“Why, you little rascal,” cried Phillip, “you’re asking for breakfast. I’m mighty sorry, but I don’t reckon I’ve got anything you’ll care about. Let’s see.” He searched his pockets carefully, the squirrel edging a few inches nearer and watching him intently. But, save for a few crumbs of tobacco, Phillip’s pockets contained nothing that had even the appearance of edibles. He shook his head. “Not a thing,” he said aloud. “But you wait until next time and I’ll bring you some nuts.” The squirrel seemed to understand, for he squeaked disappointedly and turned tail. Footsteps crossed the grass and Phillip turned. “I guess he’ll eat peanuts all right.” A fellow of about Phillip’s age approached. He was a sunny-haired, blue-eyed youth, and Phillip thought he had never seen one cleaner or more wholesome. He smiled genially and held out three or four peanuts. “Let’s try these on him,” he said. “Here, Sport!” The squirrel looked doubtfully for an instant at the newcomer, and then his eyes fell on the delicacies and he scrambled down onto the grass and approached bravely. “Some of them will eat out of your hand,” said the yellow-haired youth. “Come and get them if you want them.” The squirrel hesitated a moment at arm’s length and then ran forward and seized the nut. Retiring to the foot of the tree, he ate it hurriedly, apparently fearful that the others would escape him if he lingered overlong at the first. “Tame, aren’t they?” said Phillip. “Yes. There are lots of them here in the Yard. There’s one chap――he has part of his tail chewed off, so I know him――came up to my window-ledge yesterday and just begged. So I got some peanuts for him. But he hasn’t been around yet to-day, though I saw him in a tree a minute ago. Come on, Sport; here’s another. I can’t wait here all day, you know.” The invitation was readily accepted and, tossing the rest of the nuts onto the grass, the youth turned away. Phillip followed and the two walked along together, hurrying a little, since the bell had ceased its summons. “I guess this isn’t your first year?” said the blue-eyed fellow questioningly. “It is, though,” answered Phillip. “Really? I thought――――” He hesitated and then turned a laughing face to the other. “I guess I won’t say it.” “Go ahead,” begged Phillip. “I can’t see how you could have taken me for an old stager.” “Well, you looked so kind of don’t-give-a-hang, standing under the tree there, that I thought you were probably a soph. Hope you won’t take that as an insult.” “No indeed; why should I? I rather wish I was a sophomore, I reckon.” “Phew! That’s regular treason! Don’t you know that a freshman holds a soph. in the deepest contempt?” “No, I didn’t know it. Why?” “Oh――well, just because, I guess. It’s――it’s reciprocal. You have to; it’s part of the game.” “Oh.” Phillip looked puzzled. They had reached the steps of the recitation hall. “Well, I’m going in here,” he said, hesitatingly.