"
"All right." Will Phelps had promised readily, and then the matter
departed from his mind as he rushed about among his classmates.
That evening he suddenly glanced up from the book he was studying and
said to his room-mate: "Foster, I agreed to go over to Peter John's room
to-night. Want to go?"
"Can't say that I'm pining for it. What does he want?"
"I don't know. He seemed to be very much in earnest about it, though."
"Is it much nearer from here to his room than it is from his room to
ours? If he wanted to see you so much, why didn't he come over here?"
"That isn't Peter John's way," laughed Will. "I promised to go, so I
think I'll run over for a minute. I'll be back pretty soon."
"If you need me let me know," called Foster as Will departed, and he
then at once resumed his task.
Will Phelps ran across the campus to Leland Hall, and as he turned in at
the dimly lighted hall the contrast between his own surroundings and
those in which he now found himself was for the moment almost painful.
The stone step at the entrance had been worn away by the passing of
boyish feet over it for more than a century.
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