“For the love of Mike, Amy, shut up!” begged Marvin.

“Oh? very well!  If you want the poor idiot to go through life with no knowledge of the important—­er—­”

“We do!” agreed Innes.

“Of course I know who Detweiler is,” said Gilbert, a trifle indignantly.  “But there might be more than one, mightn’t there?  How did I know—­”

“More than one Detweiler!” exclaimed Amy horrifiedly.  “Is there more than one Washington?  More than one Napoleon?  More than one Huxley?  More than one Thackeray?  More than one—­one Byrd?”

“You bet there are!” asserted Black.  “There are jays and parrots!”

“Amy, you’re a crazy nut,” laughed Innes.

“A nut I may be,” replied Amy with dignity, “but I have raisins.”

There was an excruciating howl of agony and Amy was violently set upon, deposited on the nearer bed and pummelled until he begged for mercy.  When quiet was restored Edwards asked:  “Is ‘Boots’ coming back this year, Jack?”

“Yes, he’ll be here in a day or two, I think.  Robey had a letter from him last week.”

“Thought someone said he wasn’t coming back,” observed Still.

“He said in the Spring he didn’t think he could,” explained Jack, “but you couldn’t keep him away if you tried, I guess.  You second team fellows will know what hustling means when he takes hold of you, Thayer.”

Clint smiled and looked politely interested, but the subject was not continued, for at that moment, Amy, who had been craftily biding his time, reached out and pulled Still’s chair over, and in the ensuing confusion the gathering broke up.  On the way along the Row, Clint asked Amy about the mysterious “Boots.”

“His name is Boutelle,” explained Amy.  “We call him ‘Boots’ for short; a sort of a last name.”  Amy chuckled gleefully.

“What’s the joke?” asked Clint.

“Didn’t you get it? Last name; see?  ’Boots’—­last!”

“Oh!”

“Thank you!  I was afraid I’d have to explain it for you in a foot-note.”

“What’s he do?  Coach the second?”

“He do.  And he’s a mighty nice chap, ‘Boots’ is.  The fellows were quite crazy about him last year.  He did good work, too.  Turned out a second that was some team, believe me!  Maybe if ‘Boots’ gets hold of you, Clint, you may amount to something.  I’ve done what I could for you, but I think you’ve got where you need a firmer hand.”

“You’re getting where you need a firm foot,” laughed Clint.  “And I’m the one to apply it!”

“Tut, tut!” murmured the other.  “Never start anything, Clint, you can’t finish.  Right wheel, march!  Oh, dear, Penny is at it again!  And I had hoped for a quiet evening!”