place to surprise, surprise to resentment on the boy's countenance.

"Hello!" he challenged.

Kenneth laid the book face down on his knee and smiled politely.

"How do you do?" he responded.

The newcomer dragged a big valise into the room and closed the door behind
him, never for an instant taking his gaze off Kenneth. Then, apparently
concluding that the figure in the armchair was real flesh and blood and not
a creature of the imagination, he tossed his cap to the table, revealing a
rumpled mass of golden yellow hair, and looked belligerently at the
intruder.

"Say, you've got the wrong room, I guess," he announced.

"Here's where they put me," answered Kenneth gravely.

"Well, you can't stay here," was the inhospitable response. "This is my
room."

Kenneth merely looked respectfully interested. Joe Brewster slid out of his
ulster, frowning angrily.

"You're a new boy, aren't you!" he demanded.

"About an hour and a half old," said Kenneth. Somehow the reply seemed to
annoy Joe. He clenched his hands and stepped toward the other truculently.