Hugh parted from Guy and Stiles and went on up to his study. Bert was not yet back, and, after thoughtfully staring from the window at the passing groups below, he went out and down the corridor to Number 34. His rap on the half-opened door elicited a response and he entered to find the single occupant of the room minus coat and waistcoat, perched at the window and surrounded by books and papers. Cathcart was tall and thin, with a fair complexion and a good deal of unruly red-brown hair. Just now, a green shade over his eyes and a pair of black rubber spectacles on his nose, he presented an amusing vision as he glanced near-sightedly across. Cathcart was eighteen, a senior and an acknowledged “grind.” It was said of him that faculty had almost broken his heart in his lower middle year by refusing to let him take more than twenty-one hours a week. He got as much pleasure out of studying as Bert Winslow did from football or Guy Murtha from baseball, and was absolutely unable to get the point of view of the fellow who considered study a disagreeable thing to be avoided as much as possible. It was not until Hugh was halfway across the room, which combined study and bedroom, that Cathcart recognized him. When he did he untangled himself slowly, distributing sheets of paper around the floor, and slid to his feet. “Hello,” he said doubtfully. “Hello,” answered the visitor. Then, without further remarks, they set to rescuing the scattered papers. This gave them time to consider the situation and when they faced each other again Cathcart said: “About the other night, Ordway: I hope you didn’t think there was anything personal in what I did?” “Not for a moment, Cathcart. I’d have done just what you did, you know. That’s quite all right, I assure you.” “Well, I’m glad you take it that way, really. You see, being proctor has its drawbacks. I wasn’t anxious for it, but it makes a big difference in my expenses for the year, you see. I get my room a good deal cheaper, and that’s rather nice in my case. I was glad faculty let you off as easily as they did, Ordway.” “Thanks, yes, they were really very decent to me. Where I made my mistake, Cathcart, was in not coming up the other stairway.” Hugh smiled. “You wouldn’t have heard me then, I fancy.” “I don’t think I would,” agreed the other. “I――I wish you had. Someone said you got shut up in the gym, I believe?” “In School Hall.” Hugh narrated his adventures on Thursday evening. “But if you had shouted out the window someone would surely have heard you,” said Cathcart. “Yes, but I didn’t want to give those lower middle beggars the satisfaction, if you know what I mean. And I rather funked having it get around that I’d been such a silly ass, too! I say, I’m keeping you from work, eh?” “No, you’re not, really. Push those books aside and make yourself comfortable. I wish you’d tell me whether Bert has it in for me, Ordway.”