“All right, then, we’ll let the room go until after grub. I was going to stick up a few of my things, but they can wait. Get your trunk, Andy?”
“Did it come? I gave a man the check.”
“Not yet. Sounds like it now.”
There was a bumping and thumping out in the corridor, and an expressman came in with Andy’s baggage. It was stowed away in a corner and then the five lads prepared to set out for the “eating joint.”
“It’s around on York street, not far from Morey’s,” volunteered Thad.
“Oh, yes, Morey’s!” exclaimed Andy. “I’ve heard lots about that joint. I wish we could get in there.”
“No freshman need apply,” quoted Dunk, with a laugh. “That’s for our betters. We’ll get there some day.”
“Oh, I say——” began Ted, as they were about to go out. He looked at Andy rather queerly.
“What is it?” asked our hero, with a frank laugh. “Am I togged up wrong?”
“Your—er—derby,” said Bob, obviously not liking to mention it.