"Oh, Songbird and I are looking out for them. Didn't you notice we had the door locked? We always lock up now, and no one has a key but the janitor, and we have cautioned him not to let any one in here without our permission."
"I'll tell you what I'd like to do to-night," said Tom. "I'd like to smuggle something to eat into this room and give some of our crowd a spread, just for the fun of it."
"All right, I'm willing, Tom," answered his brother. "Of course you'll have to keep rather quiet about it, because I don't want to get into the bad graces of any of the monitors or of Dr. Wallington. I want to graduate next June with the highest possible honors."
It was arranged that while Songbird and Sam studied some necessary lessons, Tom was to return to Ashton in the automobile and bring back a number of things which would be needed for the proposed spread. Tom took Spud and Stanley with him. Out on the campus the three came face to face with William Philander Tubbs.
"Hello, Tubblets, old boy!" cried Tom cordially, as he caught William Philander by the hand. "How are you making it these days?"
"I—er—er—— How do you do, Rover?" stammered the dudish student. "Why, I am—er—am quite well, thank you. I thought you had left college?"
"Oh, I couldn't leave it for good, you know, Tubby, my dear. They wouldn't be able to get along without me."
"Why—ah—why—ah—somebody told me you were going into business in New York."
"That's right, Tubbette."
"Oh, Rover! please don't call me by those horrid nicknames any longer," pleaded William Philander. "You promised me long ago you wouldn't do it."