ing, we're coming, our brave little band,
On the right side of temperance we always do stand;
We don't use tobacco, for this we do think,
That those who do use it most always do drink."

Some of the singers had very musical voices and the simple little ditty
sounded very clear and strong as they all joined in it. Will Phelps,
however, was thinking of what it was that would be required of him. Then
flashed into his mind the last conversation he had had with his mother
and in which he had given her a promise not unlike that at which Mott
had hinted. And he intended to keep it too, he assured himself. Come
what might, he would not break it. He even smiled slightly as he
thought of what his mother's feelings would be if she could look into
Peter John's room and see what was then going on there.

As the song ceased abruptly Will said, "What is it you want me to do,
Mott?"

"Well, now, freshman, that's cool. You can't help being a freshman, but
it's not well even for a freshman to be too fresh. Ever hear the like of
that, fellows?" he inquired of his classmates.

"Never did. Never did," responded several, shaking their heads soberly.

"Just think of it," began Mott again. "Here's a freshman who is so
anxious to get into our good graces that he's not only willing to do
what we tell him but he even comes and asks us what it is we want him to
do. That beats anything old Winthrop has ever seen yet."

Will's face flushed, but he was silent, though Hawley began to laugh
again. "Now, then, freshman," said Mott, pointing his finger at Will,
"we want you to get down on the floor and wrestle with temptation."

"There's nothing here that tempts me very much," replied Will coolly,
and Hawley promptly laughed aloud.

"You do as I tell you! Get down on the floor and wrestle with
temptation," demanded Mott sharply.

"I don't mind doing it if it will please you any," responded Will as he
slipped from his seat on the table to the floor.

"That's the way. Now then, papa's joy and mamma's pet, show us how it
is that you do the trick."

Stretched upon the floor, Will Phelps went through his struggle with an
imaginary foe. He twisted and writhed and struggled, shrieks of laughter
greeting his efforts from the assembled sophomores, and even Hawley
joined in, so ridiculous was the appearance which Will presented.

"That's very good, very good indeed!" remarked Mott when several minutes
had elapsed. "You'd better get up now