"My cushions," gasped Frank, "and where are the cases?"
"When the storm burst I didn't have time to get them under cover. They go to the Hyperion management as a souvenir."
"More likely to the Junior scouts," suggested Jimmy.
"Thoughtful kid, my initials were on them," said Frank. "You could create trouble for someone if you were alone on a desert island."
But no trouble did come out of the incident for the great dance itself coming on the next evening, as it did, overshadowed such minor things as the Freshman class and its doings.
But the affair had one result. It was the last time that the Glee Club concert was ever held at the Hyperion. After that year it went to one of the University halls where Freshmen, fishing from the top gallery, tantalizing feathers and tormenting snuff were not known, and where the concert went its full length without disturbance of any kind.
Frank Armstrong, while a frequent visitor at the swimming pool, had not gone out for the Freshman team. Football had claimed his attention in the fall when swimming practice first began, and although urged to join the Freshman team by classmates, who had seen him in the pool, he had declined.
"I want to have a good big deposit in the education bank when baseball opens up," he used to say.
"You're a blooming old grind," the Codfish would retort when Frank advanced his reasons for keeping the time free for studies. "You aren't doing as much as I am for the class."
"But I'm doing as much as I can for the class and something for myself."