"I wonder what's up now," thought Dink, without uneasiness. He knew that it was the custom of men in the class above about to go into the senior societies to acquaint themselves with the tendencies of the next class. "That's it," he said to himself; "they want to know if I'm heeling Bones or Keys." "You've got a great bunch of junk," said Le Baron, finishing his inspection. "Yes, it's quite a mixture." Le Baron, refusing a seat, stood before the fireplace, a pocket knife juggling in his hands, seeking an opening. "Here, I'll have a cigarette," he said finally, with a frown. Reynolds, more business-like, broke out: "Dink, we've dropped in to have a little straight talk with you." "All right." He felt a premonition of what was coming, and the short note of authority in Reynolds's voice seemed to stiffen everything inside of him. "We've dropped a few hints to you," continued Reynolds, in his staccato manner, "and you haven't chosen to understand them. Now we're going to put it right to you." "Hold up, Benny," said Le Baron, who had lit his cigarette, "it's not necessary to talk that way. Let me explain." "No, put it to me straight," said Stover, looking past Le Baron straight into Reynolds's eyes. An instinctive antagonism was in him, the revolt of the man of action, the leader in athletics, at being criticized by the man of the pen. "Stover, we don't like what you've been doing lately." "Why not?" "You're shaking your own crowd, and you're identifying yourself with a crowd that doesn't count. What the deuce has got into you?" "Just shut up for a moment, Benny," said Le Baron, giving him a look, "you're not putting the thing in the right way." "I'm not jumping on any one," said Reynolds. "I'm giving him good advice." Stover looked at him without speaking, then he turned to Le Baron. "Well?" "Look here, Dink," said Le Baron conciliatingly. "A lot of us fellows have spoken to you, but you didn't seem to understand. Now, what I'm saying is because I like you, and because you are making a mistake. We're interested personally, and for the society's sake, in seeing you make out of yourself what you ought to be, one of the big men of the class. Dink, what's happened? Have you lost your nerve about anything--anything wrong?" "Wait a moment--let me understand the thing," said Stover, absolutely dumbfounded. Reynolds's purely unintentional false start had left him cold with anger. "Am I to understand that you have come here to inform me that you do not approve of the friends I've been making?" "Hold up," said Le Baron. "No, let's have it straight. That's what I want, too," he said quickly, facing Reynolds. "You criticize the crowd I'm going with, and you want me to chuck them. That's it in plain English, isn't it?" A little flush showed on Reynolds's face. He, too, felt the physical superiority in Stover, and the antagonism thereof, and, being provoked, he answered more shortly than he meant to: "Let it go at that."