so that the other
could catch the movement of his lips. "Drink some more--make you talk."
Vandover was cutting the string around a pasteboard box that had just
come from his tailor's; it was a new suit of clothes, rough cheviot,
brown with small checks. He dressed slowly and tipped forward the
swinging mirror of the bureau to see how the trousers set. Meanwhile
Ellis and the Dummy had got out the cards and chips from the drawer of
the centre-table and had begun a game.

"Better change your mind, Van," said Ellis without raising his eyes from
the cards.

"No, sir," answered Van. "You don't know how it is--you never were a
college man. Why, I wouldn't miss a football game for anything. Talk
about your horse-racing, talk about your baseball--I tell you there's
nothing in the world so exciting as a hot football game." He swung into
his long high-coloured waterproof and stood behind Ellis, watching his
game for a moment while he tied a couple of long silk streamers to his
umbrella handle.

"It's one of the college colours," he explained. "Seems like old times
back at Harvard." Ellis snorted with contempt.

"Such kids!" he growled.

"I saw one of the coaches go down the street a little while ago,"
continued Vandover, still watching Ellis shuffle and deal. "There were
about twenty college men on top, and they had a big bulldog all
harnessed out in their colours, and they were blowing fish-horns, and I
tell you it made me wish I was one of them again." Ellis did not answer;
it was probable he did not hear. Both he and the Dummy were settling
down for a game that no doubt would last all the afternoon. Vandover
made them free of his room, and they often gambled there when he was
away. But it invariably made Ellis nervous to have any one stand behind
his chair while he was playing; he began to move about uneasily. By and
by he looked at his watch. "Better get a move on," he said, "you'll be
late."

"Just a minute," answered Vandover, more and more interested in the
game. "Go on playing; don't bother about me. Oh, I saw Charlie Geary,
too," he continued, "on another coach; there was a party of them.
Charlie was with Turner Ravis on the box seat. You remember Turner
Ravis, don't you, Bandy? The girl I used to go with."

"There's a girl I never liked," observed Ellis. "She always struck me as
being one of these regular snobs."

"Ah, snob is no name for it," assented Vandover. "She thought she was
too damned high-toned for