“Well, old boy, how does it seem to be getting Long Vacation two months ahead of time? I am glad to know that your mother is better; but I shan’t be contented again till you tell me definitely that you will be back next term.... “I suppose you want to know what has been going on here. You won’t be surprised if I say pretty much the same old thing. It is lively enough to be in the thick of it, but there doesn’t seem much to write about. I have naturally seen rather more of Kit since you have been away, and though he does not say much if I try to talk about you, I can’t but think that things must be all right between you next fall. I have been seeing too a lot of Reggie Carroll. Reggie, I suppose, will be the same lanky languid critter to the end of the chapter, but Bill dropped the word to me the other day that he has tremendously bucked up in his work, and that he’s going in for the Latin Prize. I happen to know also that he is hammering away on some verses for Jack Stenton’s prize in Poetry. From the sample he read me the other night, I have no doubt he’ll get it,—it is the real thing, not the style of the poems that desecrate the pages of the _Deal Lit_. Reggie is going to turn out O. K., Bill says; and I begin to think so myself. Though I must confess, up to now, despite what you have always thought of him, I have considered him rather poor pickings and considerably proud of nothing. I haven’t seen much of Finch; he keeps pretty much to himself; in fact hasn’t been in here since you left. Bill tells me however that he’s to be back again next year. “The team is developing in a satisfactory sort of way, and Teddy makes a pretty good captain. I’m playing first as usual. We have won all our games so far, and I guess we’ll give Boxford a good rub on June 10th. It’s a shame you won’t be here. “There’s not much faculty news. Gumshoe’s Gumshoe! His rooms have been rough-housed several times lately, and from the way he glares at Kit, I fancy, he thinks he is responsible. Kit, characteristically, retaliates by veiled impudence that sets the Gumshoe’s teeth on edge. But he champs and says nothing. “The fellows ask about you a lot, and send their best. Let me hear from you soon, and don’t forget you are to spend the last month of the vacation with me at Easthampfield. Write soon. “Ever affectionately, “JIMMIE.” In June there came another letter that interested Tony very much.