“Holly Cross,” ventured Sid.
“Dutch Housenlager or—an elephant,” predicted Tom. “He walks as though he had his football shoes on.”
“Perhaps he’s coming to suggest another trick on the proctor or Pitchfork,” suggested Phil, for the latest attempt of Dutch was a standing joke against the fun-loving student.
“Hello, Dutch!” greeted Tom, as the big guard entered. “Anything wrong?”
“No. Why?”
“Oh, I didn’t know, but I thought you looked as if you just met the proctor, who made you sweep and dust his room.”
The others joined in the laugh against Dutch.
“Oh, can you fellows ever forget anything?” he asked, in accents of deep disgust, as he looked about for a place to sit down. “Where’s the seat of honor, anyhow?” he demanded. “Am I to sit on the floor?”
“Oh, suit yourself,” remarked Phil. “Our seat of honor hasn’t yet come back from the realms of mystery.”