There was a handful of fellows on the steps as he came out and he spoke to them, but had no wish to join them. There were other groups in front of Whitson and Oxford, and several boys were lolling on the grass near the flag-pole on The Prospect. One or two had books, but it was a noticeable fact that none was reading. Even the effort of holding a book was too much on such a day. Kendall nodded now and then, refused an invitation to join the group on the grass and skirted Oxford with a dim idea of walking down to the river. But back of Merle he heard a hail and, turning, saw The Duke waving to him across the yard. The Duke was resplendent to-day. There was a suit of blue-gray flannel, a vividly pink shirt, dark blue socks, tan shoes and a green tie. And The Duke seemed in high feather. Kendall sat down on the step of Merle and waited for the gorgeous one to join him. He had not seen The Duke since shortly after the game the day before and now he wondered whether that youth had got into difficulties over the affair of Mr. Gibson. He certainly didn’t have the appearance of a fellow in trouble! One would have thought, seeing him coming along the path, hands in pockets, whistling cheerfully, that he hadn’t a care in the world.