Allan considered the matter. It sounded rather easy, and since an hour ago he had grown to view easy tasks with suspicion. But he could find no ground for objection, and in the end he accepted the proposal gratefully and stammered a somewhat lame apology for his hasty discourtesy. The Chairman of the Athletic Committee waved it politely aside. “We will consider it settled, then,” he said. “This afternoon we will decide on the hours for the extra work. I’m glad you brought this matter up, Mr. Ware, for I think the time has come to do away with a pernicious custom. Good morning.” On his way to his next recitation Allan reflected somewhat ruefully that under the new arrangement there was one thing which had been lost sight of, and that was a public vindication. As long as he continued to work in the office fellows would continue to think he was receiving money not earned. To be sure, he had the consolation of a clear conscience, but it was hard to have the fellows he knew and whose respect he craved think badly of him. But there Allan was mistaken, for the story got out in short order--Tommy saw to that!--and it wasn’t long before he heard an account of the matter, in which he figured as a model of indignant virtue and a galley-slave to conscience, from a fellow whom he knew very slightly. After that he had no doubts about public vindication. It was not a difficult matter to find three hours in the evening each week for the new labor, and he found it, since he had a fondness for mathematics, far more interesting than the daily letter-writing and clerical work. But five dollars a week wasn’t ten, and so, despite the protests of Pete and all the other members of the club table, he left the hospitality of Mrs. Pearson’s and went back to the college dining-hall, where he could, by careful management, make his monthly bill ridiculously small. Pete commanded and implored to be allowed to “fix things up” so that Allan need not leave the table; he almost wept; but Allan was obdurate. Pete even threatened to “let the table go hang” and return with Allan to Commons, but was finally dissuaded when Allan pointed out that in all probability he (Allan) would very shortly be taken onto the training-table of the track squad. So Pete accepted the inevitable and draped Allan’s chair with some dozen yards of black crêpe, and allowed none to occupy it for a week of mourning. But Allan wasn’t a stranger to the table, for every Saturday night he returned there as Pete’s guest and sat in his old seat and was made much of by the crowd. CHAPTER XVIII AN ALARM OF FIRE “Mary had a little dog, It was a noble pup; ’Twould stand upon its front legs When you’d hold its hind legs up!” Thus warbled Tommy as, having kicked the door shut, he subsided into one of Allan’s chairs by sliding over the back. Allan pushed his book away, yawned dismally, and looked over at his visitor mutely questioning: “Where’s Pete?” Tommy demanded.