Brown, Jones and Robinson roomed in one of the college dormitories, but took their meals at a private boarding-house not far from the college yard. Memorial Hall had not yet been erected, and there was no public dining-place, as now. They paid a high price and enjoyed in return a luxurious table. About twenty students boarded at the same place, but less than half that number were present when Sam and the three sophomores entered the house.

"Leave your hat on the rack," said Brown, "and follow me."

He led the way into the dining-room and seated Sam beside himself.

"Is that your brother, Brown?" asked Bates, a classmate who sat opposite.

"Yes," answered Brown. "Do you think he looks like me?"

"He seems more intelligent," said Bates.

"Thank you. I owe you one."

"There's something about his left eyebrow that reminds me of you," said Bates, reflectively. "Yes, I should know he was your brother."

"I never saw him before," continued Brown. "He's been traveling ever since he was a baby, but this morning witnessed his happy restoration to my arms."

Sam listened to this chaffing with amusement. He relished it better than a discussion which followed upon the relative merits of two Greek authors which the students had been occupied with since entering college. This talk seemed very dry to Sam, whose previous life had hardly fitted him to take an interest in such subjects.

The dinner, however, he did relish, and did not fail to do justice to it.

"I think, Sam," said Brown, as the dessert came on, "that there is one society you will like better than the Alpha Zeta."

"What's that?" asked Sam.

"The Eta Pi Society."

"I can eat a pie as well as anybody," answered Sam, who, however, not being acquainted with the Greek alphabet, did not quite comprehend the joke.

"I should never think of doubting your word on that score. Here, Mary, bring this young man an extra large slice of apple pie. He has been working hard this morning."

At length the dinner was over, and the three students withdrew from the table.

"Well, Jones, what are your plans for the afternoon?" asked Brown.

"I'm going into town on important business."

"Such as what?"

"Ordering a new suit at my tailor's."

"That's important. How is it with you, Robinson?"

"I'm going in with Jones."

"To help him order his suit?"

"I shan't need any help in ordering it," said Jones. "I may need help in paying for it."

"I'd rather help order it," said Robinson. "Are you going into the city, Brown?"

"Not till four o'clock. I have a little work to do first. Sam, are you in any hurry to go back to Boston?"

"No," answered Sam. "I've made ten dollars this forenoon, and can afford to take it easy the rest of the day."

"Then stay with me until I go. I may have something to say to you."

"All right."

The three students parted; Jones and Robinson jumping on board a street car, while Brown took Sam to his room. It was not the one in which Sam's initiation had taken place, but another in the same dormitory, and was handsomely furnished. The walls were lined with fine engravings, and various ornaments adorned the mantel.

"Brown must be rich," though Sam. "I wish I had such a nice room."

"I'm going to read a little Greek," said Brown. "I was away two days last week, and I want to make up the lessons. You may find something on that bookcase to amuse you. Stretch yourself out in that armchair and make yourself comfortable."

Sam accepted the invitation willingly. He was not particularly bashful, and made himself quite at home. Most of the books on Brown's shelves struck him as very dry; but he finally found one profusely illustrated, and this entertained him till Brown, after an hour's silence and turning over the pages of his Greek dictionary, closed his books and said: "Well, thank goodness, that job's over!"

"Have you got through?"

"Yes, for to-day."

"Don't it make your head ache to study so hard?" asked Sam, curiously.

Brown laughed.

"I don't study hard enough to endanger my head," he answered. "I am not likely to become a martyr to science."

"You must know a lot," said Sam, opening the Greek book, and surveying the pages with admiring awe.

"My Greek professor does not appear to be of that opinion," said Brown, "judging from the way he marks me. However, it is quite possible that he is prejudiced, and can't appreciate modest merit. What have you got there?"

"The 'Arabian Nights' Entertainments,'" said Sam.

"Do you like it?"

"It's tiptop. I wish I had that lamp I've been reading about."

"Aladdin's lamp?"

"Yes."

"What would you do?"

"Call for a lot of money."

"You are poor," said Brown, thoughtfully,

"Yes, I'm about as poor as I want to be. I've been lookin' round for a fortune for five or six years; but I haven't found it yet."

"What can you do?"

"I was a clerk in New York."

"That means an errand boy, doesn't it?" inquired Brown, shrewdly.

"Yes," said Sam, not disturbed by being found out.

"How much did you receive for your services in New York?"

"Five dollars a week," answered Sam, telling the truth, by way of variety.

"I am afraid it would be hard to get that in Boston. Are you not fit for anything better?"

"I am afraid not," said Sam. "The fact is, I don't know much."

"In other words, your education has been neglected."

"Yes, it has."

"That's in your way. If you wrote a good hand, and were good at figures, you might perhaps do better than become an errand boy, though even then it is doubtful whether you could obtain more than five dollars a week."

"I don't see how I can live on that," said Sam, "even if I could get it."

"It would be rather hard," said the student. "I have twice that for spending money."

"And don't you have to pay for your clothes or your meals?" asked Sam.

"No, nor for my books, nor any of my college bills."

"Your folks must be awful rich," said Sam, not without a touch of envy.

"My father is prosperous in business," Brown admitted.

"Does he live in Boston?"

"No, he lives in Brookline."

"Where is that?"

"Not far from the city—not over three miles away."

"Couldn't your father give me a place in his store?" asked Sam.

"I don't think he has any vacancy,"

Sam looked despondent. Brown appeared to take an interest in him, and he had hoped that he might do something for him.

"But," Brown continued, "I have another plan for you."

"What is it?" asked Sam, his hopes reviving.

"I have a young brother of fourteen at home—there are only two of us; but he is small and delicate. He is lame, besides, having met with an accident when quite young. He is unable to go to school, as it would prove too great a tax upon one in his delicate state of health. He takes lessons at home, however, of a visiting tutor, as in this way his studies can be arranged to suit his varying strength. Now, I have been long of opinion that he requires a boy companion, older than himself, who is naturally lively and cheerful, to share with him in his amusements, to accompany him in his walks, and share with him in his studies. From what I have seen of you, I think you are just the companion my brother wants. Have you any bad habits?"

Sam had shrewdness enough to perceive that it would be better for him to be truthful. Besides, to do him justice, Brown's kindness had made an impression upon him, and he would have felt ashamed to deceive him.

"I am afraid I have," he answered; "but I could get rid of them."

"What are your bad habits?"

"Sometimes I swear," said Sam, candidly.

"Will you give that up?"

"Yes, I will."

"What else?"

"Sometimes I smoke cigars."

"You must give that up. My father abominates cigars."

"I will."

"What else?"

"I don't always tell the truth," said Sam, courageously.

"Lying is very ungentlemanly, to say the least. Do you think you can get over that?"

"Yes."

"Then, I will ask my father to take you on trial. I am going over to Brookline to supper this afternoon, and I will take you over, and talk with him about it. Will you go?"

"I'll go," said Sam, eagerly. "I'd like to be with your brother ever so much."