“Numb to the bone.”
“Here take my coat till we get to the College. There—that’ll warm you up some. Can you run?”
“I can try.”
“That’ll warm you some more.” With this John Rieler put his arm about Clarence and swept him up the shore.
Clarence was exhausted; but the strong arm of the boy held him securely and so the twain made their way at a brisk trot.
“Now, look here,” said Rieler as they reached the end of the street, and stood within a few feet of the Campion faculty residence, “you give me that coat; I’m going in by the back way. You walk straight on to where you see those steps. You go up those steps and ring the bell. The Brother will come, and you just tell him you’re hungry and you want to see the Rector. Good-bye. Don’t tell anyone you saw me. My name’s John Rieler. Now be sure and do just what I tell you and keep mum.”
“Thank you. I—I can’t talk. Good-bye.”
When the Brother-porter came to the door in response to the bell a moment later, he jumped back at sight of the apparition in the blue swimming suit.
“Ach Himmel!” he exclaimed, clasping his hands. The Brother was not an Irishman.
“Please, sir, I’m hungry and I want to see the Rector.”