"I say—why Moses?"
"Oh, I see. Well, we call him that from his name. Church and hill. Moses went up on a hill to preach about the church, hence—aha! see?"
"You needn't draw a map," answered Tom, "even if I am from the country."
"That's so, you're from Northville, where dad used to live."
"That's right."
"Well, I wouldn't boast of it, if I were you—especially when any of the fellows are around."
"Why not?"
"Well, of course it's all right with me—I understand, but they might make fun of you—rig you, you understand."
"Yes, I understand, but I don't mind being 'rigged,' as you call it. I fancy I can do some 'rigging' on my own hook."
"All right, it's your funeral. I've warned you."
"Thanks. But if you think it's all right for me to go right to your room, and bunk, without telling Dr. Churchill—excuse me, Moses—why, I'm willing."
"That's all right. Come on, we'll go to my room. There may be some excitement after a bit."
"How?"
"Well, the sophs may try to get the clapper back. They generally do. We'll have to help fight 'em in that case."
