Andy Blair had signed for Yale University. He had, as before noted, communicated to his father his desire to attend the New Haven institution, and Mr. Blair, who had given his son a free hand in the matter, had acquiesced.

Milton was well known among the various preparatory schools, and her final examinations admitted to Yale with few other formalities. So Andy had no trouble on that score, save in a few minor matters, which were easily cleared up.

He had matriculated, and all that remained was to select a room or dormitory. He had been studying over a Yale catalog, and looking at the accompanying map which gave the location of the various buildings.

“Now the question is,” said Andy, talking it over with the folks at home, “the question is do I want to go to a private house and room, or had I better take a place in one of the Halls. I rather like the idea of a Hall room myself—Wright for choice—but of course that might cost more than going to a private house.”

“If it’s a question of cost, don’t let that stand in the way,” replied Mr. Blair, generously. “I’m not given to throwing money away, Andy, my boy, and a college education isn’t a cheap thing, no matter how you look at it. But it’s worth all it costs, I believe, and I want you to have the best.

“If you can get more into the real life of Yale by having a room in Wright Hall, or in any of the college dormitories, why do so. There’s something in being right on the ground, so to speak. You can absorb so much more.”

“Good for you, Dad!” cried Andy. “You’re a real sport. Then I vote for a Hall. I’ll take a run down and see what I can arrange.”

“But wouldn’t a private house be quieter?” suggested Mrs. Blair. “You know you’ll have to do lots of studying, Andy, and if you get in a big building with a lot of other students they may annoy you.”

“Oh, I guess, Mother,” said Bertha, Andy’s sister, “that he’ll do his share of annoying, too.”

“Come again, Sis. Get out your little hammer, and join the anvil chorus!” sarcastically commented Andy.

“No, but really,” went on Mrs. Blair, “wouldn’t a private house be quieter, Andy?”

“Not much more so, I believe,” spoke the prospective Yale freshman. “When there’s any excitement going on those in the private houses get as much of it as those in the college buildings. But, as a matter of fact, when there’s nothing on—like a big game or some of the rushes—Yale is as quiet as the average Sunday school.

“Why, the day I was there I walked all around and nothing happened. The fellows came and went, and seemed very quiet, not to say meek. I walked over the campus, and I expected every minute some big brute of a sophomore would smash my hat down over my eyes, and give a qbRah! Rah!’ yell. But nothing like that happened. It was sort of disappointing.”

“Well, you need quiet if you’re going to study,” went on Mrs. Blair. She had an idea that Yale was a sort of higher-grade boarding school, it seemed.

“Then I’ll decide on Wright Hall,” remarked Andy. “That is, if I can get in.”

Then followed some correspondence which resulted in Andy being informed that a room on the campus side of Wright Hall, and on the second floor, was available. The only trouble was that it was a double room, and Andy would have to share it with another student.

“Hum!” he exclaimed when he had this information. “Now I’m up against it once more. Who can I get to go in with me? I don’t want to take a total stranger, and yet I guess I’ll have to.”

“You might advertise for a roommate?” suggested his mother.

“I guess they don’t do things that way at Yale,” spoke Andy, with a smile.

“Why don’t you wait until you get there, and maybe you’ll find somebody in the same fix you are?” asked Bertha.

“I guess that is good advice,” remarked Andy. “I’ll take a run down there some time before term opening, and maybe I can get some nice chap wished on me. If Tom, or Chet, or some of the Milton lads, were coming to Yale it would be all right.”

“Didn’t any of them pick out Yale?” asked Mr. Blair.

“Not as far as I know.”

“Oh, well, I guess you’ll make out all right, son. A good roommate is a fine companion to have, so I hope you won’t be disappointed. But there’s no hurry.”

The long summer vacation was at hand. Andy’s people were to go to a lake resort, and soon after coming home from Milton, Andy, with his mother and sister, was installed in a comfortable cottage. Mr. Blair would come up over week-ends.

Chet Anderson and Tom Hatfield were at a nearby resort, so Andy knew he was in for a good summer of fun. And he was not disappointed. He and his chums spent much time on the water, living in their bathing suits for whole days at a time. But I will not weary you with a description of the various things they did. Sufficient to say that the vacation was like a good many others Andy had enjoyed, and expected to enjoy again. Nothing in particular happened.

The Summer wore on. The dog-days came and there loomed in the distance the Fall months. Tom had called on Andy one day, and they went out in the canoe together.

“Well, it will soon be study-grind again,” remarked Tom, as he sent the light boat under a fringe of bushes out of the sun.

“Yes, and I won’t be sorry,” spoke Andy. “I’m anxious to see what life at Yale is like. I’ve got to take a run down in a week or so, to fix up about my room. You haven’t heard of anyone I know who is going to be a freshman there; do you?”

“No, but I saw an old friend of yours the other day.”

“You did! Who?”

“Remember that little actress you did the fireman-save-my-child act for this Spring?”

“Miss Fuller? Sure I do. Did you see her?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“Oh, at a vaudeville theater. She remembered me, too.”

“Did she ask for me?”

“Naturally. I told her you were going to Yale, and she said she might see you there.”

“How?”

“Why, she’s playing a couple of weeks early in October at Poli’s. You want to look her up.”

“I sure will. You saw the mackinaw she sent me?”

“Yes, it’ll come in handy for Yale. I wish I was with you, but I’m wished on to Cornell—I yell!”

“Oh, well, we can’t all go to the same place, but it sure would be fine if we could.”

Then they began to talk of the old days at Milton, until the shadows lengthened over the lake and it was time to paddle back to the cottage.

Andy took a run down to New Haven the next week, and made his final arrangements. He was walking about the now deserted quadrangle, looking up at the window of the room he had selected in Wright Hall, when he was aware that a youth of his own age was doing the same thing.

Something seemed to attract Andy to this stranger. There was a frank, open, ingenuous look in his face that Andy liked. And there was that in the air and manner of the lad which told he came of no common stock. His clothing betokened the work of a fashionable tailor, though the garments were quiet, and just a shade off the most up-to-date mode.

“Are you a student here?” asked the stranger of Andy.

“No, but I expect to be. I’m going to start in.”

“So am I. Chamber is my name—Duncan Chamber, though I’m always called Dunk for short.”

“Glad to know you. My name’s Blair—Andy Blair.”

They shook hands, and then followed the usual embarrassed pause. Neither knew what to say next. Finally Duncan broke the silence by asking:

“Got your room yet?”

“Up there,” and Andy pointed to it.

“Gee! That’s all right—a peach! I’m up a stump myself.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’ve about taken one in Pierson Hall, but it’s a double one, and I’ve got to share it with a fellow I don’t take much of a leaning to. He’s a stranger to me. I like it better here, though. Better view of the campus.”

Andy took a sudden resolve.

“I’m about in the same boat,” he said. “That’s a double room of mine up there in Wright, and I haven’t a chum yet. I don’t know what to do. Of course I’m a stranger to you, but if you’d like to share my joint——”

“Friend Andy, say no more!” interrupted Duncan. “Lead me to thy apartment!”

Andy laughed. He was liking this youth more and more every minute.

The room was inspected. Andy was still the only one who had engaged it.

“It suits me to a T if I suit you,” exclaimed Duncan. “What do you say, Blair? Shall we hitch it up?”

“I’m willing.”

“Shake!”

They shook. Thus was the pact made, a union of friends that was to have a strange effect on both.

“Now that’s settled I’ll call the Pierson game off,” said Dunk, as we shall call him from now on. “I’m wished onto you, Blair.”

“I’m glad of it!”

The final arrangements were made, and thus Andy had his new roommate. They went to dinner together, and planned to do all sorts of possible and impossible things when the term should open.

Andy returned to the Summer cottage with the good news, and then began busy days for him. He replenished his stock of clothes and other possessions and selected his favorite bats and other sporting accessories with which to decorate his room. He had a big pennant enscribed with the name MILTON, and this was to drape one side wall. Dunk Chamber was from Andover, and his school colors would flaunt themselves on the opposite side of the room.

And then the day came.

Andy, spruce and trim in a new suit, had sent on his trunk, and, with his valise in hand, bade his parents and sister good-bye.

The family was still at the summer cottage, which would not be closed for another month. Then they would go back to Dunmore.

Yale was calling to Andy, and one hazy September morning he took the train that, by dint of making several changes, would land him in New Haven.

“And at Yale!” murmured Andy as the engine puffed away from the dingy station. “I’m off for Yale at last!”