All the boys joined in the laugh with which Hawley related the story, and Will Phelps said, “Where did Pat go?”

“Well,” said Hawley slowly, “he has gone to White College.”

“Do you mean to say he has entered there?” demanded Will.

“That’s what they tell me, though I’ve a notion he’ll come out the same door he went in, and he won’t tarry long either.  Probably soon after the season ends.”

“But we play White College.  It’s one of our nearest rivals,” suggested Will.  “But then,” he added, “that’s just like them.  They never do a thing on the square anyway!”

Hawley pursed his lips as if he was about to whistle, but he did not speak though his eyes twinkled with merriment as if Will’s statement somehow was hugely enjoyed by him.  Foster Bennett noticing the expression on Hawley’s face, also laughed, but he did not reply to his room-mate’s very positive declaration.  There were some things which Will could not understand, for with his intense and impulsive disposition the one thing which impressed him at the time was capable of only one interpretation.  His confidence in Winthrop and his dislike of its rival college were therefore only what were to be expected of his friend.

“Obliged to you, fellows,” said Hawley, as Will Phelps and Foster Bennett rose to depart.  “Come in and see us often.”

“You’ll see enough of us from now on,” responded Will as he and his room-mate departed.

As the two passed out into the street and returned to their own room Foster said, “It’s pretty bare there in Leland, isn’t it, Will?”

“Yes.  They both seem to be happy though.”

“Not much like our room.”

“No.  But then, Foster, you see they don’t know the difference.”

Foster smiled but made no response, and Will continued.  “You see everything in this world is relative.  A man doesn’t miss what he never had, does he?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Now look here, Foster.  Do you think a blind man suffers because he can’t see?  I mean a man who was born blind, of course.”

“What then?”

“Why, the man I’m sorry for is the one that could see once and has lost his sight.  He knows, let me tell you, what he’s lost.  But the other man doesn’t appreciate it.  He never could see, so he couldn’t lose his sight, could he?  Tell me that.”

“So you wouldn’t do anything to help him?”

“I didn’t say that.  I didn’t say that at all.  All I say is that the fellow I’m sorry for is the one who has had and lost, not the one who never had.  Now look at Peter John, and Hawley.  Their room isn’t so good as ours, but it probably is just as good as they expected, or have been used to, so they don’t suffer any.”

“And if you and I had to put up with their room—­”

“Why, we’d feel it.”

“It’s a mighty comfortable way of looking at things, that’s all I have to say.”