"Sydney Burr."
"Burr? That's why you were stuck there up the road," laughed Neil. "We're in the same class, aren't we?"
"Yes."
At the middle entrance of Walton Hall Neil helped Burr on to his crutches, and would have assisted him up the steps had he not objected.
"Please don't," he said, flushing slightly. "I can get up all right; I do it every day. My room's on this floor, too. I'm awfully much obliged to you for what you've done. I wish you'd come and see me some time--No. 3. Do you--do you think you could?"
"Of course," Neil answered heartily, "I'll be glad to. Three, you said? All right. I'll take this nag down to the blacksmith's now and get him reshod. If they can fix him right off I'll bring him back with me. Where do you stable him?"
"The janitor takes it down-stairs somewhere. If I'm not here just give it to him, please. I wish, though, you wouldn't bother about bringing it back."
"I'll ride him back," laughed Neil. "Good-night."
"Good-night. Don't forget you're coming to see me."
Sydney Burr smiled and, turning, climbed the steps with astonishing ease, using his crutches with a dexterity born of many years' dependence upon them. His lower limbs, slender and frail, swung from side to side, mere useless appendages. Neil sighed as he saw his new acquaintance out of sight, and then started on his errand with the tricycle.