"I hope not," he said in a silky voice, "I sincerely hope not, Garwood--for
your sake!"

He started up the stairs and Kenneth followed, smiling wickedly. He hadn't
made a very good beginning, he told himself, but Mr. Whipple irritated him
intensely. After the instructor had closed the door softly and taken his
departure, Kenneth sat down in an easy-chair and indulged in regrets.

"I wish I hadn't been so fresh," he muttered ruefully. "It doesn't do a
fellow any good to get the teachers down on him. Not that I'm scared of
that old boy, though! Dr. Randall isn't so bad, but if the rest of the
teachers are like Whipple I don't want to stay. Well, dad said I needn't
stay after this term if I don't like it. Guess I can stand three months,
even of Whipple! I hope Brewster isn't quite as bad. Maybe, though, they'll
give me another room if I kick. Don't see why I can't have a room by
myself, anyhow. I guess I'll get dad to write and ask for it. Only maybe a
chap in moderate circumstances like me isn't supposed to have a room all to
himself."

He chuckled softly and looked about him.

Number 12 consisted of a small study and a good-sized sleeping room opening
off. The study was well furnished, even if the carpet was worn bare in
spots and the green-topped table was a mass of ink blots. There were two
comfortable armchairs and two straight-backed chairs, the aforementioned
table, two bookcases, one on each side of the window, a wicker wastebasket
and two or three pictures. Also there was an inviting window seat heaped
with faded cushions. On the whole, Kenneth decided, the study, seen in the
soft radiance of the droplight, had a nice "homey" look. He crossed over
and examined the bedroom, drawing aside the faded brown chenille curtain to