“I am surprised!”
“I’ve threckened to turn him out of the house more than once, but he has such a soft way of getting round me that I’ve continnered to let him stay.”
Frank knew what that meant. Mrs. Harrington had a way of being pacified with a V. Whenever she rose in her majesty and asserted herself, she could be soothed by a peace-offering in the way of a collection taken up by one of her lodgers.
“There has been some talk of taking Mr. Ready into the Y. M. C. A.,” said Frank gravely. “I have called to talk matters over with him.”
“I’m afeared you have called at a bad time. Howsoever, I’ll go up and tell him you are here.”
“Stay,” said Frank, “perhaps you had better permit me to go directly to his room. If the friends with him knew my mission, they might object.”
This was true enough. Merry knew there was talk of taking every new student at Yale into the Y. M. C. A., and he had simply stated that he had called to see Ready on “business,” without explaining what sort of business. At first Mrs. Harrington hesitated, but, as Frank was not a sophomore, she finally consented to let him go direct to Ready’s room, and gave him directions for finding it. The directions were quite unnecessary, for the uproar of sounds was sufficient to guide Frank aright.
Having mounted two flights of stairs, Frank rapped on the door from beyond which came the terrible uproar. His first knock was not heard, and he almost cracked the door-panel the next time. Then somebody inside yelled:
“Come in!”
Frank turned the knob, pushed open the door, and walked in. As he stepped through the doorway, he was drenched from head to feet by a pailful of water, which had been suspended in such a manner that the top of the door struck the bottom of the pail and upset its contents. There was a shout of delight from the roomful of freshmen as the water descended on Frank.