"Just as you say, Tom," was the quiet reply.
It was growing dark when they reached the college grounds and most of the students had gone in to supper. Tom said he did not feel much like eating, but his brother told him he had better have a little food, and they went in together. They saw Songbird and the others at another table. The would-be poet and Spud nodded to them, but Stanley paid no attention.
Sam and Tom still occupied their old room, Number 25, while Songbird was still in Number 26. Since Dick was not to return to Brill his place in the latter room had been taken by Max Spangler, a jolly fellow of German-American parentage.
"Vot is der madder mit Dom Rofer?" asked Max of the would-be poet, as both came up to the room after supper.
"Oh, he isn't feeling very well, Max," was the reply. "What makes you ask?"
"Oh, I see him put his hands by his head on so many dimes," said Max. "He got knocked owit, didn't he?"
"Yes, a rascal hit him over the head with a wooden footstool and nearly cracked his skull."
"Den he should be py der hospital, yah, instead of py college," said the German-American student.
"Well, maybe they'll have to take him to the hospital, or somewhere," returned Songbird, thoughtfully. "Hang it all, with Dick gone and Tom acting as he does, times are not half as jolly as they used to be!"
In the next room Sam sat down to study. Tom had wanted to study, too, but his brother had persuaded him to lie down and rest, and now he was asleep and breathing heavily. Sam tiptoed his way across the room to gaze at him.