“All packed?” inquired Robert Owen, inserting his head through the door of Number 7 Hale and sweeping the scene of confusion with a curious glance. Satisfied to accept the evidence of his eyes in lieu of a definite reply, Owen was just closing the door again when one of the Peck twins, who inhabited the room, sang out: “Hi there, Bobby! Come in here a minute!”

Owen let himself in and set his back against the door.

“You call that packing, do you?” he asked, looking with a grin of amusement at a big trunk which gaped at him with wide-distended jaws, the whole front of the tray showing like a flaunting tongue. “Whose trunk is that?”

“Don’s,” replied Duncan.

“Why don’t you take some of the things out and put them in yours?”

“Because he’s going straight home, and I’m not,” retorted Duncan.

“That lid will never go down,” said Owen, who had been examining the overfed monster. “You’ll have to repack.”

“Repack! Why, what’s the matter with that packing? That wasn’t done the way Blossom does his—fill a pillowcase and hammer it down with a baseball bat—that’s all hand work.” He came nearer and whispered in Owen’s ear: “I don’t want it repacked. I put in a couple of old bottles that I picked up down back of Porter’s. There’ll be something doing when mother unpacks them.”

Donald came out of his bedroom. “Do you think it will go?” he asked of neither in particular, gazing doubtfully at the problem.

“Of course it will,” said Duncan, promptly, “if you put weight enough on it. Try it, Bob, and see what your hundred and eighty will do.”

“Hundred sixty-eight,” corrected Owen, as he mounted the incline. The lid sank to within four inches of its proper place.

“I’m afraid we’ve got to take some things out,” sighed Donald.

“If you take out anything, it will have to be that box of specimens,” remarked Duncan, shrewdly. The box of specimens was the one thing which Donald would not want to leave behind.

Donald meditated.

“Let’s try to snap it,” proposed Duncan. “Bob and I will get on one end and jump it down. You try to catch the fastening when it comes right. Then when we get one tight, we’ll down the other.”

This method actually proved effective. Donald caught the fastening at one end at the fourth attempt; the weight of all three brought the second fastening into place. The lid fortunately was strongly made and the hinges held. Donald locked the trunk and put the key in his pocket, while Owen and Duncan pulled the strap to a hole beyond the power of any porter to loosen. Then they drew long breaths and contemplated the work of their hands.

“It’s like a bale of hay,” said Duncan in triumph. Donald, however, seemed not wholly satisfied.

“I wish it had iron bands round it. If the thing bursts, I shall be all to the bad.”

“That strap’s as good as an iron band,” spoke his twin, reassuringly. “Things go a great deal better when they’re packed tight; I’ve heard mother say so often.”

“Why don’t you go together?” asked Owen, marvelling that the twins, who belonged together like the two halves of a walnut, should actually be at the point of separation.

“That’s a personal question, but I’ll condescend to answer it,” returned Duncan, a little sheepishly. “Don, of course, has passed all his exams. I only got recommended in three, and I believe I’ve flunked ’em all. So I’m going down to Uncle Will’s till after the Fourth, and then I’m to tutor in Cambridge. If I get a decent number of points in the fall, I’m coming back here. If I don’t, I’ve got to go to work.”

“Shall you keep your room?”

Duncan nodded. “It doesn’t cost anything to do that. They’ve given me a room-mate too, a tall, bony fellow, named Archer. Upper middler. Hails from Portland.”

“You’ve seen him, then?”

“No. He’s related to the Sedgwicks, and he was there the other day. That’s his description as I got it from Wally. When are you going?”

“To-day. I may as well say good-by.” Owen held out a hand which Duncan gripped.

“I don’t suppose you’ll ever be seen here again,” said the Peck, ruefully. “You’ll have to come with the freshman teams, though, won’t you?”

“If I can make any,” answered Owen, lightly.

“Make any!” Duncan sniffed. “If you call that modesty, I don’t. It’s pure affectation. You know you could make the Varsity nine, if they’d let freshmen play.”

“I shall come up anyway, whether I play with the freshmen or not,” pursued Owen, disregarding Duncan’s flattering comment. “I shall want to turn up here occasionally to see the old place and the profs and the people I know.”

“Gee! wouldn’t it be sport when you’re all through and aren’t afraid of anybody!” exclaimed Duncan, his tongue hurrying after his imagination. “I’d walk up to Doc Rounder and say, ‘How-de-do, Doctor Rounder! How’s that fine dog of yours?’ Doc would smile all over and begin to crack the mongrel up. Then I’d tell him that the pup looked pretty well for such an old dog, and ask if the police really did shoot at him for snapping at people. I’d see Hayes and thank him for all he taught me—he was always telling me that I was the only fellow he’d ever had whom he couldn’t teach anything to—and josh him about his chickens. I’d call on old Moore and get him going about the school spirit. I’d—”

“You’d better wait till you graduate before you plan to come back to show yourself off,” interrupted Owen, laughing.

“That’s a fact,” returned Duncan, suddenly reduced to humility. “Most likely I shall be doing the errand-boy stunt in my father’s office. Don’ll have to be the one to come back.”

“I’m never coming back,” said Don, decidedly. “I’m down on the place. They’re always looking for a chance to fire you, and they haven’t given Dun a fair show. When he’s a great man, I hope he’ll be elected trustee and cut down all their salaries.”

“That’s just what I’d do,” declared Duncan. “And what I took off from the salaries of the profs I don’t like I’d give to those who are on the square.”

“I can guess who’d get an increase,” Owen remarked.

“Not very hard to do that. I wish you’d guess how I’m going to get twelve points this summer.”

“Buck up and work, you idiot!” cried Donald, impatiently.

“That’s what I’m going to do, isn’t it?” Duncan retorted. “I know what I’m up against without your rubbing it in.”

At this juncture Owen, regardless of the fact that by staying five minutes longer and using a little diplomacy he could involve the twins in a first-class scrap, virtuously said good-by and returned, somewhat depressed, to his packing. He liked Duncan Peck too well to hear of his troubles with unconcern. He hoped sincerely that the boy would get off a lot of points in September, and that the new room-mate would prove to be of the right sort.