Ned studied the room a moment. “No, you don’t,” he challenged. “I’ll take this side. I’m the oldest.” “There isn’t any difference, you chump. One side’s as good as the other.”
“Then you won’t mind taking the other,” answered Ned, sweetly. “Run along and find the lavatory. I think it’s at the head of the stairs. Wonder why they put us up two flights.”
“Guess they knew you were naturally lazy and needed the exercise.”
Laurie dodged a pair of traveling slippers in a red-leather case and disappeared into the corridor.
Some ten minutes later they descended the stairway together and set out for West Hall. Laurie drew attention to the gymnasium building, but Ned, who had recovered his appetite, only deigned it a glance. Two boys, luggage laden, evidently just arrived, came down the steps of School Hall as the twins passed, and stared curiously.
“Guess they’ve never seen twins before in this part of the world,” grumbled Laurie. “Those chaps nearly popped their eyes out!”
West Hall proved an exact duplicate of their own dormitory, and the dining-room occupied all the right end of it. There were about fifteen boys there, in age varying from fourteen to eighteen, and there was a perceptible pause in the business of eating when the newcomers entered. A waitress conducted them to seats at a table already occupied by three other lads, and asked if they’d have milk or iced tea. Ned, as usual, answered for both.
“Iced tea, please, and lots of lemon.”
A very stout boy, sitting across the table, sniggered, and then, encountering Ned’s inquiring regard, said, “Guess you think you’re in the Waldorf!”
“What’s the Waldorf?” asked Ned. “Don’t you get lemon with iced tea here?”