"Yes. Our folks are going to take a cottage on Crest Island, and"
"You are?" and Tom fairly exploded the words.
"Surest thing you know, though it's a beastly slow and unfashionable place. We usually go to the shore. We have one cottage there, and another in the White Mountains, but I persuaded dad to take one at Crest for the Summer, just so I could be near the water here and get familiar with the course we'll row next Fall. Nothing like knowing the course, old man, really."
"No, I suppose not," and Tom's mind was busy with many things. With Boswell on the island, matters might not be so pleasant as he had anticipated.
"That's right. I'm going to get a professional coach, too."
"You are?" Tom's voice was still indifferent, but Boswell did not notice it.
"Sure thing. When I go in for a thing I go in hard, and I'm going into this rowing game for keeps."
"Well, I hope we all do," and Tom tried to be pleasant as he turned away.
"See you later," murmured the Freshman, in a patronizing tone, and, as he turned aside he drew from his pocket a gaudy handkerchief. At the sight of it Tom stared, for it was the same pattern
