"You did n’t happen to see an iron bedstead lying around the streets anywhere, did you? The good Chester has evidently spent the last three months in putting my rooms in order and I can’t find a thing." I told him I had seen a bed in the back yard this afternoon, but that I did n’t think it could be his. He asked me very seriously why not. And then all at once I got horribly rattled. I didn’t like to tell him that the bed had n’t looked nearly big enough for him (it was a little narrow thing), for I was afraid he might think me fresh. Then besides, I found that I had instinctively stood up when I saw him, and as there wasn’t any particular reason why I should have done this, I got sort of confused. "Of course it’s a very nice little bed," I hastened to add. Whereupon he burst out laughing with a loud whoop. "If it ’s such a nice one it certainly can’t be mine, and I ’d better go down and swipe it right away," he said at last, and clattered downstairs. I tried again to write to mamma, but he made such a noise coming upstairs with pieces of bed and running down again that I could n’t fix my mind. Then, too, I kept wondering whether I ought to offer to help him. Finally I went out as he was coming up with a mattress on his shoulder and asked, "Was it your bed, after all?" which made him laugh again and say: "I wouldn’t tell you for anything in the world. If you aren’t too busy, though, I wish you would help me put the beastly thing together." We tried for about half an hour to make the bed stand up. It looked simple enough, but whenever we got the sides firm and more or less parallel, the back and front would wobble and fall to the floor. Once we had all four pieces standing beautifully, but just as we put on the woven wire business and Mr. Duggie (that’s what Mrs. Chester calls him—I don’t think it ’s his real name, though) exclaimed, "I have the honor to report, sir, that the allied forces have taken New Bedford," the whole thing collapsed and pinched his finger fearfully as it came down. After that we sat on the floor awhile. He smoked a pipe and glanced meditatively at the ruins of the bed every now and then, and at last turned to me and said, "Is this your first year here?" I didn’t let him see how pleased I was that he had not discovered I was a Freshman, and merely answered, "Yes."