Sunday Eight o'Clock
study here," he went on, "with all the noise that goes on down stairs. Did you hear 'sister' last night hitting the piano and warbling to her young man while we were trying to bone on Calc? I guess I wasn't especially polite."
"Now look at the side rail of that bed. It's as sway backed as an old horse. There's another castor smashed, too. If you simply touch a thing it goes to pieces. I'll bet her great grandmother bought these things second hand when she went to housekeeping. Do you suppose she ever dusts? I wrote your name in the layer on the window sill two weeks ago, and it's there yet. And the bath room—"
"Never mind turning out the light, Mac," he said as they started down stairs, "we'll not be gone long."
"My dear," the woman downstairs was saying to her husband, "those students are simply unendurable. Mr. McGregor came in after twelve last night and made so much
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