Andy at Yale | Page 8

was marked by friendly calls on many sides. He was a general favorite, Harry Morton by name, but seldom called anything but "Swipes," from a habit he had of taking or "swiping" signs, and other mementoes of tradesmen about town; the said signs and insignia of business later adorning his room.
"Got space?" asked Harry, as he paused at the little compartment which held our friends.
"Surest thing you know, Swipes. Shove over there, Frank. Are you trying to hog the whole bench?"
"Not when Swipes is around," was the retort. "I'll leave that to him."
"Half-ton benches are a little out of my line," laughed the newcomer, as he found room at the table. "Bring me a rarebit, Adolph, and don't leave out the cheese."
"No, sir, Mr. Morton! Ho! ho! Dot's a goot vun! A rarebit mitout der cheese! Ach! Dot is goot!" and the fat German waiter went off chuckling at the old joke.
"What's the matter, Andy, you look as if you'd had bad news from your best girl?" asked Harry, clapping Andy on the shoulder. "Cheer up, the worst is yet to come."
"You're right there!" exclaimed Andy, heartily. "The worst is yet to come. I'm going to Yale----"
"Hurray! Rah! rah! That's the stuff! But talk about the worst, I can't see it. I wish I were in your rubbers."
"And that dub Mortimer Gaffington is there, too," went on Andy. "That's the worst."
"I don't quite get you," said Harry, in puzzled tones. "Is this Gaffington one of the bulldog profs. who eats freshmen alive?"
"No, he's a fellow from our town," explained Andy, "and he and I are on the outs. We've been so for a long time. It was at a ball game some time ago. Our town team was playing and I was catching. Mort was pitching. He accused me of deliberately throwing away the game, and naturally I went back at him. We had a fight, and since then we haven't spoken. He's rich, and all that, but I don't like him; not because I beat him in a fair fight, either. Well, he went to Yale last year, and I was glad when he left town. Now I'm sorry he's at Yale, since I'm going there. I know he'll try to make it unpleasant for me."
"Oh, well, make the best of it," advised Harry, philosophically. "He can't last for ever. Here comes my eats! Let's get busy."
"So Mort will be a sophomore when you get to New Haven, will he?" asked Frank of Andy.
"He will if he doesn't flunk, and I don't suppose he will. He's smart enough in a certain way. Oh, well, what's the use of worrying? As Harry says, here come the eats."
Adolph staggered in with a well-heaped tray containing Harry's order, and he and his chums finished their meal talking the while. The evening wore on, more students dropping in to make merry in Kelly's. A large group formed about the nucleus made by Andy and his chums. These lads were seniors in the preparatory school, and, as such, were looked up to by those who had just started the course, or who were finishing their first year. In a way, Milton was like a small college in some matters, notably in class distinction, though it was not carried to the extent it is in the big universities.
"What are you fellows going to do?" asked Harry, as he pushed back his chair. "I'm feeling pretty fit now. I haven't an enemy in the world at this moment," and he sighed in satisfaction. "That rarebit was sure a bird! Are you fellows out for any fun?"
"Not to-night," replied Andy. "I'm going to cut back and write some letters."
"Forget it," advised Harry. "It's early, and too nice a night to go to bed. Let's take in a show."
"I've got some boning to do," returned Frank, with a sigh.
"And I ought to plug away at my Latin," added Chet, with another sigh.
"Say, but you fellows are the greasy grinds!" objected Harry. "Why don't you take a day off once in a while?"
"It's easy enough for you, Swipes; Latin comes natural to you!" exclaimed Tom. "But I have to plug away at it, and when I get through I know less than when I started."
"And as for me," broke in Chet, "I can read a page all right in the original, but when I come to translate I can make two pages of it in English, and have enough Latin words left over to do half another one. No, Swipes, it won't do; I've got to do some boning."
"Aw, forget it. Come on to a show. There's a good movie in town this week. I'll blow you fellows. Some vaudeville, too, take it from me. There's a pair who roll hoops until the stage looks like a barrel factory