The result of the contest in the broad jump was that Armstrong, representing Yale, and McGregor, representing Harvard, were selected for the team. In all, twenty-six men were chosen that afternoon for the fourteen events to be contested in England, fourteen from Harvard and twelve from Yale. These men were the very flower of both teams. In the hammer and shot events only two from each college were selected since the best hammer throwers were also the best shot putters. To say that it was a jubilant quartet of boys who tumbled off the train at Milton, would be expressing it in weak terms. "Open up the cupboard," cried Frank after the home greetings were over. "You have four champion diners with you to-night." "A little soup, slice of mutton and toast for the athlete, Mrs. Armstrong. Frank isn't allowed to eat anything rich, you know, training table grub and all that." "You chase yourself around the block, Mr. Codfish. The training table has a rest for a solid week--apple dumplings, strawberry shortcake and all the fixings belong to me." "Seems as if you had earned it, son," said Mr. Armstrong. "Grand little muscles, Mr. Armstrong," said the loquacious Codfish. "Nice, hard and knotty, warranted pure steel, made in Germany--just feel them, best set in Yale--delivery of goods guaranteed----" The dinner gong cut the speaker's flow of language short, but at the table he kept the conversation moving at a lively pace. "Well, boys," said Mr. Armstrong, edging into the torrent of talk, "do you like Yale as well now as ever?" "Yale is great stuff," came the ready chorus. "It would be better if we didn't have so many studies," added the Codfish. "How's that?" "Well, a fellow just gets settled down to doing something like baseball or football or track athletics when the recitations break in. And the profs. get so peeved when a fellow isn't up to form that they have an unkind habit of flunking him." "And do you flunk, Mr. Gleason?" inquired Mrs. Armstrong. "Does he flunk! O, my!" laughed Jimmy. "I hold the record in the class," said the Codfish proudly. "Four in one day. Such a successful flunker that I have three conditions for next year." "Conditions, what are they?" "O, just little attachments that they sometimes put onto Freshmen," laughed Frank. "Have you any, Frank?" inquired his father. "In athletics a fellow has to keep up to the scratch, you know. If he doesn't, he can't go into athletics. The Codfish is the free-lance." "Yes, he's gone into everything," interjected Jimmy, "and so far hasn't won a battle." "O, but he will," said Mrs. Armstrong. "Thank you for your confidence," said that individual rising and making a sweeping bow. "'Familiarity breeds contempt,' so they say, and my familiar roommates fail to see the outcroppings of genius as clearly as you do. I've nearly won several battles already."