“Thank you,” said Mrs. Hopkins, in relieved tones. “I can’t say just now who it will be.”
“Never mind!” broke in Ricky. “Have you grubbed?”
“No,” replied the newcomer. “I was thinking of going to a restaurant.”
“Come along then. I’m with you. I haven’t fed my face yet. We’ll go down to Glory’s place and see the bunch.”
Joe recognized the name as that of a famous New Haven resort, much frequented by the college lads, and, while I have not used the real designation, and while I shall use fictitious names for other places connected with the college, those who know their Yale will have no difficulty in recognizing them.
“Come on to Glory’s,” went on Ricky. “It’s a great joint.”
“Wait until I slip on a clean collar,” suggested Joe, and a little later he and Ricky were tramping along the streets, now agleam with electric lights, on their way to the famous resort.
It was filled with students, from lordly Seniors, who scarcely noticed those outside of their class, to the timid Freshmen. Joe looked on in undisguised delight. After all, Yale might be more to him than he had anticipated.
“Like to go a rabbit?” suggested Ricky.
“A rabbit?” asked Joe. “I didn’t know they were in season?”