fact, now that he thought of it, Arnold had a pin very much like it! There was no doubt in the world that that moonstone scarf-pin had been Arnold’s Christmas present to Frank, and Toby suddenly felt very, very miserable. The daylight faded and the words on the pages of the open book were no longer legible, although that was a matter of indifference to Toby since he wasn’t looking at them. What Toby was doing was something far less commendable and useful than studying his Latin. He was imagining all sorts of uncharitable things about Arnold and trying to recall all the faults that Frank Lamson had ever exhibited and making himself extremely miserable. And finally he arose with a shrug of his broad shoulders and lighted the gas and pulled down the shade. After that he scooped the cuff-links up contemptuously and tossed them back into the bureau drawer. “Let him,” he muttered. “Who cares, anyway? He’s not the only fellow in school! I guess I can find some one else to chum with if I make up my mind to do it.” He closed the bureau drawer with a bang. “He won’t ever see me wearing those things. Maybe he bought them for Frank and Frank didn’t like them, or something! He can have ’em if he wants ’em. I’m sure I don’t!” After that, since there were no clothes to be cleaned or pressed this afternoon, he resolutely tried to study, and really did manage to imbibe a certain amount of knowledge by the time the supper hour came. He and Arnold had managed to secure seats at the same table in commons (Yardley Hall, founded by an English schoolmaster, still retained a few English terms); but they had not been able to get seats together, and save on infrequent occasions when some boy’s absence made a rearrangement possible they were divided by the width of the table. Supper was usually a jolly and enjoyable meal for Toby, as it was for most others, but to-night he was plainly out of sorts, and when Arnold came in a trifle late and sank into his chair looking flushed and happy, he became more morose than ever. Arnold’s greeting was answered coldly, but Arnold failed to notice the fact and went to work with a good will on the cold meat and baked potatoes which formed the principal course. There was a good deal of talk and laughter that evening amongst the ten occupants of Table 14, and consequently Toby’s silence and gloom went unnoted by any one until supper was almost over. Then Arnold, appealing to Toby for confirmation of a story he had been narrating, was met with such a chilling response that he paused open-mouthed and stared across at his friend. “Well, what’s wrong with you, T. Tucker?” he asked wonderingly. “Nothing,” replied Toby, very haughtily. Several other fellows turned to observe him and the younger of the two Curran brothers laughed and said: “Oh, Tucker’s peeved because trade’s fallen off. Every fellow had his trousers pressed at home, I guess.”