“My dear Tom!” and William Philander looked aghast.  “You know well enough I never took that suit to a pawnbroker.”

“Well, maybe it was some other suit.  Possibly the black one with the blue stripes, or maybe it was the blue one with the black stripes.  Really, my dearest Philander, it is immaterial to me what suit it was.”  And Tom looked coldly indifferent as he buttered another slice of bread.

“But I tell you, I never went to any pawn-broker!” pleaded the dudish student.  “I would not be seen in any such horrid place!”

“Oh, pawnbrokers are not so bad,” came from Spud Jackson, as he helped himself to more potatoes.  “I knew of one fellow down in New Haven who used to loan thousands of dollars to the students at Yale.  He was considered a public benefactor.  When he died they closed up the college for three days and gave him a funeral over two miles long.  And after that, the students raised a fund of sixteen thousand dollars with which to erect a monument to his memory.  Now, that is absolutely true, and if you don’t believe it you can come to my room and I will show you some dried rose leaves which came from one of the wreathes used at the obsequies.”  And a general laugh went up over this extravagant statement.

“The same old Spud!” cried Sam, as he gave the story-teller of the college a nudge in the ribs.  “Spud, you are about as bad as Tom.”

“Chust vat I tinks,” came from Max Spangler, a German-American student who was still struggling with the difficulties of the language.  “Only I tinks bod of dem vas worser dan de udder.”  And at this rather mixed statement another laugh went up.

“I wish you fellows would stop your nonsense and talk baseball,” came from Bob Grimes, another student.  “Do you realize that if we expect to do anything this spring, we have got to get busy?”

“Well, Bob,” returned Sam, “I don’t see how that is going to interest me particularly.  I don’t expect to be on any nine this year.”

“I know, Sam, but Tom, here, has promised to play if he can possibly get the time.”

“And so I will play,” said Tom.  “That is, provided I remain at Brill.”

“What, do you mean to say you are going to leave!” cried several students.

“We can’t do without you, Tom,” added Songbird.

“Of course we can’t,” came from Bob Grimes.  “We need Tom the worst way this year.”

“Well, I’ll talk that over with you fellows some other time.  To-night we are in a hurry.”  And thus speaking, Tom tapped his brother on the shoulder, and both left the dining-room.

As my old readers know, the Rover boys possessed a very fine automobile.  This was kept in one of the new garages on the place, which was presided over by Abner Filbury, the son of the old man who had worked for years around the dormitories.

“Is she all ready, Ab?” questioned Tom, as the young man came forward to greet them.