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"I am here," agreed the other, "to announce to the universe that you are right,

Jimmy. He didn't have anything pleasant to say to me. In fact, he insinuated that

dear old alma mater might be able to wiggle along without me if I didn't abjure my

criminal life. Made some nasty comparison between my academic achievements

and foxtrotting. I wonder, Jimmy, how they get that way?"

That's why they are profs," explained Jimmy. "There are two kinds of people in

this world--human beings and profs. When does he want me?"

"Now."

Jimmy arose and put on his hat and coat. "Good-by, Kid," he said. "Pray for me,

and leave me one cigarette to smoke when I get back," and, grinning, he left the

room.

James Torrance, Jr., was not greatly abashed as he faced the dour tribunal of the

faculty. The younger members, among whom were several he knew to be mighty

good fellows at heart, sat at the lower end of the long table, and with owlish

gravity attempted to emulate the appearance and manners of their seniors. At the

head of the table sat Whiskers, as the dignified and venerable president of the

university was popularly named. It was generally believed and solemnly sworn to

throughout the large corps of undergraduates that within the knowledge of any

living man Whiskers had never been known to smile, and to-day he was running

true to form.

"Mr. Torrance," he said, sighing, "it has been my painful duty on more than one

occasion to call your attention to the uniformly low average of your academic

standing. At the earnest solicitation of the faculty members of the athletic

committee, I have been influenced, against my better judgment, to temporize with

an utterly insufferable condition.

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