“That’s not for us to say,” laughed Will.

“I haven’t joined any fraternity yet,” said Peter John.  “My father told me I’d better wait and perhaps he’d come up to Winthrop a little later and then he’d tell me which one to join.”

Will and Foster glanced at each other, but neither spoke.  In fact there was nothing to say.

“If you feel sure the Phi Alpha’s the best, I might write home to my father and perhaps he’d let me join now,” suggested Peter John.  “He thinks that whatever you two fellows do is about right.”

As only about half the students in Winthrop were members of the Greek letter fraternities, and as those who were elected were chosen because of certain elements in their characters or lives that made them specially desirable as companions or comrades, the election was naturally looked upon as an especial honor and many of the entering class had been eagerly awaiting the invitation for which all longed.  Peter John Schenck’s unique personality and his sublime self-assurance had been qualities, if no other defects had been apparent, that would have debarred him, but he was so sublimely unconscious of all this—­“Not even knowing enough to know that he didn’t know, the worst form of ignorance in all the world,” Foster had half angrily declared—­that not for a moment did he dream that his membership was something perhaps undesirable of itself.

“I might write home and ask him,” suggested Peter John when neither of his classmates responded.  “I think I like the Phi Alpha pretty well myself.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” said Foster.  “How are you making out with Splinter?” he added, striving to change the subject.

“Oh, Splinter’s all right.”

“Glad you think so,” said Will bitterly.

“Some of the fellows think he’s hard, but he’s all right if you know how to handle him,” declared Peter John pompously.  “I’ll put down a good mark for him.”

“Good for you, Peter John!” laughed Foster.  “Wait till he puts down your mark.”

“I’ll get an ‘A’ in Greek.”

“I hope you’ll give me a part of it then,” said Will.  “Did you ever see such a fellow?” he said to Foster when their visitor had departed.

“I never did.  I don’t mind him myself, but for his own sake I wish he could learn something.  I don’t believe he’ll ever do it though.”

“I’m afraid he’ll be taught some things that are not in the course of study.”

“Do him good,” remarked Foster, as he turned once more to his work.

The following day was Saturday, and in the afternoon there were no recitations.  Will had promised Mott that he would go for a long walk with him, and promptly after luncheon the sophomore appeared.  For some reason which Will could not explain, Mott appeared to have taken a decided fancy to him, and had paid him many special attentions.  There was little about him that was attractive to Will, but somehow he found it difficult to avoid him.  He certainly