The sun was sinking behind the western hills in a bank of golden and purple clouds. Two miles yet lay between the lads and their objective point--the odd little oyster and chop house so much frequented by the students of Milton. It was an historic place, was Kelly's; a beloved place where the lads foregathered to talk over their doings, their hopes, their fears, their joys and sorrows. It was an old-fashioned place, with little, dingy rooms, come upon unexpectedly; rooms just right for small parties of congenial souls--with tall, black settles, and tables roughened with many jack-knifed initials. "We can cut over to the road, and get there quicker," remarked Andy, after a pause. "Suppose we do it. I don't want to get back too late." "All right," agreed Tom. "I want to write a couple of letters myself." "Oh, ho! Now who's got a girl?" demanded Chet, suspiciously. "Nobody, you amalgamated turnip. I'm going to write to dad, and settle this college business. Might as well make a decision now as later, I reckon." "We'll have to sign soon, or it will be too late," spoke Chet. "Those big colleges aren't like the small prep. schools. They have waiting lists--at least for the good rooms in the campus halls. That's where I'd like to go if I went to Yale--in Lawrance Hall, or some place like that, where I could look out over the campus, or the Green." "There are some dandy rooms in front of Lawrance Hall where you can look out over the New Haven Green," put in Ben. "I was there once, and how I did envy those fellows, lolling in their windows on their blue cushions, puffing on pipes and making believe study. It was great!" "Making believe study!" exclaimed Andy. "I guess they do study! You ought to see the stiff list of stuff on the catalog!" "You got one?" asked Chet. "Sure. I've been doping it out." "I thought you said you hadn't decided where to go yet," remarked Frank. "Well, I have," returned Andy, quietly. "You have! When, for the love of tripe? You said a while ago--" "I know I did. But I've decided since then. I'm going to Yale!" "You are? Good for you!" cried Tom, clapping his chum on the back with such energy that Andy nearly toppled over. "That's the stuff! Rah! Rah! Rah! Yale! Bulldog!" "Here! Cut it out!" ordered Andy. "I'm not at Yale yet, and they don't go around doing that sort of stuff unless maybe after a game. I was down there about a month ago, and say, there wasn't any of that 'Rah-rah!' stuff on the campus at all. But of course I wasn't there long." "So that's where you went that time you slipped off," commented Chet. "Down at Yale. And you've decided to sign for there?" "I have. It seemed to come to me as we walked down the hill. I've made my choice. I'm going to write to dad." They walked on silently for a few moments following Andy's remarks. "'It was the King of France, He had ten thousand men. He marched them up the hill, And marched them down again!'"