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 the janitor and the hired men of the houses. "It was a regular riot," he said weakly, and those dd cads, after getting us into it, ran away and left us." He turned on his side with his face to the wall, faint with nausea, and he abandoned himself to a sulky despair, refusing to reply to Don's half-hearted attempts to console him with the hope that the affair might be hushed up, and not even speaking when Don said, "I'm going to see the Dean as soon as I've had breakfast."

He had small hope of aiding his cousin, but what hope he had was increased by the Dean's attitude of mind. "I should be very sorry," he said frankly, "to see McLean expelled. I understand, as well as you do, that he has been led into these escapades by older boys than he. But I'm afraid the affair is not in my hands, since it is not a matter of house discipline, your cousin being no longer in Residence. The President already knows of the incident—it was impossible to conceal it—and he will, no doubt, act as he sees fit. I can promise you most willingly that I shall use my influence to have McLean treated leniently, and I should advise you to see the President yourself."

But the President—in his public office with his secretary—standing before his world as the head of the University, had no such paternal view to take of Conroy's offence. He listened to Don's stammering appeal with a stern face. "The Dean," he said curtly. "No! Such drunken vandalism is a disgrace to the University. I will recommend the expulsion of every student whom I can connect with it." And Don left his hope in that office when he went out.