“Wish I had a flying machine,” said the student, wistfully.

“Better swap the boat for one,” suggested Sam.

“No, I think rowing is safer.  Some day, if you are not careful, you’ll get an awful tumble from that machine.”

“We try to be as careful as possible,” answered Dick.  “Seriously, though, Stanley, I don’t care for flying as much as I thought I would.”

“Is that so?  Now, I thought you were planning a honeymoon trip by aeroplane.  Think of the novelty of it!”

“No, a steamboat or a parlor car will be good enough for me, when I go on a honeymoon trip,” answered Dick, and for a very good reason he blushed deeply.

“Hello, William Philander Tubbs!” cried Tom, as a tall, dudish-looking student crossed the college campus.  “What’s the price of eggs this morning?”

“What is that, Tom?” questioned the stylishly-dressed youth, as he turned in the direction of the others.

“I asked what was the price of eggs?” said Tom, innocently.

“The—­ er—­ the price of eggs?  How should I know?” stammered William Philander Tubbs” in astonishment.

“Weren’t you in the chicken business once?”

“Gracious me!  No, Tom, no!”

“Funny I made the mistake—­ and I want to know the price of eggs the worst way,” went on the fun-loving Rover, innocently.

“What do you want to know the price of eggs for?” questioned William Philander, curiously.

“Why, you see, we’ve got a new problem in geometry to solve, and the price of eggs will help out,” continued Tom, looking very serious.

“What is it, Tom?”

“It’s this, Tubby, my boy.  If the diameter of an egg ten degrees west of its North Pole is two and eleven-tenths inches, what is the value of the shell unfilled?  I thought you might help me out on that.”

“Tom, you are poking fun at me!” cried the dudish student, as a snicker went up from the other youths.  “And please don’t call me Tubby, I beg of you,” pleaded William Philander.

“All right, Billy Gander,” murmured Tom.  “It shan’t occur again.”

“Billy Gander!  That is worse than Tubby!” groaned the dudish youth.  “Oh, you are awful!” he added, and strode off, trying to look very indignant.

“Poor Tubbs, I wonder if he will ever be sensible and get over his dudish ways,” was Dick’s comment.

“I doubt it—­ for it seems to be born in him,” returned Sam.

“But he’s a good sort with it all,” ventured Stanley Browne.

“First-rate,” agreed Tom.  “But I—­ well, I simply can’t help poking fun at him when he’s around, he’s such a dandy, and so lordly in his manner.”

“Here comes Songbird!” interrupted Sam.  “And, see, he is writing verses, as usual.  I wonder——­”

“Look!” exclaimed Dick.  “Oh!  There’s a collision for you!”

William Philander Tubbs had started across the campus with his head high in the air.  He was looking to one side and did not notice the approach of another student, who was coming forward thoughtfully, carrying a pad in one hand and writing as he walked.  There was a sudden meeting of the pair, and the pad fell to the ground and with it the fancy headgear the dudish student was wearing.