"You know well enough that I am not given to boasting about myself,
professor, and so you are wasting your breath," said Frank, rather
resentfully.

"Hum! ha! Don't fly off the handle--keep cool. I know you have sand, and
you're made of the right kind of stuff; but you are the greatest hand to
get into scrapes I ever saw, and a little advice won't do you any harm.
You will find that in many things you cannot do just as you would like,
so you must--"

"I'll get into the game all right, so don't worry. You will remember
that I did fairly well at Fardale, and you should not worry about me
while I am here."

"I will not. You did well at Fardale--that's right. You were the most
popular boy in the academy; but you will find Yale is far different from
Fardale."

So the professor took his departure, and Frank was left to begin life at
college.

His roommate was a rollicking, headstrong, thoughtless young fellow from
Ohio. Harry Rattleton was his name, and it seemed to fit him perfectly.
He had a way of speaking rapidly and heedlessly and turning his
expressions end for end.

Frank had been able to assist Harry at examination. Harry and Frank
were seated close to each other, and when it was all over and the two
boys knew they had passed all right, Harry came to Frank, held out his
hand, and said: