"I thought he might be going to a funeral—dressed so soberly," added Dick, and this caused a general laugh, for Tubbs was attired in a light gray suit, patent leathers with spats, and a cream-colored necktie, with gloves to match.
"How do you do?" said William Philander politely, as if he had not seen the others in the classrooms an hour before. "Pleasant day."
"Looks a bit stormy to me," answered Dick, as he saw several sophomores eyeing Tubbs angrily. It was against the rule of Brill for a freshman to carry a cane.
"Stormy, did you say?" repeated the dude in dismay. "Why, I—ah—thought it very fine, don't you know. Perhaps I had better take an—ah—umbrella instead of this cane."
"It would be much safer," returned Dick significantly.
"But I—ah—don't see any clouds," went on William Philander, gazing up into the sky.
"They are coming," cried Tom.
"Stand from under!" called out Sam.
And then the "clouds" did come, although not the kind the dude anticipated. Six sophomores came up behind Tubbs, and while two caught him by the arms a third wrenched the gold-headed cane from his grasp.
