Philip worried the curtain cord with his bow for a moment. Finally, after a gulp that was almost audible below: “Come on up,” he said. Joe glanced up the street and then down, as though doubtful that his manifold interests would permit of his accepting the invitation. In the end, however, he nodded. “All right,” he answered. Then, as if fearing he had shown too eager a spirit, he added: “Got something to tell you.” It was Philip’s turn to nod, and, having done so, he disappeared from the window and Joe went, not too hurriedly, through the gate and in at the door. Philip awaited him, as usual, at the top of the stairway. Each ventured a doubtful and fleeting grin as they met, and then Philip closed the door of the little room and Joe flung himself on the bright-hued afghan that covered the bed by day. Having landed there, he reflected that he had meant to comport himself somewhat haughtily while making it clear to his host that only a matter of extraordinary importance would have brought him. But it was too late now. He glanced at the violin on the chair and then at the music rack with the bow lying along the ledge. “Practicing?” he asked. Philip nodded and Joe continued mercilessly. “Sort of late, ain’t you?” he inquired. Philip’s gaze wandered evasively. “I got started kind of late,” he murmured. Then, realizing that the statement was not quite the truth, he amended it. “There wasn’t much else to do,” he said. Joe stifled a triumphant chuckle. “Say,” he substituted, “did you tell Charley Nagel about――about the housewarming?” “Kind of,” answered Philip. “I told him we were going to ask some of the fellows out to the camp Saturday.” “Gee! Didn’t you know he’d go and tell Bull and that bunch?” “Sure! I wanted him to,” replied the other stoutly. “After the way those fellows acted――” “Well, you went and made a mess of it,” said Joe sternly. “Bull and his crowd are going out there to-night. They’re going to bust the door in and use our things and have a feed!” “_Wha-a-t!_ How do you know?” Joe told him. “Bull said they’d ‘warm the house’ for us,” he added bitterly. “They’re going to take a steak and some onions and some ginger ale and――” “Who’s going?” demanded Philip frowningly. “The whole bunch: Bull and Harper and Pete and Dill Treadway and all those. Charley Nagel, too, I suppose. Six or seven, probably.” “When?” Joe shrugged. “Guess they’re on the way now. They went to get Dill and some others about half an hour ago. Then they had to buy the steak and things.” Joe looked at his nickel watch. “Probably they’re just about starting. I thought you’d want to know.” Philip nodded thoughtfully. “Of course,” he muttered. “But I guess it’s too late to do anything. That’s a tough crowd, Joe, and they love a scrap. Even if we could get some of our crowd to go out there we couldn’t drive those fellows away. Gee, I wish I hadn’t said anything to Charley!”