"Isn’t Berrisford here? Has he gone?" he exclaimed excitedly. (I had never seen him before—although I knew his chum, Brooks, slightly.) "We were going to dine at the same house in town, but my roommate, Jerry Brooks, got sick just as I was starting and I can’t go, and two doctors have taken him up to the hospital, and the Hemingtons haven’t a telephone, and I thought I’d let Berrisford know, for, of course——" Well, his coat didn’t fit me in a way to make a tailor expire with envy exactly, but I was mighty glad to get it—and anyhow, I think people are inclined to take a dress-suit for granted. Berrisford attached no importance whatever to the fact that his beast had ruined my coat, but merely said reproachfully: "I hope you let him have the pieces to play with; he ’ll be so lonely this evening with no one in the house except Mrs. Chester." I have mentioned the fact that of late Duggie has given intimations of having me "on his mind." Of course when a man like Duggie finds time to care one way or the other about what he thinks you ought to do, it’s a great honor. He is the busiest, hardest worked, and most influential person I ever knew. He belongs to no end of clubs, and besides being captain of the team he’s at the head of a lot of other college things. Almost every day there’s a reporter or two lying in wait for him out here to ask about the team, and whether he approves of the athletic committee’s latest mandate, and what he thinks about all sorts of things in regard to which he hasn’t any opinion whatever—and would n’t express it even if he had. Besides all this he manages in some way to study awfully hard and to get high marks in everything he takes. Furthermore, he’s in training most of the year, and just now he has to go to bed every night except Saturday at half-past nine or ten. He’s almost always amiable and kind to people, and I think he’s great. I can’t help liking the fact that he drops into my room and sits down and talks the way he does. Some of the fellows at our table found him there the other day and were scared to death. But at the same time I have a feeling that he does n’t think Berrisford and I are just what we ought to be. As if people could be different from the way they ’re made! I know that sometimes he would like to say things that, after all, he never quite does. Of Berrisford, I ’m sure, he doesn’t approve at all. I don’t, of course, believe for a moment that he was anything but amused at the way Berrisford conjugated the French verb for him the other day; but as it is the sort of thing that Berri takes an uncontrollable joy in doing, I think Duggie has an idea that he is n’t good for anything else.