On the highest step of the rear piazza of his house stood Mr. Whitaker, the minister of Coventry Center. He was a man at least sixty-five years of age, genial and shrewd, the friend of every one in the region. On the ground before him now five men could be seen and neither Will nor Hawley had any difficulty in recognizing all five as sophomores. Will pinched Hawley's arm in his excitement, but did not speak, though it almost seemed to him that the thumpings of his heart must betray his presence to the men who were before him. Mr. Whitaker was speaking and instantly Will's attention was centered upon what was being said. "No, young gentlemen, I am not willing that you should enter my house." "But, Mr. Whitaker," said one in reply whom Will took to be a sophomore who roomed near him in Perry Hall, "we don't want to come into the house--just into the woodshed, that's all." "I cannot consent even to that." "We'll not harm anything." "You certainly will not if you do not enter." "We've got to come in, Mr. Whitaker!" said the speaker a little more boldly. "And I forbid it." An interval in the conversation then followed during which Will could see that the sophomores were conferring. They had withdrawn to a place about midway between the house and the barn and consequently were nearer the hiding-place of the two freshmen than before, but both were compelled to draw back for fear of being discovered and consequently were unable to hear what was said. In a brief time the sophomores returned to the piazza where the minister was still standing. "Mr. Whitaker," began the leader. "Yes, sir. At your service," responded the minister pleasantly. "Why do you object to our coming in? You know we won't do any harm to the place. You know what we've come for." "Perhaps that's the very reason why I object." "You don't have to stay here. We'll give you our word we won't harm anything. All we want is to get those freshmen canes. You're not responsible for them and you certainly don't mean to say that you would stand up for that class. Why it's the worst that ever entered Winthrop." "I have frequently heard of the class," said the minister laughing genially as he spoke. "I have a grandson who chances to be a member of it." "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to say that every fellow in it was a poor stick. All I meant was that as a class it's the most conceited one that was ever seen. That's what every one says." "Doubtless," remarked Mr. Whitaker dryly. "You don't care anything about the squabbles of the classes. It's nothing to you anyway, Mr. Whitaker," pleaded the sophomore. "What led you to suspect that the canes might be here?" "It wouldn't be fair to tell that," laughed the sophomore. "We know they're here all right, and that's enough." "Would you believe me if I were to say to you that they are not here?" "Yes, sir, I suppose we should," replied the sophomore dubiously, "but you won't say it." "Why not, since they are not here?"