Holworthy looked on a moment in silence, and tried to pull an idea out of his moustache.
"What is the matter with you, Jack?" he asked, gently.
"Nothing—only that I am such a poor sort of a thing. No ambition, no backbone, no sand. Just a worthless, dissipated loafer. Let's go lush up with the rest of the crowd,—that is all I'm good for."
"Don't talk like a fool," replied Hollis, by way of comfort.
"A disgrace to the University. Haven't you always told me the same thing?" asked Jack, with a ghastly grin.
"That is no reason why you should think so yourself and get so blue about it. I never thought you would ever take it to heart so. You know I never meant half that I said. I used to lay it on thick in hopes that a little would soak in."
"I wish it had all soaked in long ago," answered Jack, ruefully. "Don't take any of it back, old man; you haven't soured me. Come along, let's go back to the old gang. You are all a very bad lot and don't properly appreciate my faults; even you, you old prig. Come along, Blathers."
He tucked his arm through Holworthy's and they went back to the hotel, Hollis musing much.
Meanwhile, in the billiard-room the good work was going on to Ned Burleigh's deepest gratification. He himself, mounted on the pool-table, was beating time with a broken cue for a choir of sweet singers. They had cheered each member of the crew and the coxswain, declaring in the time-honored measures that each was a jolly good fellow, and intimating the mendacity of any one who might deny the fact. Grateful for his degree, and being in a broad and liberal frame of mind, Burleigh had also proposed each member of the Faculty of Harvard College for similar honors, prefacing each nomination with a few well-chosen remarks.
"And now, dearly beloved brethren," said he, "omitting the next fifty-three stanzas, let us all unite in singing the one hundred and forty-fifth; and as I look upon your happy, up-turned faces, I cannot help being touched by the spirit of those beautiful lines. All sing!"