The most popular verse in a class-song Watts wrote, was devoted to burlesquing his soberness, the gang never tiring of singing at all hours and places: "Goodness gracious! Who's that in the 'yard' a yelling in the rain?
That's the boy who never gave his mother any pain, But now his moral character is sadly on the wane, 'Tis little Peter Stirling, bilin' drunk again.
Oh, the Sunday-school boy, His mamma's only joy, Is shouting drunk as usual, and raising Cain!" Yet joke Peter as they would, in every lark, be it drive, sail, feed, drink, or smoke, whoever's else absence was commented upon, his never passed unnoticed.
In Sophomore year, Watts, without quite knowing why, proposed that they should share rooms.

Nor would he take Peter's refusal, and eventually succeeded in reversing it.
"I can't afford your style of living," Peter had said quietly, as his principal objection.
"Oh, I'll foot the bills for the fixings, so it shan't cost you a cent more," said Watts, and when Peter had finally been won over to give his assent, Watts had supposed it was on this uneven basis.

But in the end, the joint chambers were more simply furnished than those of the rest of the gang, who promptly christened them "the hermitage," and Peter had paid his half of the expense.

And though he rarely had visitors of his own asking at the chambers, all cost of wine and tobacco was equally borne by him.
The three succeeding years welded very strong bands round these two.

It was natural that they should modify each other strongly, but in truth, as in most cases, when markedly different characteristics are brought in contact, the only effect was to accentuate each in his peculiarities.
Peter dug at his books all the harder, by reason of Watts's neglect of them.