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 *panion for having been so pessimistic last evening. Tom grinned. "There's something wrong with that fellow," he answered. "He won't be here long. You mark my words, Clif. He's too easy!"

That first day was devoted principally to preparing for future labor. He and Tom visited several class rooms and listened to instructions and made notes. They bought books and stationery. They also visited Mr. Babcock, the Physical Director, in the gymnasium, which stood a few rods back of East Hall, and underwent tests. Since there were at least a dozen other fellows waiting, "Cocky" put them through expeditiously, handed each a small card bearing his name and a lot of figures and dismissed them. Then came dinner, followed by another visit to Middle where, in Room H, they listened while Mr. Waltman explained what a beautiful thing was the Science of Mathematics and how much pleasure could be derived from the study of it, if they would but realize it. "The Turk" also dwelt at some length on the results that might accrue to them if they didn't realize it! Tom, who had taken a dislike to the instructor since last evening, made sarcastic comments under his breath and caricatured "The Turk" on the back of a blue book. Finally, having obediently taken note of to-morrow's lesson, they were released. Going out, Clif glimpsed the wheel chair and its occupant rolling along the corridor toward East Hall. He had encountered them several times before during the day. Evidently, he concluded, the fellow was Third Class, too. He spoke to Tom about it.