"How'd the summer go?" "Wonderful. I've got four hundred tucked away in the bank." "You don't say so!" "Fact." Stover shook hands again eagerly. "Tell me all about it." "Sure. Go on with your unpacking; I'll lend a hand. I've had a bully summer." "What's that mean?" said Stover, with a quizzical smile. "Working like a slave?" "No, no; seeing real people. I tried being a conductor a while, got in a strike, and switched over to construction work. Got to be foreman of a gang, night shift." "You don't mean out all night?" "Oh, I slept in the day. You get used to it. They're a strange lot, the fellows who work while the rest of you sleep. They brushed me up a lot, taught me a lot. Wish you'd been along. You'd have got some education." "I may do something of the sort with you next summer," said Stover quietly. "They tell me Tough McCarthy's not coming back." "Yes; father died." "Too bad. Going to room alone?" "For a while. I want to get away--think things over a bit, read some." "Good idea," said Regan, with one of his sharp appraising looks. "If a man's given a thinker, he might just as well use it." Hungerford and Bob Story joined them, and the four went down to Mory's to take possession in the name of the sophomore class. Regan, to their surprise, making one of the party, paid as they paid, with just a touch of conscious pride. The good resolves that Dink made to himself, under the influence of the acute emotions he had felt on his return, gradually faded from his memory as he felt himself caught up again in the rush of college life. He found his day marked out for him, his companions assigned to him, his standards and his opinions inherited from his predecessors. Insensibly he became a cog in the machine. What with football practise and visiting the freshman class in the interest of his society, he found he was able to keep awake long enough to get a smattering of the next day's work and no more. The class had scattered and groups with clear tendencies had formed, Hunter and Tommy Bain the center of little camps serious and ambitious, while off the campus in a private dormitory another element was pursuing mannish delights with the least annoyance from the curriculum. The opposition to the sophomore societies had now grown to a college issue. Protests from the alumni began to come in; one of the editors of the _Lit_ made it the subject of his leader, while the college, under the leadership of rebels like Gimbel, arrayed itself in uncompromising opposition and voted down every candidate for office that the sophomore societies placed in the field.