Tip did, and the half ended soon after. During the intermission a nice-looking fellow of perhaps eighteen lowered himself over the back of the seat beyond Jones and joined them. Jones introduced him as Bassett, but during subsequent conversation addressed him as “B. B.” He shook hands with Barry as though he liked it, which was something Barry had not been used to of late and which left him almost speechless. When Bassett had departed, with the reappearance of the teams, Jones explained him. “Billy Bassett,” he said; “a white man. He’s President of First. Came in on a scholarship three years ago and has been an honor man every year since. They say his father is a butcher. If he is, I’ll bet he sells good meat!” “There aren’t many fellows like him here, are there?” Barry inquired. “I mean――well, poor fellows.” Then he regretted the question, since he had gathered in one way or another that Jones himself came under that category; he recalled that back home many folks who lacked money seemed ashamed of the fact and pretended to be better off than they were. But Peaches didn’t seem to mind the remark. “Not so many,” he answered. “Some, though. Broadmoor’s rather more expensive than a lot of other schools, you see; still, we do have a number of chaps whose folks aren’t wealthy. And some of them hate to have it known!” “I don’t see why,” said Barry. “Just because your folks happen to have money――I mean there’s no reason why you should take credit for it, is there?” “No, but some fellows do. We had a fellow here last year, Shafter, whose father’s a United States Senator. Sometimes, to hear Mat, you’d think he had simply made his dad! Same way with fellows whose fathers have wads. They give you the idea that it’s all their doing.” Barry laughed. “It’s funny, but it’s so, I guess. Clyde’s sort of like that. He seems to take a lot of credit for his father’s success.” “His father has money, then?” asked Peaches. “Gee, yes! Well, anyway, he’s pretty wealthy for our part of the world. He’s President of the Empire State Brass Company, you know.” “Think of that!” said Peaches, evidently much impressed. Fearing he had shown a lack of tact, Barry added hastily: “Of course money isn’t everything. I mean, it isn’t really important. Some of the chaps at home, fellows I liked awfully, are what you might call poor. They don’t seem to mind it, either.” “Quite properly,” approved Peaches. “As you say, money’s of small consequence. Personally, I prefer to have things charged.”