It was a very jolly meal, with a good deal of laughter and much fragmentary conversation. The supper was excellent, and Evan was hungry and did full justice to the hashed chicken on toast, baked potatoes, cold lamb, hot biscuits, preserves, and cake. He also accepted a second cup of cocoa at Rob’s suggestion, and then drank a glass of milk just to make certain of keeping life in his body until morning. And while he ate, as he took only a small part in the talk, he had opportunity to look about him.
The dining-hall was large and cheerful and well lighted. It occupied all one end of Second House, and so had windows on three sides. Between the windows were pictures, most of them photographs of Roman and Grecian ruins, while at either side of the door stood pedestals holding, on one side, a bust of Socrates and, on the other, a bust of Washington. There were twenty-odd tables, accommodating at present one hundred and seventy students and the faculty and staff of the school. Dr. Farren occupied a small table at the head of the hall with the school secretary, Mr. Holt, and the matron, Mrs. Crane, or, as she was called, “Mrs. Crow.”
“I don’t know how she got that name,” said Rob, as he pointed out the dignitaries. “Maybe it’s on account of her black hair. Anyhow, it isn’t because the fellows don’t like her. She’s a dear. That’s Holt next to her. He’s secretary. No one knows him very well. And there’s the Doctor. The rest of the faculty is scattered. The white-haired chap over at the far table is just ‘Joe’; real name Alden; Greek and Latin. The slim, youngish fellow over there is ‘Mac,’ who tries his level best to make me discern the beauties of algebra. He also teaches history, and it’s a cinch. The big fellow down here on your left is ‘Tommy’ Osgood. Tommy teaches chemistry and is also and likewise physical director; and he’s a tartar. Mr. Cupples, affectionately known as ‘Cup,’ is down there by the door. Cup pours French and German into you. Now you know the faculty. Be kind to them and very patient. After supper I’ll take you over to Mrs. Crow’s. You’d better get on the right side of her, because she’s a mighty good sort and can do a lot for you if she wants to. And I’ll try and see the Doctor and tell him about your consumption.”
“I never had a cold in my life,” laughed Evan.
“Knock wood. And if the Doctor calls you over to the office, try and look as delicate as possible. You might cough a little, too. A hacking cough would help a lot.” Rob turned from Evan and addressed Gus Devens, a large, ruddy-faced youth. “I say, Gus, what does the foot-ball situation look like to your practised eye?”
“Like the dickens,” answered Gus, promptly and heartily.
“About the same as usual, then,” suggested Pierce. “Say, fellows, why doesn’t some one do something?”
“Such as what?” asked Rob.
“Fire Hopkins!” blurted Jelly.
“Oh, Hop means well enough,” said Joe Law.