“Oh, for the love of mud, Jensen, cut out the rough-house, will you?” he was imploring as Kendall edged up. “I’ve got your old name down here already.... What’s that, Fogg? I don’t know; ask Payson.... What’s the name, you fellow?”
“Burtis.”
“Curtis. What class?”
“Not Curtis, if you please; Bur—”
“Shut up, you fellows, can’t you? I can’t hear a word. What’s your class, Curtis?”
“Third.”
“Where’re you rooming?”
“Twenty-one Clarke Hall.”
“How old?”
“Fifteen; pretty near sixteen.”