do with this bag?" Steve laid the suit-case
in question on his bed and threw open the lid. "The pajamas look clean,
anyway," he continued as he viewed them. "I suppose I'll have to wear
them." He drew the cap out and set it on his head. "Wonder what the B
stands for, Tom."

"What bee?" asked Tom lazily.

"The B on this cap," replied the other, studying it.

Tom suddenly sat up on the bed. "Why, Brimfield, of course!" he
exclaimed in triumph. "There now! Was I right or wasn't I?"

"Shucks! It might stand for anything: Brown, Brooklyn, beans,
brownbread, basketball----"

"Yes, and Brimfield! And aren't the Brimfield colours maroon-and-grey,
and isn't that cap grey, and isn't that B maroon?"

"It's red."

"So is maroon, a brownish-red." Tom had deserted his bed and was turning
the cap about eagerly. "This belongs to some fellow here who has won
his letter, Steve," he said with deep conviction.

"Some fellow who has _lost_ his letter, you mean," replied Steve with a
laugh. "All right; it will save me from buying a cap when I make the
football team. How does it look on me?"

"It's too big," said Tom. "It's about a seven, I guess. That's what that
fellow would wear, I think." Tom frowned thoughtfully. "Are there any
more clues?" he asked, dropping the cap and seizing the pajamas
excitedly.

"Sure! There are brushes in the case and they mean that the fellow has
hair on his head, Tom. So there's no use looking for a bald-headed man,
eh? That's what they call 'the process of elimination,' isn't it? Say,
what are you trying to do with those things? Ruin them? Please remember
that I've got to wear them to-night."

"Looking for laundry marks," replied Tom. "But there aren't any. I guess
they're new ones." He dropped the pajamas regretfully and turned his
attention to the other objects in the bag. "A magazine," he muttered.

"'Fine'!--as Horace would say. The man can read. Therefore he is not
blind. Elimination again! At this rate we'll know all about him in a
minute, Tom. Gee, but you're a wise guy. Have a look at the collar and
tell me the fellow's name. Go on!"

"It begins with an M, anyway," muttered Tom, studying the object in
question.

"Ha!" exclaimed Steve melodramatically. "The net is closing! He has hair
on his head, is not blind, wears purple pajamas and spells his name with
an M! The rest is easy, Tom. Put your hat on and we'll go out and get
him."

"Oh, shut up, you silly goat!" Tom had the magazine