“Caught in the act, eh? ‘Flagrante—’ What’s the Latin of it, Rowly?”
“Never mind the Latin,” replied Ira grimly. “The English of it is that you’ve got to quit it in this room.”
“Who says so?” demanded Humphrey, scowling.
“I say so. Faculty says so, too.”
“Oh, piffle! Look here, faculty says you can smoke in your room if you’re a fourth year man. If a fourth year man can smoke, I can. It’s my own affair.”
“Faculty allows fourth year fellows to smoke pipes in their rooms if they have the written consent of their parents. You’re not a fourth year fellow, you haven’t the consent of your parents and that isn’t a pipe; it’s a cigarette.”
“Well, don’t lecture about it. There’s no harm in a cigarette now and then. Half the fellows in school smoke on the sly.”
“I don’t believe it,” denied Ira stoutly. “I don’t know one who does it.”
“Huh! You don’t know very many, anyhow, do you? And you’re such a nice, proper sort of chump that they wouldn’t do it when you were around, I guess.”