"That's Billson, our most prominent undergraduate.

We build confidently on Billson's future.

You could not do better, Dodd, than follow Billson." Presently after, in the midst of a still growing tumult, the figures coming and going more busily than ever on the board, and the hall resounding like Pandemonium with the howls of operators, the assistant teacher left me to my own resources at my desk.

The next boy was posting up his ledger, figuring his morning's loss, as I discovered later on; and from this ungenial task he was readily diverted by the sight of a new face.
"Say, Freshman," he said, "what's your name?
What?
Son of Big Head Dodd?
What's your figure?
Ten thousand?
O, you're away up! What a soft-headed clam you must be to touch your books!" I asked him what else I could do, since the books were to be examined once a month.
"Why, you galoot, you get a clerk!" cries he.

"One of our dead beats--that's all they're here for.