Haydock was hearing of this little arrangement for the first time. He hadn’t seen Billy since the return from Providence. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he began; “I have no end of work myself and--” “Yes, yes, I know,” broke in Dilly, a trifle impatiently, without turning from the piano; “you see we never thought about it ourselves until this afternoon, when we found out that the exam comes to-morrow. We were sure you’d do it,” he wheeled slowly about until he faced Haydock; “because neither of us know anything, and if you don’t--we’ll fail.” Haydock met this plaint with the worried silence of one who dimly foresees his own end. Dilly couldn’t have made a more persuasive appeal if he had tried. Its strength lay in the fact that Dilly hadn’t tried; he had simply laid bare, with an apparently childlike trust in Haydock’s wisdom, his own and Billy’s hopeless inconsequence. It was rather late in the day to discuss the matter. “We were counting on you,” Dilly sighed, and looked at the floor. He ventured this statement in the hope of keeping the subject alive; somehow it had seemed to languish. “I confess I don’t understand you two,” Haydock burst out. Every one who had the pleasure of knowing Billy and Dilly took refuge in this exclamation at one time or another. “How the devil have you managed to hang on here for four months? And why on earth did you come to college at all?” he shook the boy by the shoulders. Dilly’s apologia might have been interesting. He had on occasions attempted--by request--to defend the fact of his being at Harvard; but as he had always prefaced his few remarks with, “To begin with, I am of a taciturn disposition,” and as no one was quite willing to believe that he had a glimmer of the meaning of “taciturn,” he had never been allowed to proceed from that point. To-night the appearance of Billy with an armful of note-books made explanation impossible. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re not working,” said Billy, sweetly, all the note-books--there were six of them--fell to the floor when he sat down; “because we couldn’t have disturbed you, and I don’t know what we’d have done--Dilford’s told you?” “Yes, Dilford has told me,” answered Haydock. He knew that then was the time to escort these young gentlemen to the hall, and lock the door in their faces. But he allowed it to slip by, and it never returned. “Well, then--I don’t see why we shouldn’t dash right along. What do you think?” Billy looked from Haydock to Dilford and back again. “What is it you want--and what are all those books doing?” Haydock asked wearily.