“Two minutes past, eh?” The boy below set his timepiece and slipped it back under his belt.  “It must be great to have a watch like yours.  I used to have one but I left it at the rink last Winter and it fell into the snow, I guess, and I never did find it.  Then I bought me this.  It’s guaranteed for a year.”

“Why don’t you take it back, then?”

“Oh, I’ve got sort of used to it now.  After all, there’s a certain excitement about having a watch like this.  You never know whether you’re going to be late or early.  If I have to catch a train I always allow thirty minutes leeway.  It’s twelve o’clock, all right.  Solomon’s quit.”  He nodded toward where the man in the blue overalls was unhitching the horse from the mower.  “You can’t fool Solomon on the dinner hour.”

“Is that his name?” inquired Clint.

“I don’t suppose so.  That’s what he’s called, though.  He never says anything and so he seems to be all-fired wise.  There’s a lot in that, do you know?  Bet you if I didn’t talk so much I’d get the reputation of being real brainy.  Guess I’ll have to try it.”  He grinned broadly and Clint smiled back in sympathy.

“Let’s tell our names,” said the other.  “Mine’s Byrd; first name, Amory; nicknamed Amy.  Pretty bad, but it might be worse.”

“Mine’s Clinton Thayer.”

“Thayer?  We’ve got some cousins of that name.  They’re Northerners, though.  Live in New Hampshire.  No relation to you, I guess.  I suppose fellows call you Clint, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“All right, Clint, let’s mosey back and have some dinner.  I had a remarkably early repast this morning and feel as though I could trifle with some real food.”

“So do I,” replied Clint as he climbed down.  “I had my breakfast at half-past six.”

“Great Scott!  What for?”

“The train got in at six and there was nothing else to do.  I got here before nine.”

“You did?  I thought I was one of the early Byrds—­Joke!  Get it?—­but I didn’t sight the Dear Old School until after ten.  Couldn’t find any fellows I knew and so went for a walk.  Most of the fellows don’t get here until afternoon.  By the way, who do you room with?”

“I don’t know,” replied Clint.  “I didn’t ask.  They put me—­”

“I don’t know either,” sighed Amy.  “I found a lot of truck in my room, but I haven’t seen the owner yet.  The fellow who was in with me last year has left school.  Gone to live in China.  Wish I could!  I suppose the fellow I draw will be a regular mutt.”  They had reached the corner of Wendell, and Amy paused.  “The dining room’s in here.  If you don’t mind waiting until I run up and wash a bit we’ll eat together.”

“I’d like to,” answered Clint, “but I reckon I’ll wash too.”

He moved along with the other toward the next dormitory.

“Aren’t you in Wendell?” asked Amy.

“No, this next one.  Torrey, isn’t it?”