But the one occupied by Sid and Tom was quite plain. There was a worn rug on the floor, so worn, in fact, that the floor showed through it in several places. But Sid remarked that it was a virtue rather than otherwise, for it obviated the necessity of being careful about spilling things on the rug, and also did away with the necessity of a door mat. "They can't harm the rug, no matter how much mud they bring in," Sid had said, when Tom suggested getting a new one. There were two small iron cots or single beds in the apartment, a bureau for each lad, a closet for clothes, but which closet contained balls, gloves, bats, sweaters, old trousers and other sporting "goods," almost to the exclusion of clothes. And then the closet did not contain it all, for many articles overflowed into the room, and no amount of compression sufficed to get things entirely within the closet. There was always something sticking out. Several old chairs, one a lounging one with a broken set of springs in the seat, a sofa that creaked in every joint, like an old man with rheumatism, a table with a cover spotted with ink, a shelf of books, an alarm clock, some cheap pictures, prints from sporting papers, and water pitchers and bowls completed the furnishings. Tom wondered, as he fell asleep, whether the sophomores would make a further attempt to regain the clapper, but they did not, and the night was undisturbed by further pranks. At chapel next morning Dr. Churchill, after the usual devotions, announced with a twinkle in his deep-set eyes that the reason there was no bell to call the students to worship was because the tocsin was clapperless. "It mysteriously disappeared during the night," went on the president, "and--er--well, ahem! I think matters may take their usual course," he finished quickly, trying hard not to smile. It was always this way. By "usual course" Dr. Churchill and the students understood that the freshmen would meet, make up by contributions enough to buy a new clapper, and the incident would be closed until another year brought new freshmen to the college. This course was followed. Langridge, who was president of the class, called a meeting that afternoon, the amount needed was quickly subscribed, and the money was taken to Dr. Churchill. "Why do you encourage that nonsense?" asked Professor Emerson Tines, the Latin instructor (dubbed "Pitchfork" by the college lads in virtue of his name). "Why do you submit to it?" He happened to be with the president when Langridge brought in the money. "I don't submit to it, Professor Tines." "But you encourage it." "No; I simply ignore it." "But the clapper is taken year after year." "Is it?" asked the doctor innocently. "Well, now, so I have been informed by the janitor, but, you know, of my own knowledge I am not aware of it. It is simply hearsay evidence, and I never like to depend on that." "But, my dear sir, don't you _know_ that the clapper is taken by the first-year pupils?"