Stover never failed to thank him with the utmost ceremony. Often the dialogue that ensued was farcically humorous, only little Wookey, solemn as an owl, never laughed. One night Stover, draped in difficult equilibrium on the mantelpiece, suddenly, in his new parental solicitude for the freshman, bethought himself of the curriculum. "Wookey." "Yes, sir." "One thing must speak about--meant speak about long time ago." "What, sir?" said Wookey, looking up apprehensively over his spectacles. "Study," said Stover, with terrific solemnity. "Want you be good scholar." "Oh, yes, sir." "Want you be validict--you understand what mean?" "Yes, sir." "Wookey, college life serious, finest thing in it's study, don't neglect study, you understand." "Yes, sir; I do study pretty hard." "Not enough," said Stover furiously. "Study all time! What 'cher do to-day? Recite in--in Greek, Latin, eh?" "Yes, sir--all right." "Good, very good--proud of you, Wookey," said Stover, satisfied. "Must be good influence--understand that, Wookey. Going to ask every night." "Yes, sir." "All right. Go an' study now. Study lot more." This feeling of the influence he was exerting for Wookey's academic betterment was so strong in Dink when the hour of midnight had passed that shortly after he brought McNab home with him to witness his works. When Wookey appeared, something displeased Stover. His protégé was not as he should be presented. Suddenly he remembered--Wookey was not in the pink pajamas! "Wookey," he said sternly. "Yes, sir." "The pink ones," he said solemnly. "Very well, sir." "Hurry." "Yes, sir." "Study's better in pink," said Stover wisely to McNab, who was trying to exceed him in dignity. "Most becomin'." "Aha!" "Make him study, Dopey," continued Stover. "I make him study." "Want hear'm reshite," said McNab, unconvinced. When Wookey, in changed costume, came puffing upstairs, books under his arm, McNab, who had been exhorted by Stover, viewed the pink pajamas with deliberation, and said: "Like you in pink, Wookey; always wear 'em. Want to hear you reshite." "Reshite," said Stover. "Hold up," said Dopey, scratching his head. "What's matter?" "Where going to sleep?" "Wookey, suggestions?" said Stover, who added in a thundering whisper to McNab, "Always leave such things to Wookey." The freshman busily took down the cushions from the window seat, piled up the pillows at one end before the fire, and brought up a rug. "Thank Mr. Wookey," said Stover severely. "Mr. Wookey, I thank you," said McNab, who sat down tailor fashion, and, staring at a book of geometry open on his lap, said: "I'm most--interested--most, very fond of Horace--reshite." Wookey in the pink pajamas, seated in a sort of spinal bend, overwhelmed by the terrifying delight of being admitted to the company of Olympians, began directly to translate an ode of Horace. McNab, staring at the geometry, turned a casual page, remarking from time to time severely: