"Why--yes."

"Bacon bun?"

"Why--yes."

He munched four of these, finding them of pleasing savor, and then
consumed another double-chocolate jigger before ease descended upon him.
After a cursory inspection of the pillow-cases, leather pennants, and
Gibson Girls that lined the walls, he left, and continued along Nassau
Street with his hands in his pockets. Gradually he was learning to
distinguish between upper classmen and entering men, even though the
freshman cap would not appear until the following Monday. Those who were
too obviously, too nervously at home were freshmen, for as each train
brought a new contingent it was immediately absorbed into the hatless,
white-shod, book-laden throng, whose function seemed to be to drift
endlessly up and down the street, emitting great clouds of smoke from
brand-new pipes. By afternoon Amory realized that now the newest
arrivals were taking him for an upper classman, and he tried
conscientiously to look both pleasantly blasé and casually critical,
which was as near as he could analyze the prevalent facial expression.

At five o'clock he felt the need of hearing his own voice, so he
retreated to his house to see if any one else had arrived. Having
climbed the rickety stairs he scrutinized his room resignedly, concluding
that it was hopeless to attempt any more inspired decoration than class
banners and tiger pictures. There was a tap at the door.

"Come in!"