Andy swung open the door wider, and saw, standing in the hall, a man he recognized as one taking a post-graduate course in the Medical School. He was Nathan Conklin, and had taken a room in the freshman dormitory because no other was available just at that time.
“Do you want some advice?” asked Conklin. He was a pleasant chap, considerably older than Andy or Dunk. And he seemed to know life.
“I guess that’s just what we do want,” said Andy. “We are up against it. We have caught—er——”
“You needn’t explain,” said Conklin. “The less said on such occasions the better. I happened to be passing and I could not help hearing. What I didn’t hear I guessed. Now I’m going to say a few words.
“Boys, Yale is bigger than any of us—better than any of us. We’ve got to consider the honor of Yale above everything else.”
Andy and Dunk nodded. Mortimer sat with his face buried in his hands.
“Now then,” went on Conklin, “for the honor of Yale, and not to save the reputation of anybody, we must hush up this scandal. It must go no farther than this room. Gaffington, are you willing to leave Yale?”
“I suppose I’ll have to,” Mortimer answered, without looking up.
“Yes, you would have to go if this came out, and it’s better that you should go without it becoming known. Now then, are you willing to make restitution?”
“I can’t. I haven’t a dollar in the world.”