“I’m starved. Didn’t get any lunch in Boston because my train from the West was over an hour late. Well, I guess I can hold out another hour.”
“You’re going into the third class, Bert says,” said Harry.
“Yes, if I can pass the exams, and I guess I can. Latin’s the only thing I’m afraid of.”
“Well, get Bert to bring you over to my room to-night. You take the exams to-morrow, you know, and maybe we can give you a few pointers. Bring him over, Bert, will you? I’ll see you in dining hall, maybe. I want to run across and see whether Larry has turned up. Did you notice a big fellow on the front seat coming up from the station?”
“Yes, weighed about a thousand pounds. Who is he?” asked Hansel.
“Larry Royle. He’s in your class. He lives in the big house across the road. His dad owns pretty near everything around here. Larry’s our center, and he’s a crackajack, too. I’ll run over a minute. By the way, Bert, shall I find that dustpan for you?”
And Harry disappeared beyond the door, laughing.
“He seems a nice sort,” said Hansel warmly.
“He is; he’s a mighty good chap. He’s manager of the football team, by the way, and if you want any favors you’d better stand in with him. You know, I dare say, that I’m captain this year?”