Mr. Whiting unlocked the front door and admitted them to a wide hall and from there conducted them into a big library and flooded it with light at the touch of a button. “Make yourselves at home now. If you want to wash come on up-stairs. You needn’t be afraid of making a noise, the place is empty except for Williams and he’s at the back of the house and wouldn’t hear a sound if he wasn’t.” They trooped up after him to the bath-room and washed the dust from hands and faces. Chub, smoothing his hair with the silver-backed brushes which their host provided, encountered in the glass the gaze of Whiting fixed on him speculatively. “Say, what’s your name?” asked Whiting. “My name’s Eaton,” answered Chub. “And my companions are Mr. Porter and Mr. Somes. I beg your pardon, I’m sure; we ought to have introduced ourselves before.” “Oh, that’s all right; I only asked because it seems to me I’ve seen you before somewhere.” “It’s possible, I live in Pittsburg.” “You didn’t have to tell,” said Dick, reproachfully. “I’ve never been there,” said Whiting, “but all the same--Well, never mind. Let’s go down and see what we can find.” They found a good deal. Together they raided the pantry and refrigerator and bore their booty into the dining-room and spread it helter-skelter on the big mahogany table. Then they made coffee, about two quarts of it, and if it wasn’t perfectly clear it at least tasted very, very good. It was after nine o’clock when they sat down to supper and it was well toward ten when they got up. It takes some time to satisfy such hungers as Chub and Roy and Dick had. But, of course, they didn’t spend quite all the time eating, for Whiting’s curiosity had to be satisfied and so it was incumbent to narrate the adventure in search of milk. Whiting thought that a fine joke and wished he had been along. “I tell you what I’ll do, fellows,” he said. “In the morning I’ll take you back in the car, if you don’t mind starting rather early, and you won’t have much difficulty finding your boat in broad daylight. I hope no one has stolen anything out of it, though.” Back in the library the boys stretched themselves out comfortably in the big leather chairs, and Whiting turned to Chub with; “Say, Eaton, do you play ball?” “Yes, some.” “Only some, eh? I thought that maybe I’d seen you on the ball field, but--” “He’s a fibber,” said Dick. “He was captain of his freshman team this year and played on the ’varsity in the big game.” “Jupiter!” cried Whiting. “I remember now! You’re the chap they put in for Pritchett at the end of the game; you stole home and won the game! That was all right, Eaton!” Whiting beamed across at him. “Thunder, I’m glad I picked you fellows up! I’m a junior next year. You must come and see me. Are you in college, too?” “Yes,” answered Roy. “I’m in the same class with Chub, and Dick enters in the fall.”