“I suppose so. Well, I don’t mind. I’ve been through it before.”
“That so? Where are you from?”
“Excelsior Hall.”
“Never heard of it. That’s nothing. I don’t s’pose you could throw a stone and hit Tampa School?”
“Probably not,” laughed Joe, forming an instinctive liking for this new chap.
“Right. Tampa hardly knows it’s on the map, but it isn’t a half bad place. Ah, here’s Mamma Hoppy now. You don’t mind if I call you that; do you?” asked Ricky, as a motherly-looking woman advanced down the hall toward the two lads.
“Oh, I guess I’ve been at this long enough not to mind a little thing like that,” she laughed. “You college men can’t bother me as long as you don’t do anything worse than that. Let me see, this is——”
“Matson, ma’am,” spoke our hero. “Joe Matson. I wrote to you——”
“Oh, yes, I remember. I have quite a number of new boys coming in. I’m sorry, but the room I thought I could let you have isn’t available. The ceiling fell to-day, so I have transferred you downstairs. It’s a double room, and I may have to put someone in with you. If you think——”
“Oh, that’s all right,” interrupted Joe good-naturedly, “I don’t mind. I’ll be glad to have a room-mate.”