“Got space?” asked Harry, as he paused at the little compartment which held our friends.
“Surest thing you know, Swipes. Shove over there, Frank. Are you trying to hog the whole bench?”
“Not when Swipes is around,” was the retort. “I’ll leave that to him.”
“Half-ton benches are a little out of my line,” laughed the newcomer, as he found room at the table. “Bring me a rarebit, Adolph, and don’t leave out the cheese.”
“No, sir, Mr. Morton! Ho! ho! Dot’s a goot vun! A rarebit mitout der cheese! Ach! Dot is goot!” and the fat German waiter went off chuckling at the old joke.
“What’s the matter, Andy, you look as if you’d had bad news from your best girl?” asked Harry, clapping Andy on the shoulder. “Cheer up, the worst is yet to come.”
“You’re right there!” exclaimed Andy, heartily. “The worst is yet to come. I’m going to Yale——”
“Hurray! Rah! rah! That’s the stuff! But talk about the worst, I can’t see it. I wish I were in your rubbers.”
“And that dub Mortimer Gaffington is there, too,” went on Andy. “That’s the worst.”
“I don’t quite get you,” said Harry, in puzzled tones. “Is this Gaffington one of the bulldog profs. who eats freshmen alive?”