“She’s got most of her last year’s team, hasn’t she?” asked Kendall hurriedly.
“Blessed if I know,” answered Merriwell. “I guess Payson isn’t much worried about it, though. I do hope we’ll trim Nordham, though, fellows.”
“Oh, we’ll run away with her this year,” asserted Girard.
There was another knock on the door.
“Well, we’re some popular to-night,” said Gerald. “Come in!”
It was Harry Merrow. “Hello, everybody,” he greeted. “What is this? A mass meeting?” Just then his gaze fell on Cotton and his eyes narrowed suddenly, and for some time after he had perched himself beside Gerald on the latter’s bed he continued to observe Cotton curiously across the room. The conversation went on for a minute or two. Then Harry whispered to Gerald, and the latter broke in with:
“Cotton, I believe you haven’t met Merrow. He’s in your class, by the way. Sorry; I thought you knew each other.”
Harry reached over Girard’s head and shook hands with Cotton.
“Glad to know you,” he said. “We’ve met before, though, haven’t we?”