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TOM IS KIDNAPPED
237

"And to think that next term we'll have to go into the west dormitory," went on Sid. "We'll be bloomin' sophs then. At least you will."

"That's very nice of you to say so, but what about yourself?"

"I'm not so sure," and Sid spoke dubiously. "That confounded Latin will be the death of me. I tell you what it is. I was never cut out for a classical scholar. Now, if they had a course of what to do on first base, I'd be able to master it in, say, a four years' stretch. But I'm afraid I'll go the way of our mutual acquaintance Langridge, and spend two years as a freshman, at which rate I'll be eight years getting through college."

"Oh, I hope not. You stand better than Langridge. He's smart—not that you aren't—but he doesn't get down to it. It's just like his baseball practice, if he would only——"

Then Tom stopped. He didn't want to talk about the player whom he was trying to supplant on the nine. "Well," he finished, "I guess I'll turn in. We'll have to see Dutch in the morning and learn what the new plans are."

Housenlager and his fellow members of the freshman dinner committee found it advisable to make a change after what Sid and Tom had discovered.

"But we can't alter the time or place of the feed," explained Dutch. "It's too late to do that