As he rang the bell of the house corresponding in number to the one he had selected as his rooming place, the door was cautiously opened a trifle, the rattling of a chain showing that it was secure against further swinging. A rather husky voice asked:
“Well?”
Joe looked, and saw himself being regarded by a pair of not very friendly eyes, while a tousled head of hair was visible in the light from a hall lamp that streamed from behind it.
“I—er—I believe I’m to room here,” went on Joe. “Matson is my name. I’m a Freshman——”
“Oh, that’s all right. Come in!” and the tone was friendly at once. “I thought it was some of those sneaking Sophs., so I had the chain on. Come in!” and the portal was thrown wide, while Joe’s hand was caught in a firm grip.
“Are you—er—do you run this place?” asked Joe.
“Not yet, but I’m going to do my best at it as soon as I get wise to the ropes. You can help—you look the right stuff.”
“Aren’t you the—er—the proprietor?” asked our hero, rather puzzled for the right word.
“Not exactly,” was the reply, “but I’m going to be one of ’em soon. Hanover is my name—Ricky Hanover they used to call me at Tampa. I’ll allow you the privilege. I’m a Fresh. like yourself. I’m going to room here. Arrived yesterday. I’ve got a room on the first floor, near the door, and it’s going to be so fruity for those Sophs. to rout me out that I got a chain and put it on. The old man said he didn’t care.”