“The worst of it is,” said Bob, “we may be all out of date with our clothes when we get to Boxwood and see what the fellows there are wearing. We may have to get a lot of new things.”
“Nothing more than a cap or two, I guess,” Jerry said. “We’ll wait about them until we get there, and find out what kind the fellows are sporting. We’ll wear our auto caps until then.”
“Auto caps!” cried Bob. “They won’t look good in the train.”
“Who said anything about a train?” asked Jerry.
“Why, aren’t we going to Fordham by train?”
“Didn’t you tell him about it?” asked the tall lad of Ned.
“Why, Ned and I talked it over,” said Jerry, “and we decided it would be a good stunt, as long as we’re going to take our car to college with us, to motor down in it instead of going by train. I supposed he had told you, but I guess there was so much going on that he forgot about it.”
“Motor down!” Bob exclaimed. “That will be swell! We can do it easily in a day, and we can take along our----”
“Lunch!” cut in Ned, taking care to have Jerry between him and Bob.
“Oh, you make me tired!” exclaimed the stout lad. “I was going to say take our trunks along, and save a lot of bother with the expressman.”
“That’s so,” Jerry said. “Let Chunky alone, Ned. He’s all right, even if he does eat five times a day.”
“Now you’re picking on me!” laughed Bob. “Well, go as far as you like, I can stand it if you can.”
“Say, I’ll tell you what we might do,” cried Ned, as he and his chums got into their car for a spin out into the country, as it was a day or so yet before they would depart for Boxwood Hall.
“We might write to Professor Snodgrass, and ask him what sort of duds the fellows wear there. Then we’d know what to get and save doubling up.”
“Do you mean that?” asked Jerry, with a queer look at his chum.
“You ought to know the professor by this time,” remarked the tall lad with a laugh. “He doesn’t know any more about clothes than a bat!”
“I should say not!” chimed in Bob, who was, as his friends said, “some nifty little dresser.” “The professor would get styles all mixed up with his bugs and butterflies,” went on the stout lad. “He’d tell us that the fellows were wearing sweaters with double-jointed legs, and trousers with stripes running around them like that queer beetle he got when we were down in Mexico. He’d have just about that much idea of what we wanted to know.”