demands of each moment quite like his usual agreeable self--a
sleep-walking state. It was only when the hair incident was reached
that his conduct had noticeably crossed the line. He listened to all
this with interest intense.

"John does owe me ten, I think," said he.

"I say so," declared Bertie. "When do you begin to remember again?"

"After I got in again at the gate. Why did I get out?"

"You fell out, man."

Billy was incredulous.

"You did. You tore your clothes wide open."

Billy, looking at his trousers, did not see it.

"Rise, and I'll show you," said Bertie.

"Goodness gracious!" said Billy.

Thus discoursing, they reached Harvard Square. Not your Harvard Square,
gentle reader, that place populous with careless youths and careful
maidens and reticent persons with books, but one of sleeping windows and
clear, cool air and few sounds; a Harvard Square of emptiness and
conspicuous sparrows and milk wagons and early street-car conductors in
long coats going to their breakfast; and over all this the sweetness of
the arching elms.