darned politicians. He was out to bootlick the whole class, so he could get elected to things, and he had the room crowded all the time with ward-heelers smoking my tobacco and borrowing my shirts. Last year three bozos and I chipped in together and took a whole suite in Williams Hall. That's the place where President Madison roomed when he was in college. It's two hundred years old, I guess. The most terrible madhouse in the world. We staged a fight with the rats pretty near every night. And those three roomies of mine!—say, one of 'em was always staging a party and banging the piano when the rest of us wanted to study. It was terrible. I flunked two subjects and have to work like the dickens this year to make them up so I can graduate.
"That's why I picked out 'Shelley' here for a roommate. He'll be my good angel, see? He doesn't do anything but study and he does all his bickering down in the 'Lit' office. So I'll be able to work, see? He isn't a bad old egg at that, even though he's funny looking."
Logan, immersed in his French, paid no attention to this insult. Harold sat entranced at Keay's flood of words. He did not understand half the slang, but it seemed to the sub-Freshman that he was at last getting a taste of the real Tate. How he envied Keay his
