“Harrington Jones!” exclaimed Barry. “Do you mean that Peaches is――is――Land of Liberty! I thought he was poor! Are you _sure_?” “Of course I am!” laughed Betty. “Why, Mr. Jones was up here last spring! He came for the Hoskins game. He sat right here on this porch and talked to Mother and me and was perfectly darling. Peaches looks a lot like him, too, and says things just the funny way his father does. Why, the idea of thinking him poor! How ever did you get such a funny notion, Barry?” “Why――why, I don’t know,” murmured Barry. “He never _said_ anything. And his room――I mean it doesn’t look like a rich fellow’s; now, does it? Gee! and I was telling him one day how wealthy Clyde’s father is! He must think I’m a――a dumb-bell!” “He never does talk about money, or about his father, either,” said Betty; “and his room isn’t fixed up much. But haven’t you ever noticed what nice things he has, Barry? His brushes and toilet things are lovely. And he has nice clothes, too. Even,” she added with a laugh, “if he does go around wearing his oldest ones most of the time!” “That’s so,” acknowledged Barry; “he has got some nice things upstairs. I noticed his bureau one day, but I didn’t think about his having silver brushes and photograph frames. Yes, and he has about two dozen pairs of shoes, too, and I saw them and thought they were old ones and joked him about it! Gee, Betty, he must be indecently rich!” “I guess so, but I don’t care if he is; he’s awfully nice. We thought of course he would go into one of the dormitories last year, but he didn’t, and he didn’t this year, either; and it was just because he knew Mother might have trouble renting his room again. I call that awfully――thoughtful.” Barry nodded. “He said something about that. Said the faculty made it sort of hard for folks who rented to students and he was afraid Mrs. Lyle wouldn’t fill the room if he got out. Just the same, Betty, I think he likes it here better than a dormitory.” “Yes, I think so, too, and that’s just another nice thing about him,” replied Betty, warmly. “Lots of boys in his circumstances, with all the money they want, wouldn’t be satisfied unless they had the best room in Meddill.” There was a pause, and then she asked: “Did he tell you any more, Barry? I mean about――about my brother Davy?” “Yes, he did,” Barry confessed a bit awkwardly. “I hope you don’t mind.” “No, not a bit, Barry. You see, you’re a good deal like Peaches. I mean you’re――” Betty hesitated, smiled, and shrugged her slim shoulders apologetically. “I just mean that I don’t mind your knowing,” she laughed. “It was awfully――awfully hard luck,” said Barry. “I guess Mr. Benjy feels pretty badly about it.” “He misses Davy,” said Betty. “We all do. But you mustn’t think Father feels badly, Barry, because, you see, Davy didn’t really do what they said he did.” She looked down at Barry very straightly, a little sternly.