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TEN-THIRTY P. M. ON THE THIRD FLOOR
                         D. '10
  "Hallo, Roomy!"
  "Hallo, Fusser!"
  "Wrong again. Hereafter my pet name Is 'Stung."'
  "You're crazy."
  "I'm stung."
  "Well, spit it out. Can't wait all night for any fusser's tale
of woe."
  "Be kind to me, Roomy-this is no comedy."
  "Commence."
  "Well, I don't divulge to every one, but I'm a sieve to you.
Here's facts: you know, this fall, she didn't come-"
  ''Who?"
  "'Duts, you rumdum, whom else? I said she didn't come
back 'til late. I was going to develope into a greasy grind if
I didn't pick up a mate some place, so I draped Fred's and
your clothes about my Adonis build and, wholly unbeknownst
to the general meelee, increased the Pal and livery assets
about five bones per week. Incidentally, I gave that little
Kappa Gamma-Flo-the impression she was queen of my
bountiful pa-signed contributions.
  "'Now, Roomy, don't be hard on me. I went too far.
I told the little Kappa Gamma she was nominated to fill the
vacancy. 'Course she'd heard of Duts, and I had to come
strong to cancel the rumor.
  " 'Why, Flo,' I said, 'you musn't believe all you hear.
That's a college story. Miss Dutsen 's a friend-just a friend.
  "Well, Roomy, Duts dragged her four trunks of decora-
tions into this town about two weeks ago and started trim-
ming herself to the distraction of my Phi Beta Kappa aspira-
tions. 'Twas your dear room-mate back to his first love; and
he backed hard. Duts' sweet little frat sisters squealed.
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