ws," said Doc Macnooder shrilly, as master of ceremonies,
"we want to pull this off in fine shape. We're going to drive around
the Circle. And I want this orchestra to keep together. Whose legs are
those with the cannon-cracker socks?"

"Beekstein's," cried several voices from inside.

"Well, he's rotten. He gums the whole show. Now, get together,
fellows, will you?"

"We will!"

As they turned to enter the campus the voice of the master spoke,
clanging its inexorable note from the old Gym. Instantly a shout broke
out:

"Hang the old thing!"

"Drown it!"

"Down with the Gym bell!"

"Murder!"

"Oh, Melancholy!"

"Silence!" cried the bandmaster. "Give 'em The Gym Bell--all ready
below! La-da-da-dee!"

"Too high!"

"La-da-da-_dum_. Slow and melancholy. One, two, three!"

_When the shades of night are falling
Round our campus, green and fair,
All the drowsy sons of Lawrence
To their couches then repair.
Soon the slumber god has bound them
With his spell of magic power,
And he holds them thus enchanted
Till the early morning hour._

"Up legs and at 'em now, Rip her out--chorus!"

_Till awakened
By the clanging
And the banging
And the whanging
From the cupola o'erhanging,
Of that ancient Gym bell!_

Cheered by the new fifth-formers, who came laughing to the windows to
hail them, the stage went gloriously around the Circle and came to a
stop.

"Here we are back at the same old grind," said Butcher Stevens.

"Frightful, isn't it?" said Stover; and the rest made answer:

"Back at the grindstone!"

"Hard luck!"

"We're all slaves!"

"Nothing to eat!"

"Nothing to do!"

"Stuck in a mudhole!"

XI

At the Kennedy steps The Roman was waiting for him. Stover shook hands
or, rather, allowed The Roman to pump him, as was the custom.

"Why, dear me--dear me--this is actually Stover!" said The Roman.
"Well, well! How you have grown--shouldn't have known you. Had a
pleasant vacation? Yes? Glad to have you in the Kennedy. It's a good
House--good boys--manly, self-reliant, purposeful. You'll like 'em."

The Roman released Stover's hand, which had grown limp in the process,
and said with a twinkle to his quick little eyes:

"Don't put too much ginger into them, Stover."

This remark confirmed Stover's darkest suspicions.

"I'll scatter a little ginger around all right," he said under his
breath, as he climbed the stairs to his room. "He thinks he h