"That was it!" the victor exclaimed radiantly. "That's why he did it—what I said. I asked him straight out if it was to curry favor with the frat. crowd and he said it wasn't. Said he couldn't join one if he wanted to. His father thinks they're no good. I told him maybe the gang would try to even up with him for withdrawing. He grinned and said 'let 'em.' He's all right, fellows. We've got to play square with him. I offered him the best toast on the list right off the bat—'The Girls'—but he wouldn't accept it. Said he guessed he'd rather not. Said he's no good talking to a crowd, and doesn't know enough about girls to have an opinion one way or the other."
"Better take him over to Ypsilanti," a youthful Don Juan cried.
"Gee! He is fresh!" another ventured.
"What does he want, anyway?" was asked.
"Nothing. Wouldn't it kill you?" Kerwin replied. "I told him he'd better look out they don't try to do him up."
"You'd better keep your own eye peeled," was suggested by a little fellow on the outer edge of the crescent. "They're sore clear through—turned down for ten years running. Better stay in nights, or you'll show up at the banquet with no hair or an iodine-face, if you even show up at all——"
"Don't you believe it!" Kerwin exclaimed, with rare bravado. "Norse said he'd help me if they get funny. He's a husky guy; did you get a good look at him, fellows? I'm not worrying about the independents any; it's the sophomores I'm going to keep my eyes on. I inferred from what Norse said, there's something in the air. If he finds out what it is he'll put me next. We can depend on him, fellows. He's a regular crackerjack!"
"Well, don't be too sure of yourself," was the significant warning that caused Kerwin to exclaim:
"Rot! Let 'em come—let 'em all come! Don't you fellows lie awake nights worrying about little Willie. He's old enough to sit up and take notice."
And the crescent in front of the table broke.