ness he had stepped upon the edge, and the tub had sprung up at him.
Congreve began to laugh. "You're a prize jay," he remarked into the depths of the closet.
"Feel me, I'm soaking wet," was all Betts said when he emerged.
Congreve went off into another fit of laughter. "Hadn't you better mop it up?" he asked.
"No, let it go," replied Betts; "we haven't time. Here, take the magoo."
After producing a complete bill-poster's outfit from the lower bureau drawer, the two conspirators stole down the stairway.
It was a mild September night. There was a deal of dampness in the air, and so dark was it that they could hardly see the path before them as they walked across the campus.
"When we get over to 'Gentle' Hart's, we will divide our forces," said freshman Betts. "Always divide your forces, you know, for strategy's sake."
They entered the hallway at Edwards and stole carefully down to the room that had the legend in green paint, "Cave canum!" upon the panels. Congreve knocked softly with the back of his finger nails and they were admitted.
