“Yes, but not for me alone, so don’t get fresh. But lots of the other fellows have feeds in their rooms, even if it is against the rules, so I don’t see why we can’t.”
“There’s no good reason,” admitted Jerry. “What are rules against eats for if not to be broken? I’m in with you, Bob.”
“So am I,” agreed Ned. “We could have a swell feed here, as we can use the three rooms as one.”
“Then let’s do it,” Jerry said. “We’ll leave it to Bob to buy the grub, and we’ll all chip in. Go as far as you like, Chunky.”
“And we’ll ask some of the crowd in,” added Ned.
“Sure,” assented Jerry.
Now midnight lunches, or any other sort, in the students’ rooms were strictly prohibited at Boxwood Hall, which made it all the more joyful to elude “Thorny,” the proctor, and the other college officials, and have them. Bob smuggled in the eatables, and the invitations were given, and one evening several forms might have been observed quietly making their way to Borton, and up to the rooms of Bob, Ned and Jerry.
There is no need to describe what took place. If a boy has never taken part in one he has imagined them. There were sandwiches galore, pies, cake, bottles of olives and various tinned dainties.
“Say, this is all to the mustard!” exclaimed Ted Newton, who had accepted an invitation, in spite of his football training.
The feasting began. Keyholes had been stuffed with paper, the windows had been darkened and every precaution taken. Nevertheless, just as the feast was about over, there came a knock on the door.