“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Fiat justitia, ruat cœlum!” exclaimed Tom, with mock heroics. “We have done you an injustice, most noble Dutchman. Say on, and we will hear thee.”
“I’ve a good notion not to,” said Housenlager a bit sulkily. “Here I come in to tell you fellows a piece of news, and I find you boning away, and when I start to talk you spout Latin mottoes at me. I’ve a good notion to dig out.”
“Stay! Stay, dear friend!” cried Tom, laughing. “There, we’ll chuck studying for to-night, eh, Sid?”
“Sure. I’m sick of it.”
“Now, say on,” invited Tom.
Somewhat mollified, Dutch took an easier position in the creaking chair, thereby raising a cloud of dust, and remarked:
“Well, the freshman dinner will come off to-morrow night. It’s just been decided.”
“Honest?” cried Sid.