t he was
sorry he had been so harsh.

"Well, I don't blame you, Stanley," said Tom, frankly. "It was a
mighty poor joke. I don't see how I did it." And there the matter was
dropped.

It was ideal weather for outdoor sports and sometimes the lads would go
out for a game of baseball, or football, just as the whim seized them.
Of course the college had its regular teams on the diamond and the
gridiron, but the Rovers did not care enough for the sport to try for
these, even though they had made creditable records at Putnam Hall.

"Great news!" cried Tom, coming into the gymnasium one afternoon, after
playing with some of the students on the campus.

"What's that?" asked several, curiously.

"A couple of moving picture men from Chicago have leased Cameron's Hall
in Ashton and they are going to open a moving picture theater next
week. Won't that be fine? I love the movies, and now we'll be able to
go there whenever we want to."

CHAPTER VIII

THE JOKE ON WILLIAM PHILANDER

The news Tom had brought created much interest in Brill. In the past
anything in the shape of public amusement for the students had been
scarce. Once in a while a cheap theatrical company would stop at
Ashton and give a performance, but usually it was of such a poor order
that if the boys went they would poke fun at it.

"How do you know it will be any good, Tom?" asked Songbird.

"Oh, I'm not sure that it will be. But the druggist told me that the
men were well-known in the movies and had some first-class show-houses
elsewhere, so I'm hoping it will be all right."

"Is it going to be a five or ten-cent house?" asked another.

"Five in the afternoon and ten at night."

"Then I'm going to begin to save my pennies," announced Spud,
seriously. "I've got two saved already and if I am careful for the
next month or two I'll have enough to buy a ticket."

"That is, provided I'll lend you one cent," added Tom, and this caused
a general grin. He looked around and saw William Philander
approaching. "Hi, Tubblets!" he called out. "Here's a job for you."
And he waved his hand quickly for the dudish student to approach.

"Now, no more jokes, Tom Rover," was the warning of the
stylishly-dressed one. "No more jokes."

"Jokes?" repeated Tom. "This is a job--a splendid situation--open to
just such a handsome, well-proportioned young gentleman like yourself."

"What--ah--do you want?" asked William Philander, curiously.

"Wouldn't y