The crowd that they had joined—as Gimbel had predicted—had taken a long dining-room cheerily lighted, holding one table, around which sixteen ravenous freshmen managed to squeeze in turbulent, impatient clamor.
Bob Story, Hunter and his crowd, Hungerford and several men from Groton and St. Mark's, Schley and his room-mate Troutman made up a coterie that already had in it the elements of the leadership of the class.
As he was deliberating, he perceived Joe Hungerford rolling along, with his free and easy slouch, immersed in the faded blue sweater into which he had lazily bolted to make chapel, a cap riding on the exuberant wealth of blond hair. He broached the subject at once:
"Say, Hungerford, you're the man I want."
"Fire away."
Stover detailed his invitation to Regan, concluding:
"Now, tell me frankly what you think."
"Have him with us, by all means," said Hungerford impulsively.
"Might it not be a little embarrassing? How do you think the other fellows would like it?"