“To the beggar that was so cheeky on the coach, eh?” said Trevor. “I didn’t know it myself--that is, until I went to the office. They told me before recess that they’d put me in a room in Masters, but I didn’t know who I was to be with. I----” He paused, with the slightest look of embarrassment. “Fact is, I want to apologize for what I said on the coach. I didn’t mean to be waxy, but those bally gees pulled so like thunder--and I didn’t know who you were, of course, and----” “It’s all right,” answered Dick. “I wouldn’t have interfered only I thought you were going to upset us, and, being a senior, it was my duty, you understand.” “Of course, I see that,” responded Trevor earnestly. “You were right to do what you did, and you ought to have beat my silly head for me. You can now, you know, if you like.” Dick smiled, and then was sorry. He had meant to maintain a lofty expression of hauteur, in order to impress Trevor with the fact that while he was willing to pass the other’s impertinence on the coach he could never bring himself to an approval of a youth who so needlessly endangered the lives of his companions in order to satisfy a selfish whim, and who had so stubbornly transgressed the Rules of the School (the latter suddenly appeared unusually sacred to Dick, and he mentally spelled it with capital letters). But the smile had, he feared, somewhat spoiled his effort. He hastened to reassume his expression of calm disapprobation, and asked: “Did Professor Wheeler learn of it?” He had thrown aside his coat and had seated himself before the hearth. Trevor perched himself on an arm of the big chair and smiled a trifle ruefully. “Yes; I had a long talk with Wheels. I fancy he said some very good things, but I was so beastly hungry that I’m not certain. He told me to stay in the Yard for a couple of weeks; rather nasty of him, don’t you think?” “Well, Nesbitt, under the circumstances, of course----” began Dick. Then he paused as he saw, or thought he saw, a twinkle of amusement in the blue eyes before him. “Oh, well, two weeks is soon over with, and I had lots of fun while it lasted.” Trevor smiled reminiscently. “You had driven before, I suppose?” asked Dick with supreme indifference. “Yes; the pater and I used to do a good bit that way at home--in England, you know--and then last summer at Richfield I kept a nag or two rather busy.” “Have you been in this country long?” Dick really didn’t care, of course, but one had to make conversation.