“Rot!” was the courteous rejoinder. “It is obvious to any but a bonehead like yourself that the Doctor imposed bounds this year for moral reasons, because he had wind that just that sort of thing was going on.” “Ah!” resumed Kit sarcastically. “I perceive the glimmerings of a conscience. You are getting the remorse for your own sins?” “Not particularly. I am only objecting to the complacent way in which you shove Carroll and Chapin outside the pale of decency.” “Well, I’m easy, old boy; I certainly won’t be damned for making pan-cakes in Lovel’s Woods; but I can readily see that Reggie might for playing poker there. But it isn’t so much the poker I object to, as his beastly taste in companions.” “Thunder and blazes, Kit, what’s it to you who Reggie goes with?” “Nothing much. But of a kindness warn your room-mate against Arty; he is an awful bounder and always was.” “Well,” answered Tony, “Reggie knows him better than we do; and it is certainly not my business to give him advice. Come on; let’s quit this jaw, and go in to supper.” Disposed as Tony had been openly to defend Carroll against this criticism, he condemned him yet the more severely in his heart. He knew that Reggie realized the defects of Chapin’s character; that he was spoiling his chances of a prefectship the next year by his association with him, and that he was running the risk of public expulsion if it should be discovered that he was playing poker. After a good deal of hesitation he made up his mind to speak to Reggie on the subject. Accordingly he waited that night until after lights, and then slipped over to Reggie’s room, hoping to please him by this suggestion of renewing their nightly talks. But to his disappointment Carroll was not there. Tony turned back into the study, and stood for a moment at the window looking out upon the white campus, flooded now with the light of a full moon. Suddenly he heard the latch of his door turn and some one slip into the room. “Hello, Reggie,” he whispered, “is that you?” “Shish! no—it’s me—Kit,” came the soft reply. “Jimmie is outside—we’re going to the Woods. Get into your clothes and come along.” “Oh, hang the Woods!” exclaimed Tony. “I am sleepy and want to go to bed.” “Don’t be a quitter. Jim’s got a box from home; we’ll have a bully good time, and we can get back by midnight. Where’s your precious room-mate—gone to the shanty?” “I don’t know—I suppose so.” “Well, perhaps we’ll meet him; come on.”