"Twenty-six."
"Twenty-three. Bet you!"
"I don't bet, Timmy. Know I'm right, though. Anyway, Thacher's easy. Tell me the news."
"Oh, there isn't anything startling. We had the usual polite party at Josh's last night. Shook hands with the new chaps and told 'em how tickled we were to see them. Ate sandwiches and cake and lemonade and—by the way, we've got a new master; physics; Moller his name is; Caleb Moller, B.A. Quite a handsome brute and a swell dresser. Comes from Lehigh or one of those Southern colleges, I believe."
"Lehigh's in Pennsylvania, you ignoramus."
"Is it?" answered Tim untroubledly. "All right. Let it stay there. Anyhow, Caleb is some cheese."
"Where's Rollinson gone?"
"Don't know what happened to Rollo. Draper said he heard he'd gone to some whopping big prep school up in New Hampshire or somewhere."
"Or some other Southern school," suggested Don soberly.
"Dry up! And, say, get a move on. It's nearly time for eats and I'm starved."