"We go to school here," said Dick as he shook hands. "Brill College."
"Well, I never!" gasped the tall dude. "Brill, did you say?"
"That's it," put in Sam.
"I am going there myself."
"You!" roared Tom. "Hail Columbia, happy land! That's the best yet, Tubblets. We'll have dead loads of fun. Did you bring your pet poodle and your fancywork, and those beautiful red and yellow socks you used to wear?"
"I hope you didn't forget that green and pink necktie you used to have," came from Sam, "and the blue handkerchief with the purple variegated border."
"I—ah—I never had those things," stormed Tubbs. "Oh, say, do you really go to Brill?" he questioned, with almost a groan in his voice.
"Sure as you're born," answered Dick. "We'll be glad to have you there, William Philander. You'll be a credit to the institution. We have a few fellows who dress well, but you'll top them all. I know it."
"Do you—ah—really think I can—ah—I will be as well dressed as the—ah—as anybody?" asked the dude eagerly. He was a fair scholar, but his mind was constantly on the subject of what to wear and how to wear it.
"Oh, you'll lead the bunch, and all the girls at Hope will fall dead in love with you," answered Tom.