The Triumvirate were seated under the maples on the lawn. It was Sunday afternoon, and the hot weather continued, although there was rather more life in the air than there had been yesterday. Clif and Tom had discarded coats, an example set them by numerous other youths who dotted the shaded expanse beyond East Hall. Mr. Cooper, strolling over from the Inn, found them there and joined the small circle. Loring and Clif were attempting to arrange a meeting in France or Switzerland in the summer, and Mr. Cooper, having seated himself on the grass, leisurely filled his pipe and listened, with only an occasional word of comment. Loring’s family would be abroad all summer, while Clif and his father had only some six weeks to spend on the other side; facts which made it difficult for the two boys to agree on a place and time of meeting. Tom had nothing to say until, presently, Mr. Cooper remarked: “I fancy you’d like a bit of that, Tom.” Tom shrugged. “Oh, no, I’d hate it! I couldn’t be happy outside the dear old State of New Jersey.” “You’re out of it now,” said Clif. “And no better off,” answered Tom. “New Jersey――Connecticut――what’s the diff?” “I wish you could be over there, too,” said Loring with evident sincerity. “Say, wouldn’t we have a corking time, the three of us?” “The Triumvirate in the Alps,” mused Clif. “Sounds like a story, doesn’t it? Gee, I wish you could make it, too, Tom. No hope, I suppose? I mean you couldn’t possibly persuade Mr. Whatshisname that he needs a vacation?” “If I could he’d take it at Asbury Park,” replied Tom disconsolately. “Heck, I don’t believe he even knows there _is_ such a place as Europe!” “You might try the ‘old will power,’” suggested Mr. Cooper. “After what it’s done here, you know, eh?” “I’d like to see any one will that guardian of mine to do anything he didn’t want to!” said Tom bitterly. “Anyway, I’ve about decided that that psychology stuff is the bunk. I don’t believe it had anything to do with our making the first team, and I don’t believe Clif thinks it did, either.” “Well, I do think so,” declared Clif stoutly. “Why, look here, Tom, when I started out I had just about as much chance of making the nine as――as I have of finding my name down in the First Ten to-morrow! And then, all of a sudden, Steve grabs me! If it wasn’t because we fellows kept thinking and willing, what was it because of?” Tom laughed jeeringly. “Don’t credit me with any of it, Clif, for I haven’t done a nickel’s worth of willing for more than a week. I just haven’t had time to think about it. Sorry, old chap, but you might as well have the truth. I’ve been too busy to put my mind on your affairs. Now let’s hear from Loring.” “I’m going to disappoint you,” said Loring. “I haven’t quit, Tom. The old will power’s still working sixteen hours a day. One for all, you know, and all for one!” “Well, I sort of forgot,” muttered Tom. “You fellows must have done it single――no, double-handed.”