“Four years; the pater came over here to look after his business and brought me with him; the manager died. Then we thought--that is, the pater did--that he’d better stay in New York and look after the American agency himself for awhile. And we’ve been here ever since. Last summer we decided that I’d better go to school somewhere. The pater wanted me to go back to the other side and enter Rugby, but I rather fancied staying over here; so I found out about American schools, and when some one told me that Hillton generally turned out the best eights I decided to go there.” Dick displayed interest. “Do you row?” he asked almost eagerly. “I’ve rowed a little when I’ve had a chance, which hasn’t been often. Americans don’t seem to do much that way. When I was a little chap I was a good bit of a wetbob, and was on the water a good deal. The pater taught me all I know when I was about twelve; he rowed stroke two years in the Cambridge boat.” “Well, I hope you’ll try for the crew,” answered Dick, with kindly condescension. “We want all the candidates we can get; and even if you don’t make the varsity boat this spring, there’s the second; and you’d have a good show for next year.” “Thanks,” replied Trevor calmly; “I’d made up my mind to have a try for it. I rather fancy I’ll make the varsity.” Dick stared. Such confidence staggered him, and he tried to detect amusement on the other’s countenance. But his new roommate was staring seriously into the flames, for all the world, Dick thought, as if he were trying to decide whether to accept the place at bow or stroke. Trevor swung himself from the chair arm and tried to wrap his dressing-gown closer about him. [Illustration: PLAN OF HILLTON, N.Y. REVISED FOR HILLTON ACADEMY]