“Hazing,” was the answer.
“Well, we’ll take all that’s coming,” said Bob. “We’ve got to expect it, I suppose.”
“And you may get more than you expect,” the informer went on.
It was rather a rough hazing, for our heroes were hauled out of their rooms by a crowd of the sophomores, headed by Frank Watson, and made to do all sorts of ridiculous things, one of which was to stand in the public square in Fordham and eat cream puffs and chocolate eclaires with their hands tied behind their backs.
Then, in this state, with smeared faces, they were obliged to appear at a moving picture show, marching up and down the aisles while the lights were turned up.
As a climax they were ducked in the campus fountain basin and then pelted with more or less over-ripe fruits and vegetables as they were allowed to return to their rooms.
“Whew!” gasped Bob, “we are some sights.”
They were indeed, their suits being ruined. But they had taken the precaution to wear old ones, thanks to the tip.
“Well, I’m glad it’s over,” remarked Jerry.