“No, Mooney’s, you coot!” Chick disappeared into the corridor in slippers and dressing-gown. Bert stared at the ceiling a moment and then got out of bed and consulted his watch. The little clock for once was right to a minute. When Chick returned from the lavatory Bert was apparently asleep and Chick turned out the light and got into bed. Silence reigned for a minute or two. Then Chick asked softly: “Asleep, Bert?” “No, are you?” “Sure! No, listen. Who do you suppose I met over on Meadow street, coming home?” “Prince of Wales?” “No; Johnny.” After a moment Bert asked: “Did he see you?” “Of course he did,” replied the other impatiently. “Didn’t I say I met him? Ran right into him, almost, in front of that laundry over there.” “Did he say anything?” “Nothing but ‘Ah, Burton!’ or something like that.” “What time was it, Chick?” “Ten, or nearly. The clock struck when I got to West street. Talk about rotten luck! Why the dickens he was prowling around over there at that time of night, goodness only knows! If he had stopped I’d have given him a stall, but he just said ‘Ah, Burton’ in a kind of a funny tone and kept right on. I think he had something in his hand; a bag, I guess.” “Maybe he’s going home over Sunday. There’s a train about ten-twenty, I think.” “That’s so.” Silence fell again in Number 21 and continued for several minutes. Then Chick’s voice came once more. “Sort of wish I hadn’t run into him, Bert.” “Me and you both,” agreed Bert. “Of course it’s blamed poppycock, that ten o’clock bed rule, but he’s acting kind of snorty this fall and he may get on his ear about it. If he does, by gosh, I’ll tell him I’m no kid freshman to have to go to bed with the chickens!” “Sure! That will make it all right with him,” answered Bert. “He will like that, Chick.” “Oh, well, hang it, a fellow’s got to have some fun! What’s the good of going to bed at ten, anyway? You don’t get to sleep.” “Not if you keep on talking,” said Bert, yawning. “Gosh,” grumbled the other, “you could go to sleep at seven, I guess. How long have you been in bed?” “Couple of hours.” “What, didn’t you go out at all?” “Uh-huh--I mean no! Say, for Pete’s sake, Chick, shut up and go to sleep! How do you think I’m going to keep my schoolgirl complexion if you go on jabbering?” “All right. But, just the same, I wish I’d come home by State street!” “Or started earlier,” murmured Bert. Chick glared resentfully across through the darkness but could think of no appropriate retort. Then came unmistakable indications that his room-mate was asleep. CHAPTER III AN HUMBLE MEMBER