“No, he’s a fellow from our town,” explained Andy, “and he and I are on the outs. We’ve been so for a long time. It was at a ball game some time ago. Our town team was playing and I was catching. Mort was pitching. He accused me of deliberately throwing away the game, and naturally I went back at him. We had a fight, and since then we haven’t spoken. He’s rich, and all that, but I don’t like him; not because I beat him in a fair fight, either. Well, he went to Yale last year, and I was glad when he left town. Now I’m sorry he’s at Yale, since I’m going there. I know he’ll try to make it unpleasant for me.”
“Oh, well, make the best of it,” advised Harry, philosophically. “He can’t last for ever. Here comes my eats! Let’s get busy.”
“So Mort will be a sophomore when you get to New Haven, will he?” asked Frank of Andy.
“He will if he doesn’t flunk, and I don’t suppose he will. He’s smart enough in a certain way. Oh, well, what’s the use of worrying? As Harry says, here come the eats.”
Adolph staggered in with a well-heaped tray containing Harry’s order, and he and his chums finished their meal talking the while. The evening wore on, more students dropping in to make merry in Kelly’s. A large group formed about the nucleus made by Andy and his chums. These lads were seniors in the preparatory school, and, as such, were looked up to by those who had just started the course, or who were finishing their first year. In a way, Milton was like a small college in some matters, notably in class distinction, though it was not carried to the extent it is in the big universities.
“What are you fellows going to do?” asked Harry, as he pushed back his chair. “I’m feeling pretty fit now. I haven’t an enemy in the world at this moment,” and he sighed in satisfaction. “That rarebit was sure a bird! Are you fellows out for any fun?”
“Not to-night,” replied Andy. “I’m going to cut back and write some letters.”
“Forget it,” advised Harry. “It’s early, and too nice a night to go to bed. Let’s take in a show.”
“I’ve got some boning to do,” returned Frank, with a sigh.
“And I ought to plug away at my Latin,” added Chet, with another sigh.