"What's getting into you lately?" demanded Chet Anderson, a bit petulantly. "You stand mooning around, you don't hear when you're spoken to, and you don't go in for half the fun you used to." "Are you sick? Or is it a--girl?" queried Ben Snow, laughing. "Both the same!" observed Frank Newton, cynically. "Listen to the old dinkbat!" exclaimed Tom Hatfield. "You'd think he knew all about the game! You never got a letter from a girl in your life, Frank!" "I didn't, eh? That's all you know about it," and Frank made an unsuccessful effort to punch his tormentor. "Well, if we're going on to Churchtown and have a bit of grub in Kelly's, let's hoof it!" suggested Chet. "You can eat; can't you, Andy? Haven't lost your appetite; have you, looking at that blooming view?" "No, indeed. But you fellows don't seem to realize that in another month we'll never see it again, unless we come back to Milton for a visit." "That's right!" agreed Ben Snow. "This _is_ our last term at the old school! I'll be sorry to leave it, in a way, even though I do expect to go to college." "Same here," came from Tom. "What college are you going to, Ben?" "Hanged if I know! Dad keeps dodging from one to another. He's had all the catalogs for the last month, studying over 'em like a fellow going up for his first exams. Sometimes it's Cornell, and then he switches to Princeton. I'm for the last myself, but dad is going to foot the bills, so I s'pose I'll have to give in to him." "Of course. Where are you heading for, Andy?" "Oh, I'm not so sure, either. It's a sort of toss-up between Yale and Harvard, with a little leaning toward Eli on my part. But I don't have to decide this week. Come on, let's hoof it a little faster. I believe I'm getting hungry." "And yet you would stop to moon at a view!" burst out Frank. "Really, Andy, I'm surprised at you!" "Oh, cut it out, you old faker! You know that view from Brad's Hill can't be beat for miles around." "That's right!" chorused the others, and there seemed to have come over them all a more serious manner with the mention of the pending break-up of their pleasant relations. They had hardly realized it before. For a few minutes they walked on over the hills in silence. The green fields, with here and there patches of woodland, stretched out all around them. Over in the distance nestled a little town, its white church, with the tall, slender spire, showing plainly. Behind them, hidden by these same green hills over which they were tramping this beautiful day in early June, lay another town, now out of sight in a hollow. It was Warrenville, on the outskirts of which was located the Milton Preparatory School the five lads attended. They were in their last year, would soon graduate, and then separate, to go to various colleges, or other institutions.