“Here’s a clipping that says that what you printed on the sign wasn’t original, Alf,” said Gerald, indignantly. Alf shrugged his shoulders.
“Nothing is original in this age. All the good jokes have been joked and the songs sung,” he answered, lightly.
“What do you mean?” asked Dan. “Had you seen that somewhere?”
“Of course. Hadn’t you? I thought every one had heard that one. You have, Tom?” Tom nodded.
“I was brought up on it,” he drawled.
“The original form of it,” explained Alf, in response to Dan’s look of inquiry, “was something like this. ‘Father, may I go to college?’ ‘No, my son, your mother wants you to go to Yale.’ Not bad, what?”
“I suppose it was a Harvard joke,” grunted Dan, disgustedly.
“Yes; Lampoon. Oh, they say something cute now and then over there. Any one seen Collins since his return to the fold?”
Nobody had. “I think we’re safe,” said Dan. But Tom shook his head.
“Wait until after chapel in the morning,” he said. “Then, if none of us is requested to appear at the Office, I’ll breathe easy.”