Sid took out the note, and rapidly scanned it. "See him blush!" exclaimed Phil. "Think of it, Tom, Sid Henderson, the old anchorite, the petrified misogynist, getting notes from a girl." "Yes," added Tom. "Why don't you sport her photograph, old man?" and he glanced at several pictures of pretty girls that adorned the sides of the room claimed by Phil and himself. Sid did not answer. He read the note through again, and then began to tear it into bits. The pieces he thrust into his pocket, but one fluttered, unnoticed, to the floor. "I've got to go out, fellows," he announced in a curiously quiet voice. "Out--on a night like this?" cried Tom. "You're crazy. Listen to the rain! It's pouring." "I can't help it," was the answer, as the lad began delving among his things for a raincoat. "You're crazy!" burst out Phil. "Can't you wait until to-morrow to see her, old sport? My, but you've got 'em bad for a fellow who wouldn't look at a girl all winter!" "It isn't a girl," and Sid's voice was still oddly calm. "I've got to go, that's all--don't bother me--you chaps." There was such a sudden snap to the last words--something so different from Sid's usual gentle manner--that Phil and Tom looked at each other in surprise. Then, as if realizing what he had said, Sid added: "It's something I can't talk about--just yet. I've got to go--I promised--that's all. I'll be back soon--I guess." "How about Proc. Zane?" asked Tom, for the proctor of Randall College was very strict. "I'll have to chance it," replied Sid. "I've got about two hours yet, before locking-up time, and if I get caught--well my reputation's pretty good," and he laughed uneasily. This was not the Sid that Tom and Phil--his closest chums--had known for the last three terms. It was a different Sid, and the note he received, and had so quickly destroyed, seemed to have worked the change in him. Slowly he drew on his raincoat and took up an umbrella. He paused a moment in the doorway. The rain was coming down harder than ever. "So long," said Sid, as he stepped into the corridor. He almost collided with another youth on the point of entering, and the newcomer exclaimed: "Say, fellows! I've got great news! Baseball news! I know this is a rotten night to talk diamond conversation, but listen. There's been a new trophy offered for the championship of the Tonoka Lake League! Just heard of it. Dr. Churchill told me. Some old geezer that did some endowing for the college years ago, had a spasm of virtue recently and is now taking an interest in sports. It's a peach of a gold loving cup, and say----" "Come on in, Holly," invited Tom, "Holly" being about all that Holman Cross was ever called. "Come on in," went on Tom, "and chew it all over for us. Say, it's great! A gold loving cup! We must lick the pants off Boxer and Fairview now!" Holly started to enter the room, Phil and Tom reaching out and clasping his hands.