"Why, what's the matter?"
For answer Langridge silently pointed to the gay hatband of the other.
"Take it off—take it off," he said. "Don't you know it's against the sacred customs of Randall College for a freshman to wear the colors on his hat until after the flagpole rush? Don't you know it, I ask?"
"Yes, I heard something about it."
"Better strip it off, then," went on Langridge. "Here come Morse and Denfield, a couple of scrappy sophs. They'll have it off you before you can say 'all Gaul is divided into three parts,' which you slumped on in Latin to-day."
Fenton looked up, and saw approaching the group of freshmen which included himself, two tall lads, who walked along with the swagger that betokened their second year at college. The hand of Fenton went to his hat, to take off the offending band, but he was too late. The sophomores had seen it. They turned quickly and strode over to the group of first years.
"Would you look at that, Morse!" called Denfield in simulated wrath.
"I should say so," came the answer. "The nerve of him! Hi, fresh, what are you doing with that hatband?"
Then Fenton did something totally opposed to
