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THE PLASTIC AGE
145

"I’m Hugh Carver. I—I guess I’m going to room with you.”

“You sure are!” yelled Carl, jumping over the trunk and landing on Hugh. “God! I’m glad to see you. Put it there.” They shook hands and stared at each other with shining eyes.

Then they began to talk, interrupting each other, gesticulating, occasionally slapping each other vio¬ lently on the back or knee, shouting with laughter as one of them told of a summer experience that struck them as funny. They were both so glad to get back to college, so glad to see each other, that they were almost hysterical. And when they left Surrey 19 arm in arm on their way to the Nu Delta house “to see the brothers,” their cup of bliss was full to the brim and running over.

“Criminy, the ol’ campus sure does look good,” said Hugh ecstatically. “Watch the frosh work.” He was suddenly reminded of something. “Hey, freshman I” he yelled at a big, red-faced youngster who was to be full-back on the football team a year hence.

The freshman came on a run. “Yes—yes, sir?”

“Here’s a check. Take it down to the station and get my suit-case. Take it up to Surrey Nine¬ teen and put it in the room. The door’s open. Hurry up now; I’m going to want it pretty soon.

“Yes, sir. I ’ll hurry.” And the freshman was* off running.