"Seems to me you're back from your ball pretty early," observed Gray.
"Hol didn't find the person there he wanted to see, so he soured on the whole thing and dragged me away early," Jack Randolph explained.
"What a whopper," said Holworthy, as he took off his ulster. "It was very stupid, and Jack himself suggested that we should be happier in Cambridge."
"Aha," cried Stoughton, who was stirring the "bunny" with a master hand. "Very nice. Two gentlemen in faultless evening attire. They'll do for the waiters. Here, quick, hand up your plates before this thing gets cold."
While they were eating the rarebit, a step was heard in the entry, accompanied by the trotting feet of a dog, and the locked door was tried. Then a familiar voice drawled "What the devil is going on in here?"
"Hullo, Jack," cried Stoughton, "come right in. Don't be bashful."
"Open the door, you arrant burglars," demanded Rattleton. "My keys are on my bureau, or somewhere inside."
"Climb over the transom as I did," Hudson called. "You'll have to turn your back to the company in the performance, but don't mind the awkwardness of the position."
"We'll excuse your back. We have your hair-brushes and the fire shovel already," added Randolph, cheerily.
"Don't be such babies," said Jack, (whenever any of the gang was at a disadvantage, he was apt to age suddenly) "come, let me in."