you don't

"Home? No, you don't!" expostulated half a dozen laughing voices; "we 've unearthed the would-be hermit, and we mean to keep him,replica chanel handbags."
"Can't go with you to-night, boys, worse luck!" repeated the second speaker,jeremy scott adidas 2012. "Got to cram for that examination or be plucked again; and one more plucking will settle this child's university career!"
"Oh, let the examinations go to the dickens! What 's the use,fake chanel bags?--all the same a hundred years hence. The idea of cramming Friday night! Come on!"
"Can't do it, old chaps; but next time goes. See you Monday. Ta-ta!"
Polly peeped cautiously from behind her tree.
"I believe that voice is Edgar Noble's, or else I 'm very much mistaken. I thought of it when I first heard them singing. Yes, it is! Now, those hateful boys are going to get him into trouble!"
Just at this moment four of the boys jumped from the ground and, singing vociferously--

"He won't go home any more,
He won't go home any more,
He won't go home any more,
Way down on the Bingo farm!"

rushed after young Noble, pinioned him, and brought him back.
"See here, Noble," expostulated one of them, who seemed to be a commanding genius among the rest,--"see here, don't go and be a spoil-sport! What 's the matter with you? We 're going to chip in for a good dinner, go to the minstrels, and then,--oh, then we 'll go and have a game of billiards. You play so well that you won't lose anything. And if you want money, Will's flush, he 'll lend you a 'tenner.' You know there won't be any fun in it unless you 're there! We 'll get the last boat back to-night, or the first in the morning."
A letter from his mother lay in Edgar's pocket,--a letter which had brought something like tears to his eyes for a moment, and over which he had vowed better things. But he yielded, nevertheless,--that it was with reluctance did n't do any particular good to anybody, though the recording angels may have made a note of it,--and strolled along with the other students, who were evidently in great glee over their triumph.
Meanwhile Polly had been plotting. Her brain was not a great one, but it worked very swiftly; Dr. George called it, chaffingly, a small mind in a very active state. Scarcely stopping to think, lest her courage should not be equal to the strain of meeting six or eight young men face to face, she stepped softly out of her retreat, walked gently down the road, and when she had come within ten feet of the group, halted, and, clearing her throat desperately, said, "I beg your pardon"--
The whole party turned with one accord, a good deal of amazement in their eyes, as there had not been a sign of life in the road a moment before, and now here was a sort of woodland sprite, a "nut-brown mayde," with a remarkably sweet voice.
"I beg your pardon, but can you tell me the way to Professor Salazar's house? Why" (this with a charming smile and expression as of one having found an angel of deliverance),--"why, it is--is n't it?--Edgar Noble of Santa Barbara!"
Edgar, murmuring "Polly Oliver,Home Page, by Jove!" lifted his hat at once, and saying, "Excuse me, boys," turned back and, gallantly walked at Polly's side.