last he was a part of Sanford College. Further, one of the men who had ordered him around the most fiercely wore a Nu Delta pin, the emblem of his father’s fraternity. He ran that man’s errands with such speed and willingness that the hero de¬ cided that the freshman was “very, very dumb.”
That night Hugh and Carl sat in 19 Surrey and rested their aching bones, one on a couch, the other in a leather Morris chair.
“Hot stuff, wasn’t it?” said Hugh, stretching out comfortably.
“Hot stuff, hell! How do they get that way?”
“Never mind; we ’ll do the ordering next year.”
“Right you are,” said Carl decisively, lighting a cigarette, “and won’t I make the little frosh walk.” He gazed around the room, his face beaming with satisfaction. “Say, we ’re pretty snappy here, aren’t we?”
Hugh, too, looked around admiringly. The walls were almost hidden by banners, a huge San¬ ford blanket—Hugh’s greatest contribution—Carl’s Kane blanket, the photographs of the “harem,” posters of college athletes and movie bathing-girls, pipe-racks, and three Maxfield Parrish prints.
“It certainly is fine,” said Hugh proudly. “All we need is a barber pole and a street sign.”
“We ’ll have ’em before the week is out.” This with great decision.
