By degrees the boys slipped back into their school work habits. Seawall was forgotten for a time at least. All thought was centered on the great fall sport of football, or at least all thought outside of the classroom and study periods, and I'm afraid some of it even there. Our friends trod the paths of Queen's with a new sense of ownership. Were they not now in their second year and lords of their particular realm—Honeywell Hall? Last year they had been at school only on suffrance of the second class boys—so it had appeared to them—but the year had moved them along to a new and quite wonderful superiority.
"Have you noticed," said the Codfish one night, "what a very small fry this bunch is, that has so recently entered our sacred Halls of Learning?" The speaker put the question to the full court that sat in Frank's room one night after supper.
"You mean the Freshmen, I suppose," said Jimmy.
"You're the rightest chap I know," said the flowery Codfish.
"Yes," said Frank, "they are a year younger than we uns, but I noticed some pretty husky fellows there in the yard to-day."
"Most of them look as if they had just come from mamma's lap just the same, and I think it's a sin for these Second year guys to be hazing the dear little mites," said the Codfish, with a great show of disapprobation.
"Who's hazing them?" inquired Frank.
"Future tense, Webfoot, future tense," cried the Codfish. "I guess they've escaped so far."
"Well, what's all your virtuous indignation about, old chappie?" said Jimmy.