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“Welcome, Merrill, to our happy little home,” said Tad. “Hope you’ll like us and our quaint ways. Pete, get up and give Merrill a seat, you impolite loafer.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to sit down,” replied Rodney. “I was putting my things away.”

“Don’t let Kitty impose on you,” advised Tom Trainor, a slender, light-complexioned chap. “If you don’t watch him he will have his things all over the place. Sometimes he forgets which is his own bed and goes to sleep in the other one. You got here early, Merrill.”

“I came on the boat from New York. It was very nice.”

“It’s nice enough once—or even a couple of times—” said Hoyt, a short chap with a snub nose and a bored expression. “After that it’s monotonous.”

“I’d hate to be world weary as you are, Warren,” said Jack Billings, dryly. “Well, we’re having early supper to-night, fellows, so we’d better move along. Come in and see us, Merrill, when you get straightened out. By the way, it’s Faculty Reception to-night; about seven-thirty; better come along and meet the tyrants. We’re all going—all except Kitty.”