At a little before eleven the prep. began to feel the force of training habits. He was gritting his teeth hard to keep from yawning. Tucker, who had not looked up for nearly an hour, whisked his papers and things to one side, slammed two drawers, turned a lock, and suddenly jumped up from his chair. He ran across the room with a yell which startled the prep. and made the chandelier ring. Then he threw himself upon two fellows on the divan and began calling them names. His teeth were set and his face so fierce that the prep. found it difficult to keep from believing him angry. And then the two on the divan arose in their might and cast him upon the floor, exclaiming, victoriously, "There, be Gosh." Tucker was through his work for the week and was feeling glad about it. That was his way of expressing it. "Now, Charlie," he said in a loud, careless manner, "we go out and have some fun now. Here's a cap. Don't wear that ugly stiff hat any more. See?" Symington had no idea where he was going, but he arose and said good-by to the three others in the room. They did not seem to feel badly in the least over their rude treatment on the part of their host. One of them, sitting on a table with one foot on a chair and the other on the floor, was reading a book of verses and did not look up when Tucker said, "So long." The other two, who had been talking about the baseball prospects and including Symington in their conversation, remained flat on their backs talking about the baseball prospects without Symington. It was a beautiful evening. In other words it was spring term and the night was clear. There were still groups of fellows seated on the doorsteps or stretched out under the trees. The gleam of their flannels could be seen in the dark. They were up in the balconies also. One of them knocked the ashes from his pipe and Symington saw the sparks float down. He heard a low laugh come from one of the wide open windows. Up from Witherspoon came the tinkle of mandolin music. They were playing to some visiting girls on those broad balconies in front. "This is West," said Tucker; "Jack Stehman lives in that room up there and Harry Lawrence in the one below----" "Oh, Stehman the tackle?" asked the prep. "Yes. Have you met him?" "No." "You will to-night." The prep.'s heart gave a bound. He was to meet Stehman. They passed down by Clio Hall and dingy Edwards and turned toward a long gray building a little to the left. "This is Dod Hall," Tucker said, and opened one of the big doors. They went up two or three flights of stairs and turned down the hall, and Tucker kicked a door at the end of it. Something clicked and the door opened of itself. Four or five voices shouted, "Come in."