LITMIR.BIZ

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minute later the big car started on the way to Oak Hall, with Dave at the wheel and his uncle beside him.

      “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” called out Roger, as they spun along the turnpike.

      “It certainly does!” answered Roger, and then he added, “What do you say to the old school song?”

      “Fine!” came back the answer, and then the senator’s son commenced a song they all knew well, which was sung to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne.” The girls knew the song, too, and readily joined in.

      “Oak Hall we never shall forget,

      No matter where we roam;

      It is the very best of schools,

      To us it’s just like home!

      Then give three cheers, and let them ring

      Throughout this world so wide,

      To let the people know that we

      Elect to here abide!”

      Loud and clear over the cool air sounded the song, and it was sung several times. Then, just as the car rolled into the grounds of the school, the boys gave one of the Hall yells, and Dave honked the horn of the automobile loud and long.

      “Hello! It’s the Porter crowd!”

      “Welcome to our city!”

      “How about Cave Island, Dave! Did you bring it with you?”

      “Heard you caught Jasniff and Merwell, Roger. Good for you!”

      “Say, Phil, you’re as sunburnt as if you’d been to the seashore for a summer.”

      So the talk ran on as half a dozen students flocked up to the car. The afternoon session was over, and despite the chilliness many lads were out on the campus. Many knew the girls – having met them at some athletic games and at a commencement – and those that did not were glad of a chance for an introduction.

      “I am real glad to see you back, boys,” said Doctor Hasmer Clay, the head of the institution, as he appeared and shook hands. “Glad to see you, Mr. Porter, and also the young ladies,” he added. “So you came all the way by automobile, eh? It must have been a delightful trip.”

      “It was,” answered Dave’s uncle.

      All went inside, and the visitors were permitted to accompany Dave and his chums to their dormitory. The boys’ baggage had already arrived, so it did not take the lads long to settle down.

      “And now we’ll have to start back,” said Dunston Porter, a little later. “Dave, take good care of yourself, and make a good record.”

      “I’ll do my best, Uncle Dunston.”

      “And don’t let that wild man get you,” added Jessie, as she took his hand and allowed him to hold her own, perhaps longer than was necessary.

      “And don’t forget to write,” put in his sister.

      “Oh, I’ll not forget that!” answered Dave, with a smile, both to his sister and to the girl whom he regarded so warmly.

      It was a trying moment – this parting – but it was soon over, and, with Dunston Porter at the wheel, and the girls and boys waving their hands, the touring car left the Oak Hall grounds, on its return journey to Crumville.

      “Well, here we are, as the pug dog said to the looking-glass, when he walked behind it to look for himself,” remarked Phil, dropping into a chair.

      “I suppose it will take us a few days to get settled down,” answered Dave, resting on the top of a table. “I don’t feel much like unpacking yet, do you?”

      “No, let us wait until to-night or to-morrow,” returned Roger, dropping on one of the beds. He was still thinking of how clear and deep Laura’s eyes had appeared when she had said good-by to him.

      “I really hope you will not be homesick,” said a girlish voice, and Bertram Vane, one of the students, appeared from the next room and sat down on a chair. “Homesickness is such an awfully cruel thing, don’t you know.”

      “No homesickness here, Polly,” answered Dave. “I guess we are just tired out, that’s all. We’ve done a lot of traveling since we left Oak Hall.”

      “So I understand. Wasn’t it dreadful that Jasniff and Merwell should prove such villains!” went on the girlish student. “Weren’t you really afraid to – er – to touch them?”

      “Not much!” cried Phil. “I am only sorry Merwell got away.”

      “But you got the diamonds, I heard?” put in Sam Day, who was another of the chums.

      “We did.”

      At that moment came musical sounds from another room near by – the sounds of somebody strumming on a guitar.

      “Hello, there’s Luke Watson!” cried Roger. “Hi, come in with that guitar and give us a tune, Luke!” he called out.

      “Thought I might cheer you up,” said Luke, appearing. “How would you like me to play ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ or something like that?”

      “Make it ‘Oh, Those Eyes So Tender!’” suggested Buster.

      “Or else that beautiful ditty called, ‘He Loved, But Had to Leave Her,’” suggested Shadow. “Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” he went on. “This is true, too, though you may not believe it. A young man went to call on his best girl and took a bouquet of flowers along. The bouquet was done up in several thicknesses of tissue paper. Some of his friends who were jokers got hold of that bouquet and fixed it up for him. He gave it to the girl, and when she took off the tissue paper what do you suppose she found? A bunch of celery and some soup greens! He was so fussed up he didn’t know what to say, and he got out in a hurry.”

      “Hurrah for the chaps who fixed up the bouquet!” cried Phil. “But start up, Luke. Something in which we can all join.”

      “But not too loud,” cautioned Roger. “Old Haskers might not like–”

      “Oh, hang old Haskers!” interrupted Phil. “He can’t–”

      “Sh-sh!” came from Dave, suddenly, and silence fell on the group of boys. All turned towards the doorway leading to the hall. There, on the threshold, stood the instructor just mentioned, Mr. Job Haskers.

      CHAPTER VI

      PHIL SHOWS HIS STUBBORNNESS

      Not one of the boys knew how to act or what to say. All wondered if Job Haskers had heard his name mentioned.

      If the ill-natured instructor had heard, he made no mention of it. He looked sharply about the apartment and waved his hand to Luke.

      “Watson, how many times have I told you that you make too much noise with your musical instruments?” he said, harshly. “You disturb the students who wish to study.”

      “I thought this was the recreation hour, Mr. Haskers,” answered the lad, who loved to play the guitar and banjo.

      “True, but I think we get altogether too much of your music,” growled the instructor. He turned to Dave, Roger, and Phil. “So you are back at last. It is high time, if you wish to go on with your regular classes.”

      “We told Doctor Clay that we would make up what we have missed, Mr. Haskers,” answered Dave, in a gentle tone, for he knew how easy it was to start a quarrel with the man before him. As Phil had once said, Job Haskers was always walking around “with a chip on his shoulder.”

      “And how soon will you make up the lessons in my class?” demanded the instructor.

      “I think I can do it inside of ten days or two weeks.”

      “That won’t suit me, Porter. You’ll have to do better. I’ll give each of you just a week – one week, understand? If you can’t make the lessons up in that time I’ll have to drop you to the next lower class.”

      “Oh,

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