The shop began to empty rapidly as the hour of the two o'clock recitation neared. Stover gazed into the pink, fruity depths of his first strawberry jigger, inserted his spoon gingerly and took a nibble. Then he drew a long, contented breath, gazed into the land of dreams, and gave himself up to the delights of a new, of an incomparable sensation. Butsey White, gobbling against time, flung out occasional, full-mouthed phrases: "Got to run--'xcuse us--jemima! Isn't it the stuff--see you at three--better bring some back in box--don't tell any one, though--especially the Coffee-colored Angel." Across the fields the bell suddenly, impatiently, brutally clanged out. With a last convulsive gulp Butsey White finished his glass, and burst from the shop in the helter-skelter company of the last laggards. Stover, left alone, looked inquiringly at Al. "Recitation," said Al. "They've got a two-twenty sprint before the bell stops. We're out of hours, now, except for the Upper House." "Meaning me?" said Stover, rising. "Sit where you are," said Al. "You're all right for to-day. Where do you hang out?" "Green House," said Dink, who, beginning to feel hungry, ordered another jigger and selected a chocolate eclair. "You're not rooming with Butsey White?" "The same." "You are?" said Al pityingly. "Well, just let me give you one word of advice, young fellow. Sew your shirt to your back, or he'll have it off while you're getting into your coat." "I wasn't born yesterday," said Dink impudently, gesturing with his spoon. "And I rather fancy I'm a pretty cute little proposition myself." "So!" "If any of these smart Alecs can get the best of me," said Dink grandiloquently, egged on by the other's tone of disbelief, "he'll have to get up with the chickens!" [Illustration: "WHY, SOME OF 'EM ARE SO SLICK THAT WHEN THEY COME IN I LOCK THE CASH DRAWER AND STUFF COTTON IN MY EARS"] "All clear," said the Tennessee Shad from the window. "All's well on the Rappahannock," returned the scout at the door. Macnooder, with a well-executed double shuffle, the Tennessee Shad, with a stiff-jointed lope of his bony body, advanced and shook hands. "Al, we come not to take your hard-earned money, but do you good," said Macnooder as usual, genially shaking an imaginary hand. The Tennessee Shad camped on the back of a chair, drew up his thin, long legs, laid one bony finger against a bony nose and looked expectantly at Macnooder. Meanwhile Al, without turning his back, carefully moved over to the glass counter that sheltered appetizing trays of eclairs, plum cakes and cream puffs and, whistling a melancholy note, locked the door, scanned the counter, and placed a foot on the cover of the jigger tub. Doc Macnooder, whose round, bullet head and little rhinoceros eyes had followed the hostile preparation, said sorrowfully: "Al-bert, your conduct grieves us." "Go ahead, now," said Al in a tired voice.