"Hullo, Briggsy!" cried Prescott, extending his hand, which the
third classman took with unusual warmth.
"Being no longer a plebe, I enjoy the great pleasure able to address
an upper classman before I'm addressed," went on Briggs.
"That's so, Briggsy," affirmed Greg.
Before going off on their furlough both had been compelled to
regard Briggs as an unfortunate plebe, with whom it was desirable
to have as little to do as possible. Then it had been "Mr. Briggs";
now it was "Briggsy"; that much had the round little fellow gained
by stepping up from the fourth class to the third.
"Have you found any b.j. beasts among the new plebes, Briggsy!"
Dick wanted to know.
"Plenty of 'em," responded Briggs with enthusiasm.
"Any that were b.j.-er than Mr. Briggs?" inquired Greg.
A shade annoyance crossed the new yearling's face.
"I never was b.j., was I?" he murmured.
"Think!" returned Dick dryly. "However, you're Briggs, now, with
all my heart---no longer 'mister.'"
"We've had a busy, busy summer," murmured Briggs, "licking the
new beasts into shape."
Greg laughed heartily at memory of some of the hazing stunts through
which he had once helped to rush Briggs.
Furlong, Griffin and Dobbs, of the second class, hurried over to
greet Prescott and Holmes.
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