The Christmas holidays came, bringing a vacation which enabled the motor boys to go home, where they had glorious times.
It was a week after their return to Boxwood Hall, and the new year’s schedule of lessons was under way. President Cole, on the reassembling of the college classes, had made a plea for harder mental work, and most of the boys were buckling down to their lessons, at least for a time.
Bob, Ned and Jerry were sitting in their rooms, or rather, in Jerry’s room, one evening, studying. Finally Jerry flung his book away from him, upsetting a tumbler of water over Bob, who yelled out:
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve just thought of something,” said Jerry.
“Well, I wish you’d keep such thoughts to yourself,” grumbled the stout lad, as he sopped up the water.
“What’s the idea?” asked Ned.
“This,” replied Jerry. “Things have been too slow around here of late. Everything has a flat taste. We are getting into a rut. No one has brought a cow, or even a goat, into a class room.”
“I was a goat in French to-day,” declared Ned. “I couldn’t get a single verb right. But go on.”