“Sam has it,” answered Tom.  “And it wasn’t broken, either,” he added with pride.

“But—­ah—­why did he—­ah—­run away with it?” queried Tubbs innocently.

“To stop the slaughter of the innocents,” answered Dick.  “He’ll give it back to you later.  But don’t try to carry it again,” went on Dick in a low voice.

“Just look at me!” moaned William Philander as he gazed at the wreck of his outfit.  “Look at this tie—­and it cost me a dollar and seventy-five cents!”

“Be thankful you weren’t killed,” answered a sophomore.  “Don’t you know better than to carry a cane.”

“I—­ah—­fancy I’ll carry a cane if I wish,” answered Tubbs with great dignity.

“Not around Brill,” answered several.

“And—­ah—­why not?”

“Because you’re a freshie, that’s why.  You can wear the colors—­because of the necktie rush—­but you can’t carry a cane.”

“Oh—­ah—­so that’s it!” cried William Philander, a light breaking in on him.  “But why didn’t you come up politely and tell me so, instead of rushing at me like a—­ah—­like mad bulls?  It was very rude, don’t you know.”

“Next time we’ll send you a scented note by special liveried messenger,” said one of the second-year students in disgust.

“We’ll have it on engraved paper, too,” added another.

“Thank you.  That will be—­ah—­better,” replied William Philander calmly.  “But look at my suit,” he continued, and gave a groan.  “I can’t—­ah—­make any afternoon calls to-day, and I was going to a pink tea—­”

“Wow!  A pink tea, boys!” yelled one of the boys.  “Wouldn’t that rattle your back teeth?”

“Never mind, Tubby.  The cook will give you a cup of coffee instead,” said Tom.

“I should think you’d feel blue instead of pink,” added Spud Jackson.

“Sew up the coat with a shoestring, and let it go at that,” suggested Max.

“If you want to paste that collar fast again I’ve got a bottle of glue,” said Songbird.

“Now—­ah—­don’t you poke fun at me!” stormed William Philander.  “Haven’t I suffered enough already?”

“Why, we’re not poking fun; we’re weeping,” said Tom, and pretended to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief.

“I am so sorry I could eat real doughnuts,” said Dick.

“Maybe you want to send a substitute to that pink tea,” came from Stanley.  “You might call on Professor Sharp.”

“Or Pinkey, the watchman,” said Max.  “He’ll do it for a quarter, maybe.”

“I—­ah—­don’t want any substitute,” growled William Philander.  “I—­ah—­think you are—­ah—­very rude, all of you.  I am going back to my room, that is what I am going to do.”

At this Tom began to sing softly: 

  “Don’t be angry, William, darling! 
  Wipe the raindrops from your eyes. 
  All your sorrows will be passing
  When you’re eating Christmas pies!”

“You stop that—­you mean thing!” burst out the dude, and then turning, he almost ran for the dormitory, the laughter of the students ringing out loudly after him.