Shortly after eleven Carl came in and threw himself wearily into a chair. For a few minutes neither boy said anything; they stared into the fire and frowned. Finally Carl spoke.
"I can go Alpha Sig if I want," he said softly.
Hugh looked up. "Good!" he exclaimed, honestly pleased. "But I hope we can both go Nu Delt. Did they come right out and bid you?"
"Er—no. Not exactly. It's kinda funny." Carl obviously wanted to tell something and didn't know how to go about it.
"What do you mean 'funny'? What happened?"
Carl shifted around in his chair nervously, filled his pipe, lighted it, and then forgot to smoke.
"Well," he began slowly, "Morton—you know that Alpha Sig, Clem Morton, the senior—well, he got me off into a corner to-night and talked to me quite a while, shot me a heavy line of dope. At first I didn't get him at all. He was talking about how they needed new living-room furniture and that sort of thing. Finally I got him. It's like this—well, it's this way: they need money. Oh, hell! Hugh, don't you see? They want money—and they know I've got it. All I've got to do is to let them know that I'll make the chapter a present of a thousand or two after initiation—and I can be an Alpha Sig."
Hugh was sitting tensely erect and staring at Carl dazedly.
"You mean," he asked slowly, "that they want you to buy your way in?"
Carl gave a short, hard laugh. "Well, nobody said anything vulgar like that, Hugh, but you've got the big idea."