n't carry his suit-case up the hill this time; he checked it and
sent a freshman for it later. When he arrived at Surrey 19 Carl was
already there--and he was kneeling before a trunk when Hugh walked into
the room. Both of them instantly remembered the identical scene of the
year before.

Carl jumped to his feet. "Hullo--who are you?" he demanded, his face
beaming.

Hugh pretended to be frightened and shy. "I'm Hugh Carver. I--I guess
I'm going to room with you."

"You sure are!" yelled Carl, jumping over the trunk and landing on Hugh.
"God! I'm glad to see you. Put it there." They shook hands and stared at
each other with shining eyes.

Then they began to talk, interrupting each other, gesticulating,
occasionally slapping each other violently on the back or knee, shouting
with laughter as one of them told of a summer experience that struck
them as funny. They were both so glad to get back to college, so glad to
see each other, that they were almost hysterical. And when they left
Surrey 19 arm in arm on their way to the Nu Delta house "to see the
brothers," their cup of bliss was full to the brim and running over.

"Criminy, the ol' campus sure does look good," said Hugh ecstatically.
"Watch the frosh work." He was suddenly reminded of something. "Hey,
freshman!" he yelled at a big, red-faced youngster who was to be
full-back on the football team a year hence.

The freshman came on a run. "Yes--yes, sir?"

"Here's a check. Take it down to the station and get my suit-case. Take
it up to Surrey Nineteen and put it in the room. The door's open. Hurry
up now; I'm going to want it pretty soon."

"Yes, sir. I'll hurry." And the freshman was off running.

Hugh and Carl grinned at each other, linked arms again, and continued
their way across the campus. When they entered the Nu Delta house a
shout went up. "Hi, Carl! Hi, Hugh! Glad to see you back. Didya have a
good summer? Put it there, ol' kid"--and they shook hands, gripping each
other's forearm at the same time.

* * * * *

Hugh tried hard to become a typical sophomore and failed rather badly.
He retained much of the shyness and diffidence that gives the freshman
his charm, and he did not succeed very well in acquiring the swagger,
the cocky, patronizing manner, the raucous self-assurance that
characterize the true sophomore.

He found, too, that he couldn't lord it over the freshmen very well, and
at times he was nothing less t