Carl was perspiring at the thought of what the Gang would do to him when they discovered that he had invited Genie. But he was game. "Come up to my room whenever you can, and help me with my boning," he added. "You mustn't ever get the idea that we're conferring any blooming favor by having you around. It's you that help us. Our necks are pretty well sandpapered, I'm afraid.... Come up to my room any time.... I'll have to be hiking on if I'm going to get much of a walk. Come over and see me to-night." "I wish you'd come up to Mr. Frazer's with me some Sunday afternoon for tea, Ericson." Henry Frazer, M.A. (Yale), associate professor of English literature, was a college mystery. He was a thin-haired young man, with a consuming love of his work, which was the saving of souls by teaching Lycidas and Comus. This was his first year out of graduate school, his first year at Plato--and possibly his last. It was whispered about that he believed in socialism, and the president, the Rev. Dr. S. Alcott Wood, had no patience with such silly fads. Carl marveled, "Do you go to Frazer's?" "Why, yes!" "Thought everybody was down on him. They say he's an anarchist, and I know he gives fierce assignments in English lit.; that's what all the fellows in his classes say." "All the fools are down on him. That's why I go to his house." "Don't the fellows--uh--kind of----" "Yes," piped Genie in his most childish tone of anger, his tendency to stammer betraying him, "they k-kid me for liking Frazer. He's--he's the only t-teacher here that isn't p-p-p----" "Spit!" "----provincial!" "What d'you mean by 'provincial'?" "Narrow. Villagey. Do you know what Bernard Shaw says----?" "Never read a word of him, my son. And let me tell you that my idea of no kind of conversation is to have a guy spring 'Have you read?' on me every few seconds, and me coming back with: 'No, I haven't. Ain't it interesting!' If that's the brand of converse at Prof Frazer's you can count me out." Genie laughed. "Think how much more novelty you get out of roasting me like that than telling Terry he's got 'bats in his belfry' ten or twelve times a day." "All right, my son; you win. Maybe I'll go to Frazer's with you. Sometime." The Sunday following Carl went to tea at Professor Henry Frazer's.