This suggestion met with the approval of the other members of the committee, and forthwith they hied themselves down the hill.
As they reached the foot, they met a crowd of boys hurrying toward them.
“Princy’s closed the Pi Eta room,” cried several of them, as they gathered about the members of their committee.
“We know it,” returned Dawson. “And what’s more it will stay closed until the Pi Etas pay seventy dollars, which Mr. Larmore says is the amount of the damage done in the physical laboratory—and that, I opine, will be some time in the far distant future.”
At first the other boys refused to believe this announcement, but they were quickly assured of its authoritativeness, and when its full significance dawned upon them they stared at one another blankly.
“I can also tell you that Princy’s very sore because the Greek letter men have cut their classes.”
“My word, but the prospect looks cheerful, doesn’t it?” commented Socker. “Where will the Pi Eta bunch meet, now?”
“The graveyard seems the most appropriate place,” asserted Misery.
“You’ll have to do without your chapter room,” laughed Dawson. “In the meantime, the Kappa Phis and the Psi Mus are going to have a meeting to decide what you shall do.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you,” mocked one of the freshmen. “I do hope you won’t decide on anything that it won’t be perfectly ladylike to do,” and turning to his companions he exclaimed: “Come on, fellows, let’s go down to the river and have a hockey game.”