“Yes, I――I came last week,” replied the other, seating himself on the foot of the bed and brushing the dust from his clothes. He had eyes that, for want of a better word, might be called hazel, and the rims were inflamed; Gerald decided, however, that the redness was not from too much poring over text-books, for the youth didn’t look like that sort. He was lanky, ungainly and none too attractive. His mouth was unpleasant and his face didn’t look quite clean. And the red-rimmed eyes had a sly look in them very unlike a rabbit’s. In age he seemed about seventeen. “May I ask,” continued Gerald, “why the gentlemen were so eager to discover you?” The boy’s eyes shifted and dropped. “They――they were hazing me,” he muttered. “Hazing you! Oh, surely not! Hazing isn’t indulged in here. Mister――er――what did you say the name was? Rabbit?” “My name’s Cotton. I don’t care what you call it, but they were trying to make me hold my head in a basin of water.” “In a basin of water? What an odd thing to do! Why, Mr. Cotton?” “They said”――Cotton gulped angrily――“they said they wanted to see if I was absorbent.” “Absorbent? Oh, I see; absorbent cotton.” Gerald laughed and even Kendall had to smile a little. “Well, were you?” “I got away from them,” he growled. “Oh, well, that wouldn’t have hurt you any, you know. In fact”――and Gerald smiled slightly――“in fact a little water might be beneficial, Cotton.” Cotton scowled. “Well, they needn’t think they can do that sort of thing to me. I’m too old a bird. I’ve been to school before. And if they try any more of their funny stunts, someone will get hurt!” “I don’t like your attitude,” said Gerald coldly. “A little fun doesn’t hurt anyone, and as you’re a newcomer, Cotton, you must expect a certain amount of ragging. I think you’ll find the coast clear now.” “Besides,” went on Cotton aggrievedly, disdaining the hint, “they wanted to put ink in the water.” “You should have reminded them that you were not blotting-paper; merely absorbent cotton,” replied Gerald with a smile. There was a knock on the door and Gerald looked inquiringly at Kendall. Cotton slipped to the floor, prepared to again seek the refuge of the bed. “Who is there?” asked Kendall. “Wellington. May I come in a moment?” “It’s all right, I guess,” said Gerald. “It’s The Duke.” He arose and unlocked the door and the newcomer slipped in. He had a round, merry face above which a tousled head of red-brown hair glinted in the light like copper. He was about Gerald’s age, but heavier, rounder, softer. He grinned at Gerald as he closed the door softly behind him, and then observed the other two boys. “Trouble’s over, Cotton,” he announced. “The enemy is dispersed. Keep quiet and you can make it all right. Lock the door if you want to. Better start along, though, before they get together again.” Cotton moved doubtfully toward the door. “They’d better not touch me,” he threatened, “or――――”