Barry’s day began at seven o’clock, at which hour Betty Lyle set a chipped pitcher of hot water outside his door and roused him from slumber. At approximately seven-twenty-five he set forth, usually with Jones, sometimes with Jones and Toby Nott, by a short cut to Croft Hall and chapel. Sometimes, too, the roomers in the house opposite joined them. These were Fessenden and Millington. Millington, known as ‘Mill,’ was a Second-Class boy and a member of the baseball squad. Barry liked him from the first. Fessenden, whose first name was Alonzo, was dubbed “Zo” by Jones. Which was quite all right with Fessenden, since anything that Crawford Jones did was perfect in his eyes. After a few days Jones himself wasn’t “Jones” to Barry; nor was he “Crawford.” He became “Peaches,” a nickname that had been his since some mad wag had, years before, thought of the association of that word with Crawford. Chapel lasted fifteen minutes and breakfast began at eight o’clock. The first recitation was at nine, the last at three. Dinner was at twelve-thirty, supper at six. Such was the routine of every week-day, although, as Barry’s recitation-hours varied, all days were not just alike for him. His afternoons were spent at tennis or golf when he could find an opponent, or in looking on at baseball or football. Save on Saturday and Sunday afternoons Peaches was busy on the diamond and Barry couldn’t count on him for companionship. On Saturdays there was no practice for the baseball candidates, and on those afternoons Peaches was at liberty to follow the fortunes of the Broadmoor eleven. On the second Saturday after the beginning of the term Barry accompanied him. The game, the first of the schedule, was not an important one, but it offered an opportunity to compare the home team with the previous year’s defeated eleven and there was a generous attendance of students and townsfolk. Peaches had tried to induce Toby Nott to go along with them, but Toby, appearing at his door with an agitated beetle between his fingers, had shown no enthusiasm. He stared quite blankly through his spectacles while Peaches repeated the invitation. Then, “You mean see a football game?” he asked, with a puzzled air. “You’re certainly quick,” acknowledged Peaches. “I tell you only twice and you grasp it immediately.” Toby blinked and grinned uncertainly. “Well, but――what for?” he asked. Peaches looked at Barry hopelessly. “It’s no use,” he muttered. “Come on.” With evident relief Toby started to withdraw, but then, fearing he had failed to show proper interest in the event, he put his head out again and called after them: “Say, Jones, who’s playing?” “Broadmoor School,” answered Peaches, from the foot of the stairs. “Oh,” said Toby. He seemed quite satisfied as he closed his door again.