e school song as he
strode along. Joel turned into the library, feeling well satisfied with
the result of his meddling, to pore over a reference book until
supper time.

The following morning Joel awoke to find a cold rain falling from a
dull sky. The elms in the yard were dripping from every leaf and branch,
and the walks held little gray pools that made the trip to breakfast a
series of splashes. In the afternoon Joel got into his oldest clothes
and tramped over to Hampton House. The window of West's room looked
bright and cheerful, for a big wood fire was blazing on the hearth
within. Joel kicked the mud from his shoes, and passing through the
great white door with its old-fashioned fanlight above, tapped at West's
room. A faint response from beyond the portal summoned him in.

The owner of the room was sandpapering a golf shaft before the fire, and
a deep expression of discontent was on his face. But his countenance
lighted up at sight of his visitor, and he leaped to his feet and drew a
second armchair before the hearth.

"You're a brick, March! I was just wishing you roomed near enough so
that I could ask you to come over and talk a bit. Isn't it a
horrible day?"

"It's awfully wet; but then it has to rain sometimes, I suppose,"
answered Joel as he took off his overcoat.

"Yes, but it doesn't have to rain just when a fellow has fixed to
practice golf, does it?" West growled. Joel laughed.

"I thought the real, simon-pure golfer didn't mind the weather."

"He doesn't as long as he can get over the ground, but the links here is
like a quagmire when it rains. But never mind, we'll have a good chummy
afternoon. And I've got some bully gingersnaps. Do you like
gingersnaps?" Joel replied in the affirmative, and West produced a box
of them from under the bed.

"I have to keep these kinds of things hid, you know, because Blair and
Cooke and the rest of the fellows would eat them all up. By the way, I
made up a list of the things you'll have to get if you're going in for
golf. Here it is. Of course, I only put down one of each, and only a
dozen balls. I'll get the catalogue and we'll reckon up and see how much
they come to."

"But I don't think I can afford to buy anything like this, West,"
answered Joel doubtfully.

"Nonsense! you've got to! A fellow has to have _necessities_! What's the
first thing on the list? Read 'em off, will you?"

"Driving cleek," read Joel.

"Yes, but never mind the clubs. There ar