Hollister dropped down in the chair and crossed his legs. There was silence for a moment while the older man reached out to take up several papers which had been pinned together, and glanced them over. Then he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Bob meditatively through his gold-rimmed glasses.
“You are aware, of course, Mr. Hollister,” he remarked presently, “that an undergraduate who has been the recipient of three separate notices warning him that his rank in as many different studies is not satisfactory, has sent to him what is called a general warning?”
“Yes, sir,” Bob returned quietly.
“You know, I suppose, the meaning of this general warning?”
“Yes, sir—er—well, not exactly,” Bob said hastily. “I haven’t had one so far myself, but I always thought that they were a pretty emphatic hint for a fellow to brace up and attend to business.”
The dean’s eyes twinkled.
“You have the right notion,” he remarked. “To deserve a general warning, a man’s record must be pretty bad. I am sorry to say that yours is more than bad. It is atrocious.”
Hollister’s face flushed and he dropped his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
The dean placed the tips of his fingers lightly together and surveyed the troubled face of the senior over the tops of them.