“Now, then,” said his new acquaintance quietly, “all out, if you please, gentlemen. I’ll look after the patient. Leave him to me.” The group at the doorway melted away, and Hop followed. As he passed out, he turned and found Evan’s gaze still on him. “Well, you’ll know me, I guess, when you see me again,” he said crossly. “I think I shall,” answered Evan, calmly. His host chuckled as he closed and bolted the door. Then he came back and sank into a chair opposite Evan, his legs sprawling across the floor. “Well?” he asked kindly. “Any damage?” “No, I guess not. My head aches and I’m sort of dizzy, but I’ll be all right in a minute.” “I guess so. Just come, did you?” “Yes; I was looking for my room when that chap――” “Frank Hopkins.” “When he got mad because I scowled at him. We tussled, and I fell through the door.” “That was partly my fault. I’m sorry. You see, I’d been fixing the latch so I could open it from bed, and I hadn’t quite finished when you bumped against the door. What’s your name?” “Kingsford.” “Mine’s Langton; first name Robert; commonly called Rob; sometimes Lanky. Glad to meet you. Nice of you to drop in so casually.” Evan laughed. “That’s better. Wait a minute.” Rob got up and went to the wash-stand and dipped a towel in the pitcher. “Put that around your head,” he directed. “It’s good for aches. Too wet, is it? Let me have it.” He wrung some of the water out on the carpet and handed it back. “There you are. What room have they put you into?” “Thirty-six.” “No good,” said Rob, with a shake of his head. “You’ll freeze to death there. The Gobbler had it two years ago, and he did something to the steam-pipes so that the heat doesn’t get around any more. He vows he didn’t, but I know the Gobbler.” “Can’t it be fixed?” “It never has been. They’ve tried dozens of times. I have an idea what the trouble is, and I told Mac――he’s house faculty here――that I could fix it if he’d let me. But he never would.” “Well, I suppose I’ll have to live there just the same,” said Evan, with a smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Where do you come from, Kingsford?” “Elmira, New York.” “Really? My home’s in Albany. We’re natives of the same old State, aren’t we? I guess we’ll get on all right. What class are you in?” “Junior.” “So am I. That’s another bond of sympathy. I call this great luck! I hate to live alone. Sandy Whipple was with me last year, but he had typhoid in the summer and isn’t coming back for a while. And now you happen in. Well, make yourself at home, Kingsford. It isn’t a bad room, you see. That’s your side over there.” “But――this isn’t 36, is it?” asked Evan. “Not a bit of it. This is 32. I told you, didn’t I, that 36 was no good?” “But they’ve put me there! Won’t I have to go?” “Of course not. I’ll settle it with the Doctor. You’re inclined to colds, you know, and 36 wouldn’t do for a minute. You leave it all to me. Any consumption in your family?” “No. Why in the world do you ask that?”