Conover's was not in the catalogue that anxious parents study, but then catalogues are like epitaphs in a cemetery. Next to the jigger-shop, Conover's was quite the most important institution in the school. In a little white Colonial cottage, Conover, veteran of the late war, and Mrs. Conover, still in active service, supplied pancakes and maple syrup on a cash basis, two dollars credit to second-year boys in good repute. Conover's, too, had its traditions. Twenty-six pancakes, large and thick, in one continuous sitting, was the record, five years old, standing to the credit of Guzzler Wilkins, which succeeding classes had attacked in vain. Wily Conover, to stimulate such profitable tests, had solemnly pledged himself to the delivery of free pancakes to all comers during that day on which any boy, at one continuous sitting, unaided, should succeed in swallowing the awful number of thirty-two. Conover was not considered a prodigal. This deed of heroic accomplishment and public benefaction was the true goal of Hickey's planning. The test of the jigger-shop was but a preliminary trying out. With medical caution, Doc Macnooder refused to permit Smeed to go beyond the ten doubles, holding very wisely that the jigger record could wait for a further day. The amazed Al was sworn to secrecy. It was Wednesday, and the following Saturday was decided upon for the supreme test at Conover's. Smeed at once was subjected to a graduated system of starvation. Thursday he was hungry, but Friday he was so ravenous that a watch was instituted on all his movements. The next morning the Dickinson House, let into the secret, accompanied Smeed to Conover's. If there was even a possibility of free pancakes, the House intended to be satisfied before the deluge broke. Great was the astonishment at Conover's at the arrival of the procession. "Mr. Conover," said Hickey, in the quality of manager, "we're going after that pancake record." "Mr. Wilkins' record?" said Conover, seeking vainly the champion in the crowd. "No--after that record of _yours_," answered Hickey. "Thirty-two pancakes--we're here to get free pancakes to-day--that's what we're here for." "So, boys, so," said Conover, smiling pleasantly; "and you want to begin now?" "Right off the bat." "Well, where is he?" Little Smeed, famished to the point of tears, was thrust forward. Conover, who was expecting something on the lines of a buffalo, smiled confidently. "So, boys, so," he said, leading the way with alacrity. "I guess we're ready, too." "Thirty-two pancakes, Conover--and we get 'em free!" "That's right," answered Conover, secure in his knowledge of boyish capacity. "If that little boy there can eat thirty-two I'll make them all day free to the school. That's what I said, and what I say goes--and that's what I say now." Hickey and Doc Macnooder whispered the last instructions in Smeed's ear. "Cut out the syrup." "Loosen your belt." "Eat slowly."