Good-night."
Joel March turned and retraced his steps to his dormitory. He found his
roommate reading at the table when he entered Number 34. Sproule looked
up and observed:
"I saw you with Outfield West a moment ago. It looks rather funny for a
'grind,' as you profess to be, hobnobbing with a Hampton House swell."
"I haven't professed to be a 'grind,'" answered Joel quietly, as he
opened his Greek.
"Well, your actions profess it. And West will drop you quicker than a
hot cake when he finds it out. Why, he never studies a lick! None of
those Hampton House fellows do."
March made no answer, but presently asked, in an effort to be sociable:
"What are you reading?"
"The Three Cutters; ever read it?"
"No; what's it about?"
"Oh, pirates and smuggling and such."
"I should think it would be first rate."
"It is. I'd let you take it after I'm through, only it isn't mine; I
borrowed it from Billy Cozzens."
"Thanks," answered Joel, "but I don't believe I'd have time for it."
"Humph!" grunted Sproule. "There you are again, putting on airs. Just
wait until you've been here two or three months; I guess I won't hear so
much about study then."
Joel received this taunt in silence, and, burying his head in his hands,
tackled the story of Cyrus the Younger. Joel had already come to a
decision regarding Richard Sproule, a decision far from flattering to
that youth. But in view of the fact that the two were destined to spend
much of their time together, Joel recognized the necessity of making the
best of his roommate, and of what appeared to be an unsatisfactory
condition.
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