"Now, Marty," Joe spoke genially, "don't you misunderstand. I said I had
a reason. I have. My folks have some money they want to put into a safe
place. And they like Cartwright. I do too, but--you know how it is. I
want to be sure. Anyhow I'm glad I asked these questions. You've given
me some highly important information; and, honestly, I'm grateful. You
surely don't think I'm small enough to be making fun of you, or of
Cartwright. If I seemed to be, I apologize on the spot. Believe me?" and
there was no mistaking his genuine earnestness.

"Of course I believe you, old man," Marty rejoined, just a wee bit
ashamed. "Forgive me too, but I've been reading up on that college thing
lately, and it's a little different from what most people think. So you
got me going."

"I'm glad he did," said J.W. "It makes me prouder than ever of
Cartwright College." And, as he got up he said, as though still at the
game, "The 'locomotive' now!" and gave Cartwright's favorite yell as a
solo, while Marty and Joe grinned approval and some students passing in
the street answered it with the "skyrocket."

* * * * *

There is material for a book, all mixt of interest varying from very
light comedy to unplumbed gloom, in the life of two boys at college--any
two; and some day the chronicles of the Delafield Duo may be written;
but not now.

Senior year, with its bright glory and its seriously borne
responsibilities. It found Marty a trifle less shy and reticent than
when he came to Cartwright, and J.W., Jr., a shade more studious. Marty