BACK IN TOGS Brimfield Academy was in full swing.

The term was a day old and one hundred and fifty-three youths of various ages from twelve to twenty had settled down, more or less earnestly, to the school routine.

In 12 Billings trunks had been unpacked and the room had taken on a look of comfort and coziness, although several things were yet lacking to complete its livableness.

For instance, an easy-chair of some sort was a crying necessity, a drop-light would help a lot, and a cushion and some pillows on the window-seat were much needed.

Tom argued that if the window-seat was furnished they would not require an easy-chair, but Steve held out for the added luxury.
Both boys, Steve by a narrower margin than he suspected, had made the Fourth Form, and this afternoon, as they expeditiously changed into football togs, their glances more than once stole to the imposing piles of books on the study table, books which hinted at many future hours of hard work.