"Oh, pshaw! You're getting sentimental in your old age!" he exclaimed half aloud. "You've got to have your share of hard knocks in this world, and you've got to take what comes. But it's queer," he went on in his self-communing, "how Langridge seems to be getting mixed up with me. This is twice I've had to suffer on his account. I'd like--yes, hang it all, what's the use of pretending to yourself--I'd like to take it out of him--in some way. It's not fair--that's what!" The thought of Langridge brought another sort of musing to Tom. He saw a certain fair face, with pouting lips and bright, dancing eyes, a face framed in a fluffy mass of hair, and he fancied he could hear a little laugh, a mocking little laugh. "Worse and worse," growled Tom to himself. "You're getting dopy. Better go take a long walk." He kicked impatiently at a stone in the path and wheeled around just as a voice exclaimed: "Ah, Parsons, admiring the windows? The color effects are never so beautiful as early morning and the evening. The garish light of day seems to make them common. But--er--are you going to recitation? If so, I'll walk along with you," and genial Dr. Churchill, with a friendly nod of his head and a twinkle in his deep-set eyes, came closer to the lad. Tom wondered if the good doctor knew of the punishment that had just been meted out. If he did not he soon would have the report of the proctor for confirmation. "I've been suspended," blurted out Tom. "I was going to my room to study." "Suspended, Parsons! This is the second time, isn't it?" There was surprise and dismay in the doctor's voice. "Yes, sir, but----" Tom paused. How much should he tell, how much leave unsaid? "How did it happen?" asked the head of the college, and he placed his arm on Tom's shoulder in a friendly fashion. Tom said afterward that it was just as if he had been hypnotized. Before he knew it he was telling the whole story. "But I never mentioned the name of Langridge," he protested to Sid, to whom later he related all the events. "I never even hinted at it, but for all that I believe Moses knew. He's a regular corkscrew." Dr. Churchill was silent after the recital, a recital rather brokenly made, but containing all the essential facts. "Suspended for two weeks!" he murmured when Tom had finished. "With no athletics," added Tom. "Not even to see the games that are to be played here, and there are to be two." "Hum," mused the doctor. "Well, you know we must have discipline here, Parsons. Without it we would soon have chaos. But--ah--er--hum! Well, come and see me this evening. I will have a talk with Mr. Zane. He has to be strict, you know, very strict under certain circumstances, but--er--um--come and see me to-night." "What do you s'pose he wants?" asked Sid when Tom had told him of the meeting. "Blessed if I know, unless it's to give me a lecture on my conduct." "No, Moses isn't that kind."