"I guess not to-night. It's most supper time, and I want to read a little first. Good-night."
"Good-night," answered West. "I'm awfully much obliged for what you did, you know. Come and see me to-morrow if you can; Number 2 Hampton. Good-night."
Joel March turned and retraced his steps to his dormitory. He found his roommate reading at the table when he entered Number 34. Sproule looked up and observed:
"I saw you with Outfield West a moment ago. It looks rather funny for a 'grind,' as you profess to be, hobnobbing with a Hampton House swell."
"I haven't professed to be a 'grind,'" answered Joel quietly, as he opened his Greek.
"Well, your actions profess it. And West will drop you quicker than a hot cake when he finds it out. Why, he never studies a lick! None of those Hampton House fellows do."
March made no answer, but presently asked, in an effort to be sociable:
"What are you reading?"
"The Three Cutters; ever read it?"
"No; what's it about?"