sight of some two-score Sophs ranged around the room. By
the same flash lie saw that the thing that had hit him as he
entered was the dust box, which had been carefully poised
over the doorway. Then followed a confused jumble of
events, in which he was the central figure, doing all sorts of
amusing stunts. First, a harangue on Free Silver; then a
sweat bath between two mattresses, followed'by a dry rub
down with newspapers; a trip across the room in a wash
bowl craft, to the rhythmic melody of “Row, row, row your
boat;’! setting-up exercises with shingle tattoos hs accom
paniment; and finally an impromptu christening, in which a
sepulchral voice said, “I dub thee Swipes.” And from that
day the title had stuck to him.
Swipes opened his eyes again, and bent toward the cal
culus example with visible effort. As he did so, his glance
fell upon a tiny photo in the glass paper-weight before him.
He picked it up. The piquant little face under the glass
seemed to smile at him, and he smiled in return. Then,
realizing the absurdity of his action, he put the picture
down, laughed softly to himself. The first strokes of the
ten o’clock bell thundered out. Swipes yawned, wavered a
bit, then closed his book, turned out his light, undressed and
crept into bed.
The face in his paperweight figured largely in his
dreams, and the brown eyes shone with all sorts of madden
ing light when he said things to their owner which he would
dare say only in dreams. He had even mustered up enough
courage to kiss her, when some one shook him roughly by
the arm and he came out of dreamland into the matter-of
fact world. His room-mate, Stanislaus, was bending over
him.
“Get up, Swipes,” said his companion. “Those Fresh
ies have their flag up. Get dressed as quick as you can.
I’ll be back in a moment, after I wake up Maloney and
Thrasher, and the rest of the fellows on this floor. ”