"If the room is too small, why not try a trundle bed?" called out Lewis, but Frank was half way down the stairs and did not hear him.
Frank burst into No. 18 where Gleason was scratching away in his book of records. "Say, Gleason, got any objection to having another room-mate?"
"What, Web-foot, going to leave your old wife?" said Gleason, looking up in surprise.
"I don't mean that. The fellow I was down south with this summer has decided to come to Queen's, if he can get in. I know the dormitories are all crowded, and I'm willing to have him bunk in with me. He's a dandy chap. You'd like him."
"No objections from the Codfish," announced that individual. "We can set up a four-poster in the room here. It'll be very handy to hang our clothes on. We need more room here anyway," and he looked around at the disarray of clothes piled on chairs and tables and window seat. "Bring him in, sir, the more the merrier. Always room at the top," and Gleason returned to his scratching.
"It will not be necessary to put him in here. He can have half of my room," said Frank. "If the Doctor has no objection, it's settled. I had more room than I needed anyway."
"When's he coming?" inquired Gleason.
"The telegram I had says he's on the way and will be here Thursday."
"Is he a Web-foot, too?"
"No, David hasn't any feet to speak of. He walks with crutches and can't take part in athletics, but he's about the finest little chap you ever saw."