[CHAPTER XVIII]
AN ALARM OF FIRE
“Mary had a little dog,
It was a noble pup;
’Twould stand upon its front legs
When you’d hold its hind legs up!”
Thus warbled Tommy as, having kicked the door shut, he subsided into one of Allan’s chairs by sliding over the back. Allan pushed his book away, yawned dismally, and looked over at his visitor mutely questioning:
“Where’s Pete?” Tommy demanded.
“Am I his keeper?” asked Allan.
“You’re his fidus whatyoucallit. Seen him to-night?”
“No; maybe he’s studying.”
“Careless youth,” muttered Tommy. “Say, did you hear about Pete and Bœotia?”
“No; who’s Bœotia, anyway?”
“Oh, it’s that place in—er—ancient history, you know. It was at recitation this morning; Professor Grove asked Pete how Bœotia was situated. Pete wasn’t prepared, but he thought he’d make a bluff at it. So he gets up and drawls out in his cheerfully idiotic way, ‘Oh, he had a pretty good situation, but he lost it.’”