of leisure according to the dingy-faced clock on the tower of College
Hall. So he left the tricycle by the steps, and putting his crutches
under his arms, swung himself into the building and down the corridor to
his study. The door was ajar and he thrust it open with his foot.

"Please be careful of the paint," expostulated a voice, and Sydney
paused in surprise.

"Well," he said; "I've just been over to your room looking for you."

"Have you? Sorry I wasn't--Say, Syd, listen to this." Neil dragged a
pillow into a more comfortable place and sat up. He had been stretched
at full length on the big window-seat. "Here it is in a nutshell," he
continued, waving the paper he was reading.

"'First a signal, then a thud,
And your face is in the mud.
Some one jumps upon your back,
And your ribs begin to crack.
Hear a whistle. "Down!" That's all.
'Tis the way to play football.'"

"Pretty good, eh? Hello, what's up? Your face looks as bright as though
you'd polished it. How dare you allow your countenance to express joy
when in another quarter of an hour I shall be struggling over my head in
the history of Rome during the second Punic War? But there, go ahead;
unbosom yourself. I can see you're bubbling over with delightful news.
Have they decided to abolish the Latin language? Or has the faculty been
kidnaped? Have they changed their minds and decided to take me with 'em
to New Haven to-morrow? Come, little Bright Eyes, out with it!"