"Hush!" whispered Sam Day, quickly. "Some of the fellows told Horsehair you were a real, live lord now, and he believes it."
"But I am not," cried Dave, and burst out laughing. "Up with you, Horsehair, or you'll get your knee dirty."
"Yes, sir, yes, sir," answered the driver, nervously. "Will—er—will Lord Porter sit on the front seat, or——"
"A lord always drives himself," answered Shadow Hamilton, with a grin. "Horsehair, you'll have to sit on the back spring."
"Yes, sir, but—er——" The driver of the carryall paused. "Any more boys?"
"Look here, fellows," interrupted Dave, throwing his dress-suit case on the top of the carryall. "I like fun as well as anybody, but making out I'm a lord is—well, it's something I don't like. Even though my folks may have a little money I want to be just as I used to be."
"Ain't you no lord?" gasped the carryall driver.
"Of course not—I'm a plain, everyday American boy."
"Well, I'll be switched! Them young gents told me as how you was a real lord, an' was coming to the school with four colored servants, an' a whole lot more."
"And now Dave has spoiled it all," said Shadow Hamilton, with a ponderous sigh. "Puts me in mind of a story I once heard about a——"