thing to make Professor Tines (who was a good classical scholar, whatever else he might be) shudder in anguish. But Sid didn't mind.
"I tell you what it is, old man," spoke Sid to Tom that evening as they prepared to leave for the spread, "we'd better go it alone, I think."
"Just what I was about to propose. If we leave here together, some sneaking soph will be sure to spot us. Will you go first or shall I?"
"You'd better take it first. There's a hole in one of my socks I've got to sew up. I never saw clothes go the way they do when a laundry gets hold of 'em."
"Can you darn socks?"
"Well, not exactly what you'd call darn," explained Sid. "I just gather up a little of the sock where the hole is and tie a string around it. It's just as good as darning and twice as quick. I learned that from a fellow I roomed with at boarding school. But go ahead, if you're going."
It was quite dark now and Tom, after a cautious look around the entrance of the dormitory, to see if any sophomores were lurking about, stole silently down toward the river. He intended to take the road along the stream, cross the bridge and board a trolley for Haddonfield, which plan would be followed by a number of the freshmen.
Tom was almost at the bridge when he saw a
