The supper over, the boys went up to their dormitory, and here as many of the cadets as could crowded in, to talk over the doings of the past vacation. Larry Colby had spent the time on the coast of Maine, and George Granbury had been to the Thousand Islands and to Montreal.

"Yes, Crabtree is in Canada," said George. "I met him in Montreal, and I can tell you, he looked seedy enough."

"Well, he deserves to be seedy," was d.i.c.k's comment. He could not forget how the former teacher had endeavored to hypnotize the widow Stanhope into marrying him, so that he could gain possession of the money she was holding in trust for Dora.

Of course all the boys wanted to know about Dan Baxter, for he had been a leading character at the Hall for many years. Some shook their heads at the idea of the former bully reforming.

"It will be the greatest surprise I ever heard of," was Larry's comment.

"He'll do it--mark my words," said d.i.c.k.

"Let us hope so," said George.

"Well, it would seem that Putnam Hall is not to suffer for the want of a bully," came from Fred. "We've got a new one here who is as bad as Dan Baxter ever was."

"Who is he?" questioned d.i.c.k, with interest.

"A chap named Tad Sobber. He is a big, overbearing fellow with hardly any education, and he wants to rule everybody. I can't understand how Captain Putnam took him as a pupil."

"He came well recommended, that's why," answered Songbird. "But I guess the captain has found out that the recommendation was false."

"He shan't rule me," said Tom, decidedly.

"We want no bullies here," put in d.i.c.k. "The day for all such is past."

"So say we all of us!" cried several cadets.

At that moment came a knock on the door, and a tall youth, wearing an unusually high collar and very large cuffs, came in.

"Well, if it isn't our old chum, William Philander Tubbs!" cried d.i.c.k, running forward and grasping the hand of the dude student.

"Hullo, Tubbsey, old man!" said Tom, gaily. "What's the price of the best cologne now?"

"Very--ah--glad to meet you again," drawled Tubbs. "But--er--please don't call me Tubbsey, because it isn't my name, don't you know."

"To be sure, b.u.t.tertub--I mean Washtub," answered Tom. "Had your hair crimped lately?"

"Now, Tom, I never crimp my hair--it hurts the color, don't you know,"

explained William Philander. "I use----"

"Glue with an egg beater," finished Tom with a wink at his friends. "By the way, Tubblets, do you know what I heard some girls say last week?

They said they thought you were a regular fashion plate."

"Now did they really?" gushed the dude, much pleased. "Who--er--said it?"

"Two girls living not many miles from here."

"You--ah--don't happen to know their names?"

"No. But I can tell you all about them."

"Ah! Then please do, Tom," said the dude eagerly. To have any young ladies think of him pleased him immensely.

"Well, these are a couple of young ladies who work in a laundry. Maybe they wash your shirts. They are colored, and----"

"Colored!" gasped the dude, and then a shout of laughter went up, in the midst of which William Philander started to leave the room.

"Don't go away mad, Billy," cried Tom. "Isn't it nice even to have two dusky damsels think of you?"

"No, it is not--it is--is horrid!" answered William Philander. "I think you are--er--poking fun at me."

"Never did such a thing in my life, my dear fellow--it's against my internal regulations. But how have you been since the week before next month?"

"I had a delightful vacation."

"Took the girls out to ice-cream sociables and yellow teas every day you wasn't playing golf or hop-scotch, I suppose."

"I--er--took the young ladies out some--we had glorious times, don't you know. One moonlight night on Lake George I shall never forget, don't you know. We were out in a tiny rowboat and the moon was sparkling over the water, and Geraldine and I----"

"Lucky Geraldine!" sighed Tom. "And thrice lucky Philander Willander--I mean William Philander!"

"Can't you make up a poem about Geraldine, Songbird?" asked Sam.

"And don't forget to put in the moonlight," came from d.i.c.k.

"And the silvery waves, and murmuring breeze," added Fred.

"How much older than you is Geraldine, any how?" quizzed Tom.

"Geraldine is----"

"You haven't got to tell her age if she is over thirty, Billy," said Larry. "Her age is sacred after that, you know."

"And don't tell us even if she has false teeth," came from Sam.

"And it doesn't make any real difference whether her hair is her own or not."

"It's hers if it is paid for," said Tom. "You don't suppose a girl that Billy would fall in love with would wear tresses that were stolen?"

"And to think she may be fat!" sighed Sam. "I hope she doesn't weigh over two hundred, w.i.l.l.y."

"Oh dear me!" cried the dude, in desperation. "I want you to remember----"

"That she is yours and yours only," finished Tom. "Yes, n.o.body shall walk in your corn patch, Bill--not over my dead body. But tell us--secretly if you must--does she wear a number eight shoe or a twelve?"

"If you don't stop your fooling----" gasped the dude.

"He is going to keep his dreadful secrets to himself," cried Tom, mournfully. "Alack! and too bad! But never mind, we'll all come to the wedding, Tubblets, and bring lemons if you say so?"