"Just look at me!" moaned William Philander as he gazed at the wreck of his outfit. "Look at this tie—and it cost me a dollar and seventyfive cents!"
"Be thankful you weren't killed," answered a sophomore. "Don't you know better than to carry a cane."
"I—ah—fancy I'll carry a cane if I wish," answered Tubbs with great dignity.
"Not around Brill," answered several.
"And—ah—why not?"
"Because you're a freshie, that's why. You can wear the colors—because of the necktie rush—but you can't carry a cane."
"Oh—ah—so that's it!" cried William Philander, a light breaking in on him. "But why didn't you come up politely and tell me so, instead of rushing at me like a—ah—like mad bulls? It was very rude, don't you know."
"Next time we'll send you a scented note by special liveried messenger," said one of the second-year students in disgust.
"We'll have it on engraved paper, too," added another.
"Thank you. That will be—ah—better," replied William Philander calmly. "But look at my suit," he continued, and gave a groan. "I
