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By afternoon Amory realized that now the newest
arrivals were taking him for an upper classman, and he tried
conscientiously to look both pleasantly blas? 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!"
A slim face with gray eyes and a humorous smile appeared in the doorway.
"Got a hammer?"
"No--sorry. Maybe Mrs. Twelve, or whatever she goes by, has one."
The stranger advanced into the room.
"You an inmate of this asylum?"
Amory nodded.
"Awful barn for the rent we pay."
Amory had to agree that it was.
"I thought of the campus," he said, "but they say there's so few freshmen
that they're lost. Have to sit around and study for something to do."
The gray-eyed man decided to introduce himself.


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