“Hey, Penny!  Cut it out, old top!”

From somewhere down the corridor the anguished wail floated, followed an instant later by sounds counterfeiting the howling of an unhappy dog.  Threats and pleas mingled.

“Penny!  For the love of Mike!”

“Set your watch back, Penny!”

“Shut up, you idiot!  Study’s not over!”

“Call an officer, please!”

But Pennington Durkin was making too much noise on his instrument to hear the remonstrances at first, and it was not until some impatient neighbour sallied forth and pounded frantically at the portal of Number 13 that the wailing ceased.  Then,

“What is it?” asked Durkin mildly.

“It’s only ten minutes to nine, Penny.  Your clock’s fast again.  Shut up or we’ll kill you!”

“Oh!” said Penny surprisedly.  “Are you sure?  I set my watch—­”

“Oh, forget it!  You say that every night,” was the wearied response.  “How the dickens do you think anyone’s going to study with that noise going on?”

“I’m very sorry, really,” responded Penny, “If I’d known—­”

“You never do know, Penny!” The youth outside strode back to his room and slammed the door and quiet prevailed once more.  Amy smiled.

“Poor Penny,” he said.  “He suffers much in the cause of Art.  I refuse to study any more.  Close up shop, Clint, and let’s talk.  Now that you’ve been with us a whole day, what do you think of us?  Do you approve of this institution of learning, old man?”

“I think I’m going to like it,” replied Clint soberly.

“I do hope so,” murmured Amy anxiously.  “Still, any little changes you’d like made—­”

“Well, you asked me, didn’t you?” laughed Clint.  “Besides, how can I help but like it when I am honoured by being roomed with you?”

“Sarcasm!” hissed Amy.  “Time’s up!” He slammed his book shut, tossed it on a pile at his elbow, yawned and jumped from his chair.  “Let’s go visiting.  What do you say?  Come along and I’ll interdoodle you to some of our prominent criminals.  Find your cap and follow me.”

“I wish,” said Amy, as they clattered down the stairs in the wake of several other boys who had lingered no longer than they after nine o’clock had struck, “I wish you had made the Fifth Form, Clint.”

“So do I,” was the reply.  “I could have if they’d stretched a point.”

“Um; yes,” mused the other.  “Stretched a point.  Now that’s something I never could make out, Clint.”

“What!”

“Why, how you can stretch a point.  The dictionary describes a point as ‘that which has position but no magnitude.’  Seems to me it must be very difficult to get hold of a thing with no magnitude, and, of course, you’d have to get hold of it to stretch it, wouldn’t you?  Now, if you said stretch a line or stretch a circle—­”

“That’s what you’ll need if you don’t shut up,” laughed Clint.

“A circle?”