"Beautiful evening for a drive, is it not?" asked one.

"I trust you had not planned to attend the freshman dinner to-night?"
asked another. "For I fear we shall be late in reaching home."

"You are quite comfortable? Is there any particular road you would like
to drive? any part of our lovely suburbs you care to visit?"

"Surly brute!" growled a fourth, who was Cowan. "Let's make him speak,
eh? Let's twist his arm a bit."

"You sit still or I'll punch your thick head," said the first speaker
coldly. "What I dislike about you, Cowan, is that you are never able to
forget that you're a mucker. I wish you'd try," he continued wearily,
"it's so monotonous."

Cowan was silent an instant; then laughed uncertainly.

"I suppose you fancy you're a wit, Baker," he said, "but I think you're
mighty tiresome."

"Don't let it trouble you," was the calm reply. Some one laughed
drowsily. Then there was silence save for the sound of the horses' feet,
the complaining of the well-worn hack and the occasional voice of the
driver outside on the box. Neil began to feel rather drowsy himself; the
motion was lulling, and now that they had crossed the railroad-track and
reached the turnpike along the river, the carriage traveled smoothly. It
was black night outside now, and through the nearest window at which the
curtain had been lowered Neil could see nothing save an occasional
light in some house. He didn't know where he was being taken, and didn't