The man's perfect simplicity and unconsciousness impressed Stover more than all the fetish of enthroned upper classmen; he was always a little embarrassed before Regan. "No," he said frankly, "but, Regan, I would like to have you with us, and I think you'd like it." "We'll talk it over," said Regan deliberately. "I'll think it over myself. Good-by." Stover put out his hand instinctively. Their hands held each other a moment, and their eyes met in open, direct friendship. He stood a moment thoughtfully, after they had parted. What he had offered had been offered impulsively. He began to wonder if it would work out without embarrassment in the intimacy of the eating-joint. The crowd that they had joined--as Gimbel had predicted--had taken a long dining-room cheerily lighted, holding one table, around which sixteen ravenous freshmen managed to squeeze in turbulent, impatient clamor. Bob Story, Hunter and his crowd, Hungerford and several men from Groton and St. Mark's, Schley and his room-mate Troutman made up a coterie that already had in it the elements of the leadership of the class. As he was deliberating, he perceived Joe Hungerford rolling along, with his free and easy slouch, immersed in the faded blue sweater into which he had lazily bolted to make chapel, a cap riding on the exuberant wealth of blond hair. He broached the subject at once: "Say, Hungerford, you're the man I want." "Fire away." Stover detailed his invitation to Regan, concluding: "Now, tell me frankly what you think." "Have him with us, by all means," said Hungerford impulsively. "Might it not be a little embarrassing? How do you think the other fellows would like it?" "Why, there's only one way to take it," said Hungerford directly. "Our crowd's too damned select now to suit me. We need him a darn sight more than he needs us." "I knew you'd feel that way." "By George, that's why I came to Yale. If there are any little squirts in the crowd think differently, a swift kick where it'll do the most good will clear the atmosphere." Stover looked at him with impulsive attraction. He was boyish, unspoiled, eager. "Now, look here, Dink--you don't mind me calling you that, do you?" continued Hungerford, with a little hesitation. "Go ahead." "I want you to understand how I feel about things. I've got about everything in the world to make a conceited, pompous, useless little ass out of me, and about two hundred people who want to do it. I wish to blazes I was starting where Regan is--where my old dad did; I might do something worth while. Now, I don't want any hungry, boot-licking little pups around me whose bills I am to pay. I want to come in on your scale, and I'm mighty glad to get the chance. That's why my allowance isn't going to be one cent more than yours; and I want you to know it. Now, as for this fellow Regan--he sounds like a man. I tell you what I'll do. I'll fix it up in a shake of a lamb's tail."