“I’m afraid I did,” said Collins regretfully. “I’m afraid I did, sir, and that’s a fact. Money don’t last no time at all these days, sir, and I reckon it was all gone before I remembered about you, sir. But next time——”
“Next time it is, Collins,” said Monty cheerfully. “Don’t spend it all in one place now. Scatter it, scatter it!”
“Yes, sir; thank you, sir,” chuckled Collins. “I’ll scatter it like it was bird seed, Mr. Crail!”
Monty went upstairs smiling. It was always worth a quarter to hear Collins’ excuses for not repaying the loans made him, and Monty was not the only one who parted with some such sum almost weekly, although it is probable that he was more complaisant than the others. There was a note from Leon on the table, and Monty took it to the window and read it.
Come over to Jimmy’s after supper. There’s a meeting of the Clan. The password is “What’s in a name?” Don’t fail, on peril of your life!
Monty smiled as he crumpled up the note, and tossed it into the wastebasket. The Clan was a purely fictitious organization of Jimmy’s devising which had for its chief object the annihilation of the faculty. Jimmy had appointed himself Grand Visor, Leon was Custodian of the Crown, Dud was Leader of the Band, and Monty held the exalted office of Little-Button-on-Top. He was still smiling when Alvin Standart entered, and Alvin seized the opportunity to nag.
“Hello, Hero!” he greeted. “Make any more wonderful touchdowns today? I hear they have put you at fullback so you won’t get hurt by the rough linesmen.”
“You’ve got it, Standart. What’s the book?”
“New catalogue,” replied Alvin, laying the pamphlet in his hand very carefully on his own chiffonier. “Just out.”