"Oh, I believe it was Huxley who went Darwin one better, come to think of it. Huxley said it was well known that the more old maids there were the more cats there were. So in a district well supplied with old maids there'd be plenty of cats, and in consequence plenty of clover." "Say, are you crazy, or am I?" asked Dunk, with a wondering look at his friend. "This thing is getting me woozy! What did we start to talk about, anyhow?" "Horseshoe nails." "And now we're at old maids. Good-night! Come on out and walk about a bit. The fresh air will do us good, and maybe we'll sleep." "I'll go you!" exclaimed Andy. "Let's go get some chocolate. I'm hungry and there isn't a bit of grub left," and he looked in the box where he usually kept some biscuits. They went out together, passing across the quadrangle, in which scores of students were flitting to and fro, under the elms, and in and out of the shadows of the electric lights. Dunk was saying something over to himself in a low voice. "What is that--a baseball litany?" asked Andy, with a laugh. "No, I was trying to get that straight what you said about the supply of old maids in a community depending on the number of clover blossoms." "It's the other way around--but cut it out. You'll be droning away at that all night--like a tune that gets in your head and can't get out. Where'll we go?" "Oh, cut down Chapel street. Let's take in the gay white way for a change. We may meet some of the fellows." "But no staying out late!" Andy warned his chum. "I guess not! I want to be as fit as a fiddle in the morning." "For we're going to chew up Princeton in the morning!" chanted Andy to the tune of a well-known ballad. "I hope so," murmured Dunk. "Look, there goes Ikey," and as he spoke he pointed to a scurrying figure that shot across the street and into a shop devoted to the auctioning of furnishing goods. "What's he up to, I wonder?" spoke Andy. "Oh, this is how he lays in his stock of goods that he sticks us with. He watches his chance, and buys up a lot, and then works them off on us." "Well, I give him credit for it," spoke Andy, musingly. "He works hard, and he's making good. I understand he's in line for one of the best scholarships." "Then he'll get it!" affirmed Dunk. "I never knew a fellow yet, like Ikey, who didn't get what he set out after. I declare! it makes me ashamed, sometimes, to think of all the advantages we have, and that we don't do any better. And you take a fellow like him, who has to work for every dollar he gets--doesn't belong to any of the clubs--doesn't have any of the sports--has to study at all hours to get time to sell his stuff--and he'll pull down a prize, and we chaps----" "Oh, can that stuff!" interrupted Andy. "We're worse than a couple of old women to-night. Let's be foolish for once, and we'll feel better for it. This game is sure getting our goats." "I believe you. Well, if you want a chance to be foolish, here comes the crowd to stand in with."