JWKBS BARKIS'
 
 14C- 
 Lem*
 
 THE HUDSON LIBRARY. 
 
 Published monthly. Entered as second-class matter. 16, 
 paper, 50 cents. Published also in cloth. 
 
 i. LOVE AND SHAWL-STRAPS. 
 By Annette Lucille Noble. 
 
 a. MISS HURD: AN ENIGMA. 
 By Anna Katharine Qreen. 
 
 3. HOW THANKFUL WAS BE- 
 WITCHED. By Jas. K. Hos- 
 mer. 
 
 A WOMAN OF IMPULSE. By 
 Justin Huntley McCarthy. 
 
 THE COUNTESS BETTINA. 
 
 By Clinton ROSE. 
 HER MAJESTY. By Elizabeth 
 
 Knight Tompkins. 
 GOD FORSAKEN. By Frederic 
 
 Breton. 
 
 AN ISLAND PRINCESS. 
 Theodore Gift. 
 
 By 
 
 ELIZABETH'S PRETENDERS. 
 By Hamilton Aide. 
 
 AT TUXTER'S. By G. B. Bur- 
 gin. 
 
 CHERRYFIELD HALL. By F. 
 H. Balfour. 
 
 THE CRIME OF THE CEN- 
 TURY. By R. Ottolengui. 
 
 THE THINGS THAT MATTER. 
 By Francis Gribble. 
 
 THE HEART OF LIFE. By 
 W. H. Mallock. 
 
 THE BROKEN RING. By Eliza- 
 beth Knight Tompkins. 
 
 THE STRANGE SCHEMES OF 
 RANDOLPH MASON. By 
 Melville D. Post. 
 
 THAT AFFAIR NEXT DOOR. 
 By Anna Katharine Green. 
 
 IN THE CRUCIBLE. By Grace 
 Denio Litchfield. 
 
 EYES LIKE THE SEA. By 
 Maurus Jdkai. 
 
 AN UNCROWNED KING. By 
 S. C. Grier. 
 
 THE PROFESSOR'S DILEM- 
 MA. By Annette Lucille Noble. 
 
 THE WAYS OF LIFE. By 
 Mrs. Olipl-.ant. 
 
 THE MAN OF THE FAMILY. 
 By Christian Reid. 
 
 MARGOT. By Sidney Pickering. 
 
 THE FALL OF THE SPAR- 
 ROW. By M. C. Balfour. 
 
 a6. ELEMENTARY JANE. By 
 
 Richard Pryc. 
 97. THE MAN OF LAST RESORT. 
 
 By Melville D. Post. 
 38. STEPHEN WHAPSHARE. By 
 
 Emma Brooke, 
 ag. LOST MAN'S LANE. By Anna 
 
 Katharine Green. 
 
 30. WHEAT 
 Alien. 
 
 IN THE EAR. 
 
 31. AS HAVING NOTHING. By 
 
 Hester Caldwell Oakley. 
 
 32. THE CHASE OF AN HEIRESS. 
 
 By Christian Reid. 
 
 33. FINAL PROOF. By Rodrjgue. 
 
 Ottolengui. 
 
 34. THE WHEEL OF QOD. By 
 
 George Egerton. 
 
 35. JOHN MARMADUKE. By 8. 
 
 H. Church. 
 
 36. HANNAH THURSTON. By 
 
 Bayard Taylor. 
 
 37. YALE YARNS. By J. S. Wood. 
 
 38. THE UNTOLD HALF. By 
 
 Alien. 
 
 39. ROSALBA. By Olive P. Ray- 
 
 ner (Grant Allen). 
 
 40. DR. BERKELEY'S DISCOV- 
 
 ERY. By R. Slee and C. A. 
 Pratt. 
 
 41. ABOARD "THE AMERICAN 
 
 DUCHESS." By Headon Hill, 
 
 42. THE PRIEST'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 By Nora Vynne. 
 
 43. THE THINGS THAT COUNT. 
 
 By Elizabeth Knight Tompkins. 
 
 44. THE LEAVENWORTH CASE. 
 
 By Anna Katharine Green. 
 
 45. THE SECRET OF THE CRA- 
 
 TER. By Dumeld Osborne. 
 
 46. LONE PINE. By R. B. Town- 
 
 shend. 
 
 47. MARKED "PERSONAL." By 
 
 Anna Katharine Green. 
 
 48. IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. By 
 
 Ambrose Bierce. 
 
 49. THE DUPES. By E. W. Mum- 
 
 ford. 
 
 50. HAND AND RING. By Anna 
 
 Katharine Green. 
 
 51. AGATHA WEBB. By Anna 
 
 Katharine Green. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK AND I^ONDOK
 
 A PRINCETONIAN 
 
 A STORY OF UNDERGRADUATE LIFE AT 
 THE COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES BARNES 
 
 AUTHOR OF "FOR KING OR COUNTRY* 
 "MIDSHIPMAN FARRAGUT," BTC. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 7 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BKDFORD STREET, STRAND 
 
 Ube ftnieberbocfeer press 
 1901
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896 
 
 BY 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 
 
 Set up and electrotyped and printed Dec., 1896. Reprinted July, 
 1897. Reprinted Sept., 1898. Reprinted Oct., 1899, and June, 1901. 
 
 Vbe Knickerbocker preM, Hew tforh
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAG* 
 
 I. AN AMBITIOUS DEPUTY i 
 
 II. CARMINA PRINCETONIA . . .11 
 
 III. AB INITIO 25 
 
 IV. QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM . 32 
 V. WORK, STUFF, AND NONSENSE . 50 
 
 VI. A CONVERSION . . . .71 
 VII. A RETROSPECTION AND AN INTER- 
 RUPTION 75 
 
 VIII. THE HERO OF A TEA-FIGHT . . 81 
 
 IX. THE YOUNG MAN WITH A PURPOSE, 98 
 
 X. THE DANCE 106 
 
 XI. THE BLUE DEVILS . . . .116 
 
 XII. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION . .124 
 
 XIII. THE MAN IN THE 'VARSITY 
 
 SWEATER 138 
 
 XIV. CONSEQUENCES . . . . 152 
 XV. A CHANGE OF FRONT . . .162 
 
 XVI. THE WRONG TACK . . .179 
 
 XVII. SPRING TERM . . . .187 
 
 XVIII. A CHANGE OF PURPOSE . . .196 
 
 vii 
 
 2061707
 
 Vlll 
 
 Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 RACK 
 
 XIX. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT 
 
 . 20 9 
 
 XX. 
 
 A SET BACK 
 
 . 220 
 
 XXI. 
 
 IN HARNESS 
 
 2 3 6 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A PARTNERSHIP 
 
 254 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 SURGIT AMARI ALIQUID . 
 
 . 265 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 PARTISANS 
 
 273 
 
 XXV. 
 
 SENIOR YEAR 
 
 . 2 9 6 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 IN TOWN .... 
 
 35 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 CONVALESCENT . 
 
 313 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 A HOUSE-PARTY 
 
 . 3 22 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 PATRICK EXPLAINS . 
 
 333 
 
 XXX. 
 
 A DISCOVERY 
 
 342 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A PARTING 
 
 357 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A PALAVER 
 
 . 364 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 A CALL .... 
 
 378 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 IN SEARCH OF REST . 
 
 393 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 A FEW DEVELOPMENTS 
 
 . 400 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 ALLIES .... 
 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 AMOR VINCIT . 
 
 . 416 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Two INTERVIEWS 
 
 423
 
 A PRINCETONIAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN AMBITIOUS DEPUTY. 
 
 THE combination store of Van Clees & 
 Jackson looked out upon the huge, empty 
 square. It had a high, false front, with very 
 tall lettering upon it. This notified people who 
 drove into the town of Oakland (by any one of 
 the roads that wiggled out across the prairie) 
 that Van Clees & Jackson sold everything 
 and anything. 
 
 In front of the store on a tall pedestal was the 
 only wooden Indian in town, and just inside 
 the window was a handsome show-case filled 
 with cigars in very gaudy boxes ; next was a 
 lamp with little alcohol tapers, and then came 
 the soda-water fountain. But there was more. 
 There were boots and shoes, and rolls of cloth
 
 2 A Princetonian. 
 
 and calico, and overalls, and jumpers, and cut- 
 lery. The back part of the long room was per- 
 meated with the smell of nails and ham ; with 
 the insistent sub-effluvia of oats, of tea, and of 
 cinnamon. Rows of brilliantly wrapped canned 
 vegetables lined the shelves, and beautiful 
 advertising chromos were tacked up in conspic- 
 uous places. Anything that could possibly be 
 wished for, could be bought, and anything not in 
 sight, could be ordered, from a Walter Wood 
 reaper, to an Amoskeag fire engine. 
 
 It was a Monday morning, and it had been 
 raining. If there was one dismal place to look 
 out upon when it rained it was the town of 
 Oakland. Through the obscuring drizzle, the 
 wooden buildings that surrounded the square 
 looked like huge freight cars, all ready at a sig- 
 nal to be pulled out in different directions. 
 The residences of the townsfolk were not very 
 much in evidence, but rambled off toward the 
 railroad station a half mile or more away. 
 
 A big farm wagon towed by two plunging 
 grays, their legs brown with mud, trundled and 
 rumbled noisily through the heavy ruts and 
 stopped at Van Clees & Jackson's platform. 
 A young man in a yellow " slicker," with a
 
 An Ambitious Deputy. 3 
 
 beard growing up to his eyes, tied the reins to 
 the seat and jumped out. After an admoni- 
 tory curse at the tired horses, he flung open the 
 door and stamped into the store. 
 
 He peered down the narrow room. 
 
 " Hello, Newt ! " he shouted, leaning over 
 the counter, and giving a fat, gray cat a poke 
 with the butt of his whip, " Going to the dance 
 this evening?" 
 
 This remark was not addressed to the cat, as 
 might be supposed, but to a young man who sat 
 at a desk with a tall wooden railing, reading a 
 book by the light of a dimly burning lamp. 
 
 " Well, I don't know, Al," this young man 
 answered, untangling his legs from the rungs of 
 the high stool. " Mabel has kinder set her 
 heart on going, so I suppose I '11 turn up. Are 
 the Dixon boys coming? " 
 
 " Harry calls off the figures, so he told me," 
 said the first speaker, "and Dirk's goin' to play 
 the fiddle. Let 's have some pipe-fodder. I 'm 
 run out." 
 
 The clerk walked down behind the counter, 
 but, before he reached up on the shelf, the two 
 young men shook hands, without making any 
 further remarks at all.
 
 4 A Princetonian. 
 
 When Al had pocketed the tobacco,which was 
 tied up in a long, tight bag like a sausage, he 
 slouched into a comfortable position and poked 
 the gray cat again ; this offended her dignity 
 evidently, for she slid silently from the counter 
 and dodged behind a flour barrel. 
 
 " The Eagle kinder complimented you on the 
 way you took Bord McGovern last Wednes- 
 day," said Al, giving a glance out across the 
 square at the only brick building in town (which 
 happened to be the jail), " an' Sheriff Holly 
 says you done a good piece of work too," he 
 added. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " said the clerk, " It was n't 
 much. Bord did n't have anything against me. 
 He came along as peaceably as a lamb." 
 
 " More like a bull with a ring in his nose, I 
 reckon," said the other. " He 'd swan he 'd 
 drill a hole through any one that tried to take 
 him." 
 
 " Changed his mind, I guess," was the calm 
 rejoinder. " How are things out your way ? " 
 
 Al pushed himself to his feet and began but- 
 toning his long, yellow coat. 
 
 " Oh, looking up a little," he answered ; "go- 
 ing to dig a new well this spring."
 
 An Ambitious Deputy. 5 
 
 " That so ? Don't forget to give us the order 
 for the wind-mill," called the other. 
 
 " Bet your life I won't," said Al, from the 
 threshold ; then he slammed the door behind 
 him, thumped into the spring seat, and cursed 
 the horses into action. 
 
 Newton Wilberforce Hart, for that was the 
 clerk's name in full, went back to the lamp (it 
 was very dark in the store on rainy days) and 
 opened his book. It was an old-fashioned vol- 
 ume and it gave forth the attractive, musty 
 smell that the bookworm delights in. It was 
 written by somebody (long since forgotten) on 
 The Laws of Civil Government. The young 
 man read a few lines, and then closed the book 
 with a snap that sent some of the loose way- 
 bills flying off the desk lid on to the floor. He 
 picked them carefully up, and, turning down 
 the lamp, walked to the front of the store. 
 Two months before he had been appointed 
 deputy sheriff, and had signalized his appoint- 
 ment immediately by taking into custody Mr. 
 Bord McGovern, who, after committing various 
 offences great and small, had long defied the 
 authorities along the Platte River ; the gentle- 
 man's last little venture being the wounding of
 
 6 A Princetonian. 
 
 a United States Marshal, who objected to the 
 manner in which Mr. McGovern dispensed bad 
 corn whiskey at his State-line shanty. 
 
 It would have pleased most men, or women, 
 for that matter, who studied character, to look 
 at Messrs. Van Clees and Jackson's chief clerk. 
 He had a great pair of shoulders, and a broad, 
 flat back ; his face was not handsome, but his 
 eyes were well set in his head ; his thick hair 
 rose straight from his forehead and waved 
 slightly at the top, much in the manner that 
 we see affected in portraits of the early part of 
 the century. His face was smooth-shaven, 
 which was out of the usual run in a place where 
 the barber always complimented the young 
 men on their mustaches, but it had the blue- 
 black appearance of a heavy growth of beard. 
 Mr. Hart's mouth was straight and very 
 strong ; he stood a shade over six feet in his 
 boots, and the scales in the back of the store 
 had shown his weight to be one hundred and 
 eighty pounds with his coat off. He was 
 twenty-three years old. 
 
 A year before, when he had been teaching 
 the school at the Junction, he had first made a 
 name for himself by bumping two of the schol-
 
 An Ambitious Deputy. 7 
 
 ars' heads together, and compelling the largest, 
 a husky youth of nineteen, to write, " I will be 
 a good boy," twenty times on the black-board. 
 As the failure of the Junction school had been 
 attributed to the muscular resistance made by 
 this youth and his companions to the introduc- 
 tion of knowledge thereabouts, the committee 
 had upheld Mr. Hart, and, strange to say, the 
 unruly scholars had become his friends and 
 admirers. It was one of these who was going to 
 call off the figures at the coming dance. 
 
 As he stood looking into the rain, the deputy 
 sheriff was thinking things over. He realized 
 the difficulties which confronted him ; it was 
 his ambition to become a member of the bar of 
 the State of Nebraska, but the obstacles that 
 arose before his vision were great and many ; 
 the necessity of knowledge never appeared so 
 strong as it had in the last few weeks. 
 
 Suddenly there was a clattering on the rick- 
 ety stairway that led down from the second 
 floor. Hart recognized the footsteps, and sang 
 out, " Hullo ! " without turning to see who it 
 was. 
 
 The Van Clees lived up above, and Hart's 
 courtship of the buxom daughter of the senior
 
 8 A Princetonian. 
 
 member had been conducted at first by conver- 
 sations up the stairway, but, after the capture 
 of Bord McGovern, Mabel's heart had softened, 
 and Van Clees, greatly delighted, had accepted 
 his clerk as his future son-in-law. It was father 
 Van Clees himself who was coming down the 
 stairway. Odd to remark, Mr. Hart called his 
 employer by a nick-name. 
 
 " I say, Van," he said, " we '11 have to get a 
 boom on this town somehow. Did you ever 
 see anything so dead as that ? " 
 
 He nodded his head toward the square, where 
 two or three spectral-looking horses, tied to a 
 well-gnawed hitching post, were the only living 
 things in sight. 
 
 " There was a man here last week going to 
 put in a lumber yard," said Mr. Van Clees, 
 yawning, and taking a position by his clerk's 
 side. " Look here, Newt, how would you like 
 to go to Omaha to-morrow, and buy a bill of 
 goods ? I think we could do better than order- 
 ing by mail. Look at them cheeses last week." 
 
 " Why, certainly, I will go," said Hart, turn- 
 ing. " There are some things I would like to 
 get there too." He had in his mind a ring 
 among the other things.
 
 An Ambitious Deputy. 9 
 
 " Newt ! Oh, Newt ! " came a voice down the 
 stairway. 
 
 Mr. Van Clees jerked his thumb over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " She 's kinder anxious about the dance to- 
 night; wants to know what to wear." 
 
 Hart moved quickly back to the stairs, and, 
 after some conversation in a low voice, trotted 
 up to the second story. The older man smiled 
 contentedly. It would be a relief to him to 
 have his daughter married. To tell the truth, 
 she had a will of her own, and had displayed a 
 partiality for somehow getting into conversa- 
 tion with the drummers, and Mr. Van Clees 
 distrusted the travelling fraternity, having an 
 opinion of his own concerning their habits and 
 their general ideas about young women. With 
 the aid of the village dressmaker and the fashion 
 papers, Miss Van Clees had long been renowned 
 as the best-dressed girl in town. But the father 
 hoped that the cares of matrimony would tone 
 her down as a mere matter of economy. 
 
 It might be well to say that " Jackson," 
 whose name appeared upon the advertisements 
 of the store, was a silent partner who lived 
 some thirty miles away at Plattemouth, whence
 
 io A Princetonian. 
 
 he shipped cattle and hogs to the hungry East. 
 The prospective father-in-law was wording in 
 his mind a letter to his partner, telling him the 
 news of Mabel's engagement, when a woman 
 with a wet shawl around her head, and a basket 
 upon her arm, entered the store. 
 
 Mr. Van Clees dropped his cogitations to sell 
 her a side of bacon.
 
 - CHAPTER II. 
 
 CARMINA PRINCETONIA. 
 
 ' THERE was a long Pullman sleeping-car rest- 
 ing on the side-track in the Omaha freight 
 yards. A banner that stretched along the side 
 had the word " Princeton " upon it in black 
 letters on an orange background. 
 
 Inside there was a great deal of hubbub and 
 confusion. Young men were dressing in vari- 
 ous parts of the car, that was thick with clouds 
 of tobacco smoke, and there was the sound of 
 the tuning of banjos. 
 
 " Great Snakes ! I '11 have to buy a shirt be- 
 fore I go on the stage to-night ! " said a young 
 man, who had upset the contents of a dress-suit 
 case on a seat by the window. " Biff Wain- 
 wright did n't do anything to this last night, 
 only stepped on it when he got into the bunk. 
 It looks like a hoop after a circus lady is 
 through with it, does n't it, eh ? "
 
 12 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Oh, you are too particular, Bliss," returned 
 a good-looking chap with a Southern drawl. 
 "Who's seen my studs? I hope there'll be 
 some pretty girls there to-night." 
 
 " Say, I 'd like to get into Hollingsworth's 
 trunk," remarked Bliss. " These heelers take 
 too much room anyhow. He 's got a wash- 
 line full of shirts. It 's enough to make him 
 bilious." 
 
 John Hollingsworth, who was already dressed 
 in an immaculate suit, closed the trunk lid with 
 a snap. 
 
 " Go to thunder ! " he said ; " wear your own 
 shirts." Then he turned to the looking-glass, 
 and brazenly inspected his shadowy mustache. 
 
 " If you get on the wrong key to-night, 
 Tommy Wilson," said Emory Smith, the Glee 
 Club leader, knocking a short youth on the top 
 of the head with his ebony baton, " I '11 have 
 you sued for breach of contract." 
 
 " He '11 be sued for breach of promise before 
 he gets through with this trip," said a deep 
 bass voice from another compartment. " The 
 way he carried on with that little yaller-haired 
 thing at Kansas City was scandalous. Let 's 
 chain him up to-night."
 
 Carmina Princetonia. 13 
 
 " Chain nothing," said Tommy Wilson, who 
 had the mobile face of the comedian, and a 
 twinkle in his eyes that never failed to catch his 
 audience. " You fellows are jest jealous. Now 
 we handsome men " 
 
 " Oh, shut up ! " said one of the banjo play- 
 ers. " If you don't get a move on you, and get 
 dressed, Tommy, you '11 be late again. Then 
 the ' gentleman of the cash box ' will throw a 
 fine at you." 
 
 At this, a tall, rather sleepy-looking youth 
 turned about. He put a finishing touch to his 
 white tie, and came down the aisle of the car. 
 
 " Now I want all you fellows to be witnesses," 
 he said, " that I have bought Tommy a pair of 
 suspenders. He had on the porter's last 
 night." 
 
 " Oh, but they were giddy," said Tommy, 
 " kinder hated to give 'em up ; brought me 
 luck." 
 
 But he took the ones Manager Bishop handed 
 him, objecting strongly, however, to the style, 
 "because they did not have a flower garden on 
 'em." 
 
 " There 's one of our posters," said some one, 
 looking out of the window, and pointing to a
 
 14 A Princetonian. 
 
 bill-board fence. " Read as you run : ' Con- 
 cert ! Princeton College Glee and Banjo 
 Clubs ! '" he quoted ; then he added : " Come 
 one ; come all ; bring your children ; make the 
 little tots happy you don't word these things 
 right, Manager ! You should star the perform- 
 ers like Tommy here, and have a street parade 
 in advance, and you have n't said anything 
 about the ' Maudlin Club ' at all. Oh, I tell 
 you, I have a head like a tack." 
 
 In a few minutes the banjos and mandolins 
 were placed in their leather cases, and, leaving 
 the porter (who promptly went to bed in the 
 most comfortable bunk) in sole charge of the 
 car, the party of well dressed and gaily hilari- 
 ous young men crossed the freight yard, and 
 wended their way toward the big hotel near 
 the opera house, at which the concert was to 
 be given. 
 
 " Newton Wilberforce Hart," read the mana- 
 ger, from the hotel register. There it was 
 written in a round, strong hand that was more 
 or less characteristic of Mr. Hart's personal 
 appearance. 
 
 The latter had arrived only a few minutes 
 before the Glee Club came into the hotel ; he
 
 Carmina Princetonia. 1 5 
 
 had made up his mind that he would go to the 
 theatre that night, if there was anything in 
 town, and the big posters of the college enter- 
 tainment outside the hotel door had caught 
 his eye. But he had not decided, and being 
 very hungry he had gone into the dining-room 
 and had taken a seat in the corner, when he 
 heard the sound of men's voices talking to- 
 gether, as the Glee Club entered in a body. 
 
 They excited a great deal of interest among 
 the other guests of the hotel, and Hart, who 
 had his napkin tucked in at his collar and 
 spread across his broad chest, found himself 
 watching them attentively. He had the West- 
 erner's contempt for the East, and had placed 
 the college graduate in a category of his own. 
 Although he had never been thrown in contact 
 with the type, he was prejudiced entirely in 
 the matter, thinking that the college man was 
 apt to be self-satisfied, assuming, and somewhat 
 useless. 
 
 But there were two or three young men at 
 the table whose shoulders were quite as broad 
 as his own, and whom the deputy sheriff would 
 have picked out in an instant as bad men to 
 handle in a " rough-and-tumble." Besides this,
 
 1 6 A Princetonian. 
 
 they minded their own business, and, although 
 their good spirits were evident, their manners 
 were very different from those of a travelling 
 minstrel show that he had once seen at this 
 same hotel. The head waiter bowed them out 
 of the room with a graciousness that was differ- 
 ent from his usual condescension. Hart had 
 secretly admired their well-fitting clothes, and, 
 noticing that they did not have their napkins 
 tucked around their necks, he had pulled his 
 down into his lap. 
 
 When he went out into the rotunda of the 
 hotel, he found himself at the cigar counter at 
 the same moment with a young man of almost 
 his own age who said, " After you," politely, 
 as both reached forward toward the match 
 safe. Hart was not bashful, and the remark 
 had broken the ice. He struck a match and 
 held it for the other to light his cigar. " Where 
 can I get a ticket for your show to-night?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " At the Opera House," was the answer. 
 
 " Oh, I did n't know," said Hart, " but what 
 you sent out invitations, or something." 
 
 " No," said the other, " we are just like any 
 other show, and have to run the same chances."
 
 Carmina Princetonia. 1 7 
 
 " I did n't know but that your Alumni helped 
 you," said Hart, who knew he used the word 
 correctly. 
 
 " Oh, they do, once a college man, always a 
 college man," was the response. " I hope 
 you '11 come." He nodded pleasantly, and 
 walked away toward a group that was seated 
 in a corner. 
 
 The manager was acting as whipper-in and 
 was gathering the clan, as it were, preparatory 
 to starting. Hart followed them to the Opera 
 House and bought his ticket from a business- 
 like young chap, who assumed the position of 
 agent behind the little glass window. When 
 he entered the orchestra circle, he was shown 
 politely to his seat by another of the young 
 men he had recognized as one of the party at 
 table. 
 
 Soon the big hall began to fill. 
 
 Never in his life had the young deputy sheriff 
 seen so many well dressed people together. 
 There was a chatter and hum of conversation 
 that was confounding ; people bowed and 
 nodded to one another, and the young men 
 who were acting as ushers stopped and spoke 
 to many of the girls. Every one appeared to
 
 1 8 A Princetonian. 
 
 expect a good time. There was nothing of the 
 sitting-in-judgment that Hart had noticed in 
 the audiences of the few entertainments he 
 had attended. It was all very new to him. 
 
 Soon the curtain went up, and the white- 
 fronted little army marched out from the wings. 
 It was not like the minstrel show at all ; they 
 appeared really quite dignified and much at 
 their ease as they formed in line at the centre 
 of the stage. The leader stood in front. He 
 gave a little toot with something like a penny 
 whistle that he had in his hand ; made two or 
 three flourishes with his baton, and at once the 
 young men burst out into a marching chorus 
 with a swing and spirit that set Hart's feet to 
 keeping time. He looked at the program and 
 found that the words of the first song were 
 printed there in full. He read them as the 
 song went on : 
 
 " Tune every heart and every voice, 
 
 Bid every care withdraw, 
 
 Let all with one accord rejoice 
 
 In praise of old Nassau ! " 
 
 And so it went. The music stirred with the 
 words, and at the end Hart found himself 
 applauding as loudly as the old gentleman
 
 Carmina Princetonia. 19 
 
 behind him who had brought his daughters to 
 hear the old song again. 
 
 " They sing it a little faster than they used 
 to," the old gentleman remarked. 
 
 But, hold ! They were all back again. 
 
 The encore was not printed, but Hart caught 
 the words : 
 
 " Through the four long years of college, 
 
 'Midst the scenes we loved so well, 
 Where the mystic charm to knowledge 
 We vainly seek to spell." 
 
 " Mystic charm to knowledge " touched a 
 chord in Mr. Hart's bosom. What would he 
 not give to have the advantages that these 
 young men evidently seemed to appreciate. 
 A desire to learn more about it all came to his 
 mind. But the Glee Club had left the stage, 
 and the men with the banjos were coming on. 
 They each dragged forward a chair from the 
 back of the scenery and seated themselves. 
 Now it was more like the minstrel show. They 
 did not all strike the same attitudes (in fact, 
 some were not very graceful). However, it 
 was a rattling good jig they played, and Hart 
 thought it would have delighted the Dixon 
 boys to have heard it.
 
 20 A Princetonian. 
 
 " I '11 get the music of that," he said to him- 
 self, " and have Dirk learn it." 
 
 Then Mr. Hart thought how much Mabel 
 would enjoy being there with him. The pros- 
 pects, however, were that he never might have 
 the pleasure of going to another entertainment 
 like this, and the dreary square of Oakland 
 rose up before him. 
 
 But despite this, and to make it short, Mr. 
 Hart enjoyed the evening hugely. He laughed 
 at " The Owl and the Pussy Cat " and " Mary's 
 Little Lamb " with the " Ba, ba" chorus. He 
 enjoyed the tinkling of the mandolins and 
 Tommy Wilson's tale about a man who fell up 
 or down three flights of stairs, and he was 
 tickled to death at Tommy's imitation of a 
 hee-hawing donkey, and wanted to tell him 
 how good it was. 
 
 At last it was all over, and he drifted out 
 with the audience, and went back to the hotel. 
 There, in the corridor, he again met his friend 
 with whom he had exchanged the few remarks 
 after dinner. 
 
 " Best show I ever saw," he said. " You 
 won't mind my asking you some questions, 
 will you ? "
 
 Carmina Princetonia. 21 
 
 " Why, no," said the other, " fire away." 
 
 " Could you tell me how much it costs to go 
 to college ? " (Mr. Hart flushed at the idea of 
 his going to college.) 
 
 " Well," replied the young man, " I came 
 there with one hundred and fifty dollars, and 
 mud on my boots. But it all depends." 
 
 " I suppose I 'd be too old to go to school 
 now," suggested Mr. Hart. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said the other, " I worked 
 on a farm five years before I thought of going. 
 If I 'd known what it was going to be, I 'd have 
 worked five years longer rather than have given 
 it up." 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Hart. 
 
 " If you '11 let me have your address, I '11 send 
 you some books on the subject," the college 
 man continued. " But, hold on," he exclaimed, 
 come down to the car, and see how we live. 
 My name 's Franklin." 
 
 " My name 's Hart." 
 
 They shook hands. 
 
 " I '11 introduce you to some of the boys," 
 said Franklin. 
 
 Hart was delighted, and they left the hotel 
 and walked toward the car. All the way down
 
 22 A Princetonian. 
 
 the dark street they chattered, and at last they 
 reached the freight yard and stumbled out 
 across the tracks. 
 
 " Why, I was a ' Long-horn,' a regular hay- 
 seed, when I came to college," said Franklin, 
 continuing the subject of their conversation. 
 " Seems a long time ago, but it 's only four 
 years. Take care of that switch-bar, it nearly 
 broke my leg!" 
 
 " Thank you. What are you going to do 
 when you leave ? " asked Hart, who had allowed 
 his new friend to lead the way. 
 
 "Don't know, exactly," Franklin returned. 
 "All I want is the chance." 
 
 " That 's what I 've said for a long time," re- 
 plied Hart, " but chances are not lying loose in 
 the place from which I come. I am afraid," he 
 added, retrospectively, " it 's a one-horse town." 
 
 When the two entered the Glee Club car 
 (which they found had been moved down the 
 track), there were only a few of the members 
 present, most of them having stayed up in the 
 town to attend a small reception given by one 
 of the Alumni. 
 
 Mr. Hart's guide introduced him to four or 
 five young fellows, who, Hart noticed, did not
 
 Carmina Princetonia. 23 
 
 have their hair parted in the middle (he had 
 considered this fashion characteristic of college 
 men in general) ; they welcomed him, and soon 
 he was smoking and joining in the talking. 
 Tommy Wilson had not stayed for the recep- 
 tion, and Hart congratulated him on his solo ; 
 expressing pleasure at the songs he had heard ; 
 he was immediately presented with a book con- 
 taining them with the notes and music, and 
 when he had shown his admiration for the jig 
 the banjoists had played, one of the latter pro- 
 posed copying it, and promised to send it to 
 him. Altogether, Mr. Hart had a very fine 
 evening, and when he left the car he had made 
 up his mind to talk a certain idea over with his 
 prospective father-in-law, and also see what 
 Mabel thought of it. 
 
 As soon as their guest had left, Ned Bliss 
 thrust his head out from his bunk. 
 
 " If those wild Indians make any noise when 
 they come in to-night, let 's chloroform them," 
 he remarked. " But I say, Buck " (this was 
 addressed to Franklin), " that was a mighty nice 
 chap, that prairie friend of yours." 
 
 Franklin responded sleepily from behind the 
 curtain.
 
 24 A Princetonian. 
 
 " I think I sized him up about right," he 
 said. " He 's got the proper stuff in him, and 
 what is more, I think he 'd play football." 
 
 " Did you notice his neck ? " asked the ban- 
 jo player, who was putting his eyes out trying 
 to read in an upper berth. " He 's a second 
 Hector, am I right, or am I right ? " 
 
 The sound of voices was heard outside just 
 then, and a detachment of the club came in. 
 They evidently did not feel in the mood for 
 " wild Indian " antics, for, seeing that the others 
 were apparently asleep, they went to bed quietly 
 themselves which was wonderful to relate. 
 
 Buck Franklin was as good as his word, how- 
 ever, and in three weeks' time, Newton Wilber- 
 force Hart received a package by mail. It was 
 some old entrance examination papers, notes 
 on text-books, and a catalogue of the Univer- 
 sity. It was this that caused him to broach 
 the subject seriously to Mr. Van Clees, with the 
 result that he was left to decide matters for 
 himself, the usual method in such cases. 
 Mabel had at first objected, but had suddenly 
 changed her mind in rather an unaccountable 
 way.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AB INITIO. 
 
 ON the way up from Princeton Junction as 
 the engine coughed and choked along the 
 marvellous grade, and slid with a grasp about 
 the next-to-impossible curves, Simeon Tolker 
 Congreve, aged eighteen, gazed up and down 
 the car and heartily wished that his mother had 
 not insisted upon accompanying him. 
 
 " It makes one feel so awful young," Simeon 
 was thinking. " It 's more like going to board- 
 ing school than college." 
 
 But he took heart when he saw a sweet-faced 
 matron sitting just in front of him carefully re- 
 arrange the neck-tie of a tall young man with 
 a tendency to growing whiskers. 
 
 " I '11 bet a bean," said Mr. Congreve to him- 
 self, resting his eye on the occupants of the 
 corner seat, " that those two fellows [they had 
 smiled at the neck-tie affair] are sophomores." 
 25
 
 26 A Princetonian. 
 
 It was no credit to Simeon's discernment to 
 make this statement. One of the youths he 
 looked at so enviously had the sophomoric ear- 
 marks, and the other had a new hat-box with 
 his initials plainly marked on the top, which 
 would have pronounced him a junior to the 
 initiated. Each, however, carried a silver- 
 headed stick. 
 
 " There 's my old room," spoke up one of 
 these two as Witherspoon Hall came into sight. 
 He made this remark with the air of returning 
 as an old man to the haunts of his youth. 
 
 " I wired Hiram to meet me at the station 
 and take my bags," said the other. " What do 
 you think of the freshmen ? " 
 
 They glanced boldly into the faces that lined 
 both sides of the car. 
 
 " Fruit," said one of them. " Did you 
 notice the big fellow down the aisle ? He 
 looks as if he might play football, don't you 
 think ? " 
 
 " Pretty good build for it," was the rejoinder. 
 
 Mr. Congreve, who had overheard the con- 
 versation, turned about. Directly behind him 
 sat a broad-shouldered figure. The little black 
 satin tie caught under the bone collar button
 
 Ab Initio. 2 7 
 
 and the cheap straw hat could not detract from 
 the resolute look on the sun-browned face of 
 the young man who gazed thoughtfully out of 
 the window. 
 
 " Hoosier," remarked the sophomore, who 
 had said " fruit " before. 
 
 " Yeppy," was the answer. " Here we are in 
 a minute at the station, old chap." 
 
 After a final struggle to catch its breath, the 
 engine slid along the wooden platform and came 
 to a stop. 
 
 Simeon helped his mother down the steps 
 and noticed as he did so that the young man 
 with the black tie was directly behind him. 
 Firmly grasped in his big-knuckled right hand 
 was a brand new imitation leather bag the 
 kind peddlers carry, and a worn paper bundle 
 was under his arm. 
 
 " We had better call on the President first," 
 said Mrs. Congreve, brushing the dust from her 
 sleeves, and giving her son's shoulder a tap. 
 " I want to meet him. You must have a dry, 
 airy room, Simeon, dear." 
 
 There were a number of youths in orange- 
 and-black caps waiting at the station. When 
 they saw the two young men, who carried
 
 28 A Princetonian. 
 
 walking sticks, they came up and slapped them 
 on the back. 
 
 "Hullo, Jack Hullo, old boy Hullo, Clark 
 Hullo, fellows ! Hullo, Hollingsworth ! " 
 There was a studied carelessness in the dress 
 of the welcomers and a pronounced partiality 
 for pipe-smoking and corduroy trousers. 
 
 The freshmen stepped about them quite con- 
 scious of being contemptuously gazed upon, 
 and the noisy hackmen gobbled up bags and 
 boxes. Two short Jehus with fat, bull-dog 
 faces called the sophomores by name and 
 were scorned in return for it. Some colored 
 room-servants were waiting also to take up 
 anything thrown at them. " Hiram " was 
 conspicuous. 
 
 As the train backed out like a ferry-boat from 
 a slip, the broad-shouldered stranger with the 
 paper bundle was left standing alone. 
 
 The group of young men in orange-and-black 
 caps had given a cheer for something or other, 
 and now gathered about the tall figure. 
 
 " Glad to see ye in taeown," said one of the 
 corduroy-clad young gentlemen with a good 
 imitation of a " Shore Acre " accent. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said the " Hoosier," look-
 
 Ab Initio. 29 
 
 ing up at the campus. " Can you tell me where 
 I would find the college officers ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed," was the answer, " we are all 
 going over that way. Have you come to pay 
 our honored college a visit, or do you intend to 
 enroll your name as an applicant for the degree 
 of A.S.S.?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied the broad-shouldered 
 young man, who towered above the crowd 
 around him, " I Ve come to try for the exami- 
 nations." 
 
 A fox terrier with a roguish black eye had 
 been sniffing around his trousers. He bent 
 down and patted the dog as he picked up his 
 bag. 
 
 " You had a very narrow escape with your 
 life," said another young man, who had drawn 
 back with an assumption of horror, " that dog 
 likes fresh meat." 
 
 " Pooh ! He looks good-natured," said the 
 " Hoosier," tweaking the dog's ear. He did 
 not seem to be at all overcome by his sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 The party crossed a desert of cinders and 
 loose gravel and climbed some worn stone steps 
 up to the campus.
 
 30 A Princetonian. 
 
 " What building is that, sir ? " asked the 
 freshman, looking at the great mass of Wither- 
 spoon, in whose windows could be seen seated 
 a number of flannel-clad figures who shouted 
 down to the group on the path. 
 
 "That 's Gee- Whiz Hall. You had better 
 apply for a room there. Don't let 'em bluff 
 you. Insist on getting one. What State are 
 you from ? " 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I 'm from Nebraska. West- 
 ern part Oakland. Guess you never heard 
 of it." 
 
 Baiting a freshman who was so oblivious to 
 his terrible position afforded little pleasure to 
 his inquisitors, and, besides, he was so big that 
 there was not much fun in it any way. Some 
 one pointed out the college offices, and the 
 group left him. 
 
 " That fellow 's no fool, I can tell you," said 
 one. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a neck and shoulders 
 in your life, and he 's got a hand like a ham," 
 said another. 
 
 " Perhaps he can fill Greene's place at guard," 
 observed a third. " Greene 's not coming back,
 
 Ab Initio. 31 
 
 you know. Going to get married or something 
 just our luck, is n't it?" 
 
 In the meantime the object of their conver- 
 sation had entered the little building where the 
 Registrar held court. Here he found that a 
 cheap room in Edwards Hall had already been 
 engaged for Newton Wilberforce Hart, and that 
 Franklin was evidently looking out for him.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM. 
 
 IT was toward the latter half of the first en- 
 trance examination all was silence and gloom 
 within and sunshine and shouting without 
 baseballs were in the air and a very amateur 
 battery was practising beneath the window. 
 
 Congreve looked about the room. He had 
 just printed Q. E. D. in very large letters at the 
 end of a labyrinth of algebraic signs and 
 formulae. He was quite sure in his own mind 
 that he was entirely wrong, but, nevertheless, 
 Q. E. D. looked well in place. 
 
 In the next seat to him, writing with a long 
 gold pencil attached to his heavy watch chain, 
 was a short young man, very natty in dress, 
 with a big pearl horse-shoe in his spotted neck- 
 tie. He had nearly finished his paper, and he 
 occasionally shuffled with his feet. At last he 
 looked at his huge gold watch, and, despite the 
 32
 
 Quod Erat Demonstrandum. 33 
 
 fact that the time was quite evident by a glance 
 at the face, he pressed a spring and the hour 
 rang out in the repeater's musical tinkling 
 notes. So still was the room that the sound 
 was quite audible, and even the professor, 
 seated cross-legged on the platform, looked up. 
 The young man closed the watch with a snap, 
 heaved a sigh, and, walking down the aisle, was 
 the first to give in his papers. Inscribed in a 
 bold hand on the outside sheet was, " L. Putney 
 Betts, New York, New York." 
 
 There was a flutter as he passed. 
 
 Once outside the door, he paused and drew 
 a cigarette from a silver case. 
 
 " Dead easy," he said : " struck four out of 
 five. Knew 'em by heart." Then he chuckled, 
 " There 's nothing like having a professor's 
 brother for a tutor," he remarked to himself ; 
 " there 's where I had a great head." 
 
 But to return to the busy room again. 
 
 The big freshman was seated in one of the 
 back seats. His brow was wrinkled and he had 
 run his fingers so often through his hair that it 
 stood up from his head in all directions like an 
 aurora. At last, however, he wrote his name 
 carefully in the right-hand corner of his paper 
 
 3
 
 34 A Princetonian. 
 
 and walked to the professor's desk. The latter 
 glanced up from his book, and turned the paper 
 about so as to read the signature. It read 
 Newton Wilberforce Hart, Oakland, Nebraska. 
 
 Mr. Congreve, who had been drawing a pic- 
 ture of a yacht on the arm of the seat, grew 
 nervous ; several more candidates had gone out 
 of the room. He glanced at the questions 
 again. To his delight Simeon Tolker remem- 
 bered having once had the next problem given 
 him at St. Paul's. He wrote Q. E. D. a little 
 bit larger and, if anything, more distinctly than 
 before ; and now there seemed to be an epi- 
 demic of finishing ; figure after figure left their 
 seats and the pile of little white pamphlets on 
 the professor's desk grew taller and taller. 
 
 Soon only a dozen or so were left and there 
 was but one problem for Mr. Congreve to 
 answer. A short thick-set youth with eye- 
 glasses was drumming on his teeth with the end 
 of his lead pencil. As he caught Congreve's 
 eye, he winked and shook his head hopelessly ; 
 at last, however, he dashed his name on the 
 paper with a flourish, yawned extravagantly, and 
 sauntered slowly down the aisle. Congreve was
 
 Quod Erat Demonstrandum. 35 
 
 at his heels. When they emerged into the sun- 
 light, the latter turned and spoke : 
 
 " Stickler, was n't it ? " 
 
 " Mucilaginous," replied the young man 
 with glasses ; " I hope he doesn't send mine to 
 Puck." 
 
 " It 's a funny thing how you can forget now, 
 is n't it? My name is Congreve." 
 
 " And mine is Golatly," replied the other. 
 
 They shook hands. In another moment 
 there was quite a group about the door-way, 
 and after a short discussion upon the exami- 
 nation, the freshmen strolled off in groups of 
 three and four. 
 
 L. Putney Betts had been fortunate enough 
 to secure a room in University Hall. As he 
 had already been in Princeton for the past week 
 tutoring, it was quite habitable. There were 
 yachting pictures and English sporting prints 
 all over the walls. A handsome mahogany 
 cigar box with silver handles rested upon the 
 table. The room was rilled with blue smoke 
 and the odor of very excellent tobacco. The 
 window seat was packed with young men who
 
 36 A Princetonian. 
 
 appeared to be very much at home. It was 
 ten o'clock at night. 
 
 Three or four uncomfortable-looking figures 
 sat about in chairs. A roar of laughter broke 
 out and even the uncomfortable figures joined 
 in. 
 
 The occasion of the merriment, Terence Go- 
 latly, emerged from the bedroom. He was in 
 charge of a pudding faced individual who wore 
 an orange-and-black Tarn O'Shanter. 
 
 " As Master of Ceremonies, gentlemen, I beg 
 to introduce this promising little boy who will 
 talk of politics in his native city, Newark," said 
 the fat sophomore. 
 
 Freshman Golatly was attired in a dressing 
 gown and had on his head a waste-paper basket, 
 shaped like an Uncle Sam's beaver hat. If this 
 was hazing, there was nothing cruel in it he 
 apparently was enjoying his position as much as 
 the rest. 
 
 L. Putney Betts nervously passed the hand- 
 some cigar box. 
 
 There is no use recording Mr. Golatly 's ora- 
 torical outburst ; but in the midst of it there 
 was an interruption. Three or four freshmen 
 entered the room, and among them the broad-
 
 Quod Erat Demonstrandum. 3 7 
 
 shouldered man from Nebraska. He glanced 
 awkwardly around, declined a cigar, and leaned 
 back in the corner. 
 
 " That will do," said some one from the win- 
 dow seat, after the young man from Newark 
 had rambled on at some length ; " let 's, let 's 
 try what somebody else can do for us." He 
 approached one of the figures seated against 
 the wall. 
 
 " Dance, sing, or tell a story. What 's your 
 name? " he said. 
 
 " My name is James," was the answer. The 
 speaker was a slim, sharp-featured lad with deep- 
 set eyes like a young hawk's. He was sun- 
 burned and had a keen air about him. His 
 fingers showed the marks of the base-ball 
 player. " Oh, I say," he replied, " I 'm no 
 good at anything of that kind, or I would do 
 it in a minute. Ask some one else. 
 
 " Try the large infant in the corner," came 
 another suggestion from one of the visitors. 
 Thus publicly dared, the sophomore walked up 
 to Hart. 
 
 " Come, come," he said, " let 's see what 
 you 're good for. Do a stunt, you son of Anak." 
 
 Mr. Hart appeared quite embarassed. It all
 
 38 A Princetonian. 
 
 seemed very foolish to him, though he tried to 
 smile good-humoredly, but there was a nervous 
 twinkle in his eyes that should have been a 
 warning. 
 
 " This, ladies and gentlemen, is Huckleberry 
 John, the Hoosier Giant. You will find him 
 pleasing and affable in conversation. He also 
 has his photographs for sale," began the sopho- 
 more. Encouraged by the success of this at- 
 tempt to be amusing, the orator bowed. " Bow, 
 John," he said, and struck the tall man from 
 Oakland a sharp blow on the back of the head, 
 and just here something happened ! Where it 
 came from the assumed showman never knew, 
 but there seemed to be an explosion before his 
 eyes, and he went backwards across the room, 
 bringing down a chair, and upsetting two of his 
 classmates who had seated themselves on the 
 edge of the sofa. There was a dead silence, 
 and Hart was the first to break it. He had 
 partially taken off his coat, but he slipped it 
 on again hurriedly. His face was very white, 
 and he spoke with an effort. 
 
 " I did n't mean to hit you so hard," he said, 
 "but you made me mad cuffing a fellow like 
 that, no fun in it."
 
 Quod Erat Demonstrandum. 39 
 
 It would have been all right if it had not 
 been for the foolhardiness of the discomfited 
 sophomore. As soon as he regained his 
 feet, he picked up a small book from the 
 table, and hurled it with all his might. It 
 caught Hart squarely in the forehead. Every- 
 one gasped, but the tall figure walked over to 
 where the now frightened crowd were gathered 
 in the window seat. 
 
 " Get out of this ! I have had enough of all 
 of you," he said." " Get out ! " 
 
 This was a nice way for a freshman to ad- 
 dress members of the class above him. No one 
 stirred, and there was an uncomfortable silence. 
 " Clear out ! " said Hart again, a little louder. 
 
 He stretched out one big hand and caught 
 the sophomore nearest to him by the back of 
 his coat. This lad had played on his class 
 football team, and he ducked and grabbed the 
 freshman by the knees. Then commenced 
 what was described as a " rukus " in resound- 
 ing Alexandrines from the pen of Mr. Terence 
 Golatly and spoken by him on many occasions 
 afterwards. 
 
 At once there was a rush made by the un- 
 bidden guests. They swarmed at the big fresh-
 
 40 A Princetonian. 
 
 man valiantly. The swaying crowd backed 
 against L. Putney Betts's centre-table and over 
 went the drop-light and fine cigar box. 
 
 It was dark as a pocket. Some one ran 
 down the hall-way and thumped upon the 
 door, for the noise had startled the dwellers 
 in the rooms along the corridor. 
 
 " Here 's Mat ! Here 's Mat ! " they shouted, 
 and joined in the pounding. 
 
 In the darkness and confusion a deep purring 
 voice was heard. 
 
 " What 's going on here ? Let me in ! Stop 
 it there ! " 
 
 The door opened and a burly figure forced 
 its way through the crowd. 
 
 Well known, well liked, and feared, Matt 
 Goldie, the proctor, had hardly ever failed to 
 stop or quell any disturbance by the mere in- 
 tervention of his presence. But this occasion 
 was an exception. 
 
 To and fro in the darkness surged the strug- 
 gling mass. Matt extended his great arms. 
 
 " Stop this right here," he cried, " or you 
 will be all up before the faculty ! Do you hear 
 what I say ! " 
 
 He had grasped two of the combatants and 
 tossed them to either side, when, suddenly, he
 
 Qtcod Erat Demonstrandum. 4 1 
 
 himself was caught by a strong pair of arms 
 and down he went. 
 
 Some one struck a match. It went out at 
 once. But in the brief spurt of light those 
 around had caught a glimpse of a battle royal 
 on the floor. 
 
 The sophomores had withdrawn from the 
 fight and had retreated into the hall, but Hart, 
 blind with rage, was grappling with one who 
 had been reckoned only a few years before as 
 the strongest man in Princeton. 
 
 A second match was struck and the drop 
 light held in L. Putney Betts's trembling hands 
 was lit. Straining like two fighting bulls were 
 the proctor and the ex-deputy-sheriff, trying to 
 roll from under the table. 
 
 " Who are you ? " asked Hart, unclasping his 
 fingers to get a stronger grip upon his oppon- 
 ent's collar. 
 
 " I ,am the proctor of the college," panted 
 Matt, whose years told upon him. 
 
 " I don't care if you are the President," said 
 Hart, " let go of me or I '11 choke your throat." 
 
 At last they parted cautiously, and getting 
 to their feet stood looking at one another. The 
 crowd in the hall whispered excitedly. 
 
 " What is your name ? " panted Matt.
 
 42 A Princetonian. 
 
 Hart gave it in full, but his spirit sank within 
 him. No one smiled. Was this to be the end 
 of his college career? He thought of the miles 
 he had travelled, of what he had given up. 
 Despair and anger filled his soul. 
 
 " Is this your room ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I have a small room in Edwards." 
 
 The proctor still breathing hard cleared the 
 crowd out of the hallway. The hilarity that 
 had been going on had ceased entirely, and the 
 freshmen were seated silently about. Newton 
 Wilberforce Hart was much depressed. He 
 had straightened his crumpled collar and 
 brushed his torn clothes, and was now twisting 
 his big fingers nervously. Never had he felt 
 so young or so foolish in his life. 
 
 An upper-class man knocked on the door. 
 He had been one of the group who had gath- 
 ered outside. Every one knew him ; his pictures 
 had appeared in the illustrated papers for the 
 last three years Minton, the Half-Back. 
 
 " You had better go over to your room, old 
 chap," he said, addressing Hart ; " I will see if 
 I can't straighten matters out. I would n't 
 hang around here any more, if I were you." 
 
 The big freshman waited a few minutes and
 
 Quod Erat Demonstrandum. 43 
 
 then, accompanied by three or four of his class, 
 he walked across the campus. Another figure 
 joined them at the corner of the observatory 
 "Hullo! don't you remember me; I 'm Bliss 
 met you at the Glee Club car," said a cheerful 
 voice. 
 
 When Hart reached his little room in Edwards, 
 there was some lettering in green painted upon 
 the door. He did not appear to notice what 
 was written there, as the hall was but dimly 
 lighted. 
 
 Bidding his friends good-night, he closed the 
 door behind him and slipped the bolt. 
 
 Simeon Tolker Congreve turned to the others 
 who had accompanied him. He struck a match, 
 lighted a cigarette, and then he saw that the 
 lettering had been done within the last few 
 minutes, for the paint was running. 
 
 The legend ran, " CAVE CANEM ! Do not 
 touch. This animal is dangerous." 
 
 Congreve daubed his finger with the pigment 
 and inscribed beneath, " Q. E. D." "Quod 
 erat demonstrandum, which is a true fact," he 
 added. 
 
 " By the horn spoon, I wish he was rooming 
 with me," said L. Putney Betts.
 
 44 A Princetonian. 
 
 When the others had gone Hart seated him- 
 self on the edge of the narrow little bedstead. 
 He leaned his head forward in his hands. Such 
 a feeling of hopelessness came over him, such a 
 great wave of self-pity and remorse (that he had 
 ever been foolish enough to imagine that a man 
 of his age could adapt himself to a college ex- 
 istence) overwhelmed him to the extent that 
 he could hardly control the bitter curses that 
 came to his lips. 
 
 All at once there was a knock on the door. 
 Hart arose. There was a devilish expression 
 in his face. It would have gone hard for any 
 sophomore who would have dared to put his 
 head inside that room. 
 
 " By the Lord, I '11 kill 'em," said the West- 
 erner, through his clenched teeth. " Who 's 
 there ? " he called aloud. 
 
 " It 's I, Franklin," was the answer. " Don't 
 you remember? Omaha, you know." 
 
 Hart dropped the little poker which he had 
 taken from the fireplace and opened the door. 
 
 "Come in," he said, with an effort to be 
 polite. 
 
 Franklin noticed, however, that Hart's hand 
 was shaking nervously as he turned up the sin-
 
 Quod Erat Demonstrandum. 45 
 
 gle gas-jet. He seated himself in the only 
 chair, and Hart leaned back against the bare 
 mantelpiece. 
 
 " Well," said Franklin at last, seeing that he 
 was expected to speak first, " how did you pass 
 to-day's examinations, and what do you think 
 of it?" 
 
 " I wish to God I had never come," said the 
 ex-deputy-sheriff ; " this is no place for a man 
 like me. Why," he added, half smiling and 
 yet angry at the recollection, " they treated 
 me like a pesky tender-fcot. I got riled up 
 and got into a rukus with the proctor of the 
 college, I believe. I expect I shall be expelled 
 in the morning. Expelled ! " He laughed 
 bitterly. " There 's a fine rocket for you. But 
 I 'm very much obliged for all you 've done 
 for me, I 'm sure." 
 
 Franklin stood up. He stepped over and 
 put one hand on Hart's shoulder, but there 
 was no patronizing in the action. 
 
 " Look here, old man," he said, " now don't 
 get disgusted. I went through this same thing 
 when I came here, and you may have it for a 
 week, but don't give up. The most of these 
 fellows are not so old as you and I, and look
 
 46 A Princetonian. 
 
 at things very differently. You 've got to put 
 up with some of it there 's a lot else that will 
 make amends. After what happened to-night 
 you '11 never be bothered again. But you must 
 not be above things at the first, whether you 
 like them or not. You will have to enter in 
 somehow and have them over with." 
 
 "I don't exactly understand you," said 
 Hart. 
 
 " Well, just for instance," said Franklin, 
 " there are things that freshmen are expected 
 to do. Why, Heaven knows, but they Ve 
 always been done. They steal the clapper out 
 of the bell. They paste what they term ' proc- 
 lamations ' all over the scenery, and very often 
 they behave like hyenas. Now, it is not neces- 
 sary for you to lead in any of this, you see, but 
 you 're a freshman, you know, and your class 
 would not like to be sneered at by one of its 
 own members. After a few weeks, or a month 
 or so, you '11 have begun to make your friends. 
 Then you can pick out a line of action for 
 yourself. But if there 's any way that you can 
 help without doing any harm, pitch in ! It 
 may be amusing or not ; but then it 's a sort of 
 a duty. Now the cane spree "
 
 Quod Er at Demonstrandum. 47 
 
 " What 's a cane spree? " inquired Hart. 
 
 " Well," said Franklin, " the sophs pick out 
 three men from their class, and you pick out 
 three men from yours. They catch hold of a 
 stick and see who can get it. Of course, you '11 
 be chosen." 
 
 " Give me a chance," said Hart, grimly. 
 
 Franklin laughed. "You'll get it. You'll 
 get your stick, too, old man," he said. 
 
 At this moment there came another knock 
 on the door. 
 
 " That 's Minton," said the senior, as the 
 half-back came into the room. 
 
 " Hullo, Buck," he said ; " I 've fixed things 
 all right with Matt. There '11 be no report 
 made of that affair. Matt thinks you 're a 
 ' dindy,' " he said, turning to Hart. 
 
 " Hope I did n't hurt him," said the latter. 
 
 " That 's just what he said about you," re- 
 plied the half-back, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, I guess I 'm all right." 
 
 A voice was heard at this juncture in the 
 hallway. " Throw him down, McCloskey," 
 sung in quick-march time, echoed along the 
 walls. 
 
 " Here comes Noisy Tom," said Franklin ;
 
 48 A Princetonian. 
 
 and Tommy Wilson appeared on the door- 
 sill. 
 
 "Hullo, you Ve not forgotten me?" he 
 exclaimed, coming into the room, with the 
 chorus of the song still on his lips. " Don't 
 you remember in the Glee Club car in Omaha 
 you told me that I imitated a jackass more suc- 
 cessfully than any man you ever met." 
 
 They all laughed and Tommy began to talk 
 torrents of words. Hart found himself feeling 
 much more at ease, and when they had all 
 shaken hands with him, he bade them good- 
 night and went to bed, relieved of much of the 
 bitterness that he had felt an hour or so previ- 
 ously. But he dreamed that Matt, the proctor, 
 was gunning for him with a revolver, and that 
 Mabel had come on all the way from Oakland 
 to tell him to " look out for himself." 
 
 He was awakened the next morning by the 
 ringing of the chapel bell, and as he walked 
 along the pathway he was conscious that he was 
 being pointed out. He had that uncomfortable 
 feeling that people of retiring dispositions have 
 when they are being talked about. 
 
 After the services were over he was joined by 
 several young fellows whom he recognized as
 
 Quod Erat Demonstrandum. 49 
 
 his own classmates, and who apparently es- 
 teemed it quite an honor to walk over with 
 him toward the hall in which he was to attend 
 his first recitation.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WORK, STUFF, AND NONSENSE. 
 
 A WEEK went by ; a week that meant a great 
 deal to many members of the freshman class, 
 but to none more than it did to Newton Hart. 
 Much to his surprise he found that he had 
 passed all of his examinations with the excep- 
 tion of one, in which he had received a partial 
 condition. He was congratulated by Franklin 
 and by all of the young men whom he had met 
 upon the Glee Club trip, finding to his delight 
 that they remembered him and apparently were 
 glad to see him. 
 
 He thought of telegraphing the news of his 
 having passed the examinations to Oakland, 
 but he remembered that possibly Mabel would 
 not understand, and then rates were high. So 
 he wrote a long letter, which, if it had been 
 read between the lines, would have decided 
 one that Mr. Hart had not altogether settled 
 5
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 5 1 
 
 the question whether he had done wisely or 
 foolishly in coming to college. Another thing 
 would have been apparent that he was really 
 rather homesick. 
 
 The expenses that he found he had to incur 
 were much less than he had had any idea of, 
 but friends had been working for him, and he 
 found that Franklin and Tommy Wilson had 
 secured for him an eating club (where he did 
 not have to wait on the table, but only kept the 
 accounts), and for this small trouble his board- 
 ing dues were remitted. 
 
 The rent of the small room at Edwards 
 amounted to very little ; and the furniture 
 had been purchased fifth or sixth hand at one 
 of the college shops. 
 
 Hart was the first in the recitation rooms and 
 the last to leave. He took notes of the profess- 
 ors' lectures with a seriousness that was flatter- 
 ing and which in a freshman is bound to attract 
 attention. In fact, merely on account of his age 
 and personal appearance he had been discussed 
 by the members of the faculty, and it might be 
 said that they as a body had their eyes upon him. 
 
 Another thing had happened which was of 
 great importance. He was now president of his
 
 52 A Princetonian. 
 
 class. This was the result of rather unusual cir- 
 cumstances. At the first class meeting, the 
 freshmen, not knowing one another, were gen- 
 erally disturbed by the sophomores, who crept 
 in to upset the proceedings, if possible. Hart's 
 figure and his age marked him at once, as we 
 have said, among his classmates. He had en- 
 tered the room in which the meeting was being 
 held and found perfect pandemonium. Young 
 men were jumping up all over the room, some 
 standing on chairs. The meeting was presided 
 over by a junior, who lacked the qualifications 
 necessary to enforce either silence or respect. 
 He was rapping upon the desk with a black- 
 board eraser, which only sufficed to enclose him 
 in a chalky cloud. 
 
 Hart stood in the background for a minute 
 until something that was being said got his ear. 
 He was well up in parliamentary law. 
 
 "That 's not the way to go about it," he re- 
 marked to a slim, pale-featured youth alongside 
 of him. " Why don't they stop all this talk and 
 propose nominations and organize. Let some 
 one have the floor." 
 
 " Get up and tell them," said the slim youth, 
 "you can do it."
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 53 
 
 Hart stood on a chair. " Gentlemen ! " he 
 began. 
 
 The effect was quite wonderful. He hushed 
 the gathering as if they had been children 
 (which some of them really were), and to his 
 surprise Hart found himself talking in a low 
 voice, but with intense determination in every 
 gesture of his heavy hand. Order began to 
 reign, and when three or four intruding sopho- 
 mores, who had been the cause of the uproar, 
 had been unceremoniously bundled out of the 
 room, the chairman announced that nominations 
 were in order for President. Three or four 
 jumped to their feet at once. 
 
 " I nominate that man," said a little shrill- 
 voiced boy who managed to get the word in 
 first. He pointed his finger at Hart. " I don't 
 know the gentleman's name," he said, " but it 
 seems to me he '11 do." 
 
 There was a stamping of feet and an in- 
 coherent cheer. 
 
 And thus it happened that Newton Wilber- 
 force Hart, of Oakland, Nebraska, had to carry 
 upon his shoulders what he considered a tre- 
 mendous responsibility, for he took it as a most 
 serious matter.
 
 54 A Princetonian. 
 
 An hour after the meeting, as he was puzzling 
 over a Greek verb in his room, he stopped and 
 thought. It was not a conceited thought that 
 had flashed across his mind ; but it was this : 
 He might be here for something after all ! He 
 could see that his experience was bound to help 
 him. He had felt somehow that these lads, so 
 much younger than himself, were looking to 
 him to help them through, for he had come to re- 
 gard the freshman year as a very difficult term 
 of service. He longed in truth for the com- 
 forts that upper-class men seemed to possess 
 in being able to mind their own business, if 
 nothing else. Yet, although a great deal of the 
 hubbub appeared froth and foolishness to him, 
 he had ceased to hold it all in such contempt. 
 
 Since his first night in college no one had 
 attempted to haze or interfere with him. A 
 few whistlings and remarks upon the campus 
 he had ignored entirely. But he was to indulge 
 in one little escapade (which was long after- 
 wards remembered, by the way), and as this 
 makes a story in itself, it may be brought in 
 without really being a digression, before we go 
 deeply into any one's personal history. 
 
 Congreve, Golatly, and L. Putney Betts, who
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 55 
 
 had attached themselves to Hart, and who 
 apparently were glad to be seen with him, lived 
 in University Hall. If there was any trouble 
 or mischief afoot in the freshman class, Matt, 
 the proctor, had learned by short experience 
 to put their names down first on his list of 
 suspects. Their motto was happily expressed 
 by Mr. Golatly when he said : " What is the 
 use of living, if you are not in it ? " 
 
 But all this brings us to a night when the 
 class of 189- was only three weeks old. There 
 was dead silence down the corridors at Univer- 
 sity Hall, when suddenly it was broken by the 
 sound of a low thick voice : 
 
 " Ged oop ! Ged oop ! in dere." 
 
 Then followed some incoherent words, and 
 there was a rapping on freshman Congreve's 
 door. It was Steve, the old German night- 
 watchman, ally of all the freshmen in University 
 Hall. 
 
 Hearing the racket, Congreve started up in 
 bed. " Heavens ! What 's happened ? " he 
 said to himself, throwing off the blankets. 
 
 " Ged oop quivickly," came in mumbling 
 accents from the hallway. " Vat is de matter
 
 56 A Princetonian. 
 
 in dere ! Vy dond you ged oop, Mr. Con- 
 greve ? " 
 
 " It may be a fire," Congreve said to himself, 
 his heart beginning to thump loudly. 
 
 It was pitch dark and two o'clock in the 
 morning the clock struck the hour just as he 
 opened the door. 
 
 " De sophomores are gedding out the progla- 
 mations," said Steve in a whisper that could be 
 heard at the end of the corridor. 
 
 At first the meaning did not penetrate Con- 
 greve's sleep-muddled brain. Finally, however, 
 he remembered what it meant. He, Betts, 
 Terence, Golatly, and Jimmie James, freshmen 
 of course, and as yet in good standing before 
 the faculty, had gone down to Trenton three 
 or four times in the last week to see about the 
 printing of their own class utterances of de- 
 fiance ; wherein the members of the class above 
 them were decried and slurred upon in a jumble 
 of incoherent and turgid English. The sopho- 
 mores generally began this little game and the 
 printers profited. 
 
 As these notices were addressed to the world 
 in general, and often pasted upon long-distance 
 freight cars, they probably had puzzled many
 
 Work, Stuff > and Nonsense. 5 7 
 
 who had never heard of the College of New 
 Jersey. 
 
 " Have you told Mr. Betts ? " inquired Con- 
 greve, putting his suspenders over his night- 
 robe. 
 
 " He is oop, yes, ten minutes," said Steve ; 
 " told me to come and vake you if I could." 
 
 Congreve hurried into a coat, and going down 
 the hallway found Betts dressing in the dark. 
 
 " Now get the others out," the latter said 
 without a word of greeting, " you know the 
 juniors told us to do it quietly. " Let 's go 
 over and get old ' Cave Canum ' and make him 
 fuss for us." 
 
 " Have you got the procs ? " inquired Con- 
 greve. 
 
 " Here 's a bale of 'em," said Betts, hauling 
 out a long bundle from under the bed. " I 
 have made fresh stickum every night for the 
 last three days, and I have got it in the bath- 
 room, by the great horn spoon ! " 
 
 He disappeared, and Congreve heard him 
 stumbling about. Suddenly there was a howl, 
 a plash, and the sound of muttering. 
 
 Betts's bathroom consisted of a closet, on the 
 floor of which was a big hat tub. In the dark-
 
 58 A Princetonian. 
 
 ness he had stepped upon the edge, and the 
 tub had sprung up at him. 
 
 Congreve began to laugh. " You 're a prize 
 jay," he remarked into the depths of the closet. 
 
 " Feel me, I 'm soaking wet," was all Betts 
 said when he emerged. 
 
 Congreve went off into another fit of laughter. 
 " Had n't you better mop it up ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, let it go," replied Betts ; " we have n't 
 time. Here, take the magoo." 
 
 After producing a complete bill-poster's out- 
 fit from the lower bureau drawer, the two con- 
 spirators stole down the stairway. 
 
 It was a mild September night. There was a 
 deal of dampness in the air, and so dark was it 
 that they could hardly see the path before 
 them as they walked across the campus. 
 
 " When we get over to ' Gentle ' Hart's, we 
 will divide our forces," said freshman Betts. 
 "Always divide your forces, you know, for 
 strategy's sake." 
 
 They entered the hallway at Edwards and 
 stole carefully down to the room that had the 
 legend in green paint, " Cave canum ! " upon the 
 panels. Congreve knocked softly with the 
 back of his finger nails and they were admitted.
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 59 
 
 Three or four of their classmates had gathered 
 there. The gas was burning low, and a blanket 
 had been tacked up at the narrow little window. 
 Charles Townes, a pursy youth from Washing- 
 ton, D. C., was seated on the edge of the bed, 
 He was yawning. "Gentle" Hart was drawing 
 on a pair of cowhide boots. Jimmie James, 
 " the Hawk-Faced Man," as he was called, was 
 pulling away at a corncob pipe. As the others 
 entered the room questions were fired and 
 answered in hoarse whispers. 
 
 The sophomores had been seen a half hour 
 ago, and one of their proclamations was pasted 
 on the side of the railway station. Charlie 
 Townes had read it himself with the aid of a 
 match. 
 
 " Why did n't you tear it down ? " asked 
 Terence Golatly, who had just come in. 
 
 " It had such a good thing on you, McFad- 
 den, my boy." 
 
 " I would not take your judgment," said 
 Golatly, " you have no wit." 
 
 " It 's time we were starting, don't you 
 guess ? " said Hart, who treated the whole ex- 
 pedition very seriously. He had, the day after 
 his talk with Franklin, received politely a long
 
 60 A Princetonian. 
 
 lecture from a condescending junior upon 
 proclamation posting and clapper stealing, and 
 seeing that it was placed before him in the light 
 of a duty, he had determined to enter into the 
 venture because it was expected of him ; but 
 his expressed opinion was that it was *' stuff 
 and nonsense." 
 
 L. Putney Betts was chosen to lay out the 
 plan of campaign, and at once sent one of the 
 group around to rouse up a dozen or so of the 
 larger freshmen and tear down the proclama- 
 tions of the enemy, while he and his party de- 
 voted themselves to placing the counter-irritant 
 in conspicuous places. 
 
 On the top of the hill to the southward of 
 the Theological Seminary was the iron water- 
 tower of Princeton. It stretched upwards like 
 a huge stove-pipe on a tripod of iron beams 
 and was not an ornament in reckoning up the 
 beauties of the landscape. But it had its uses. 
 
 Some time before, an adventurous freshman 
 had been lowered by his companions at the 
 end of a rope, and had painted his class nu- 
 merals in huge orange and black letters on the 
 side of the iron tank some eighty or ninety 
 feet above the ground. Since then it had be-
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 61 
 
 come the custom for the succeeding classes to 
 paste their proclamations on each side of the 
 huge letters, and every fall some zealot risked 
 his life to perform this sacred duty. 
 
 Down the road in the direction of the water- 
 tower tramped the party in Indian file. On 
 the fence at the roadside near the little church 
 they saw something white and halted. 
 
 After several attempts to strike a light, Betts 
 at last succeeded with the last match in the 
 party, and then read the notice aloud. The 
 nonsensical combinations of words and the 
 comical vituperation appeared to anger him. 
 
 " Tear it down ! Tear the devilish thing 
 down ! " he said, and as it had been but freshly 
 pasted up it came off readily. 
 
 " Save it," said some one, " as an example of 
 dense ignorance." The proclamation began in 
 the same way as did their own : 
 
 " To whom it may concern : Whereas " 
 
 Then on went the little party down the road 
 once more. 
 
 " And born without mark, we all see in the dark, 
 Like owls in a gooseberry tree," 
 
 hummed Mr. Golatly, as they climbed a fence 
 and went across the meadow.
 
 62 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Hush ! " said the ex-deputy, suddenly ; 
 " Don't you hear voices ? " They listened. 
 Sure enough. Some one was talking, and the 
 sound came from up in the air, above their 
 heads. Before them loomed the great shape of 
 the iron tower. 
 
 " They are at work now," said Congreve, in 
 an excited whisper. Just then a light was 
 struck by some one standing at the bottom of 
 the ladder, which climbed a leg of the tripod 
 and then stretched along the perpendicular 
 sides of the great cylinder itself. The match 
 was used to light a pipe, and the watchers by 
 the fence saw that there was only one figure at 
 the bottom. 
 
 " If we could only get hold of him," said 
 Betts, " without the others knowing it, eh ! " 
 
 " Let 's try it," said Hart, in a whisper. 
 
 All at once the conversation between the top 
 of the tower and the figure at the bottom of 
 the ladder became more audible. 
 
 " Send up that paste, Reddy," called a voice 
 from the sky. 
 
 " Y-y-you Ve got it y-y-yourself," stuttered 
 the voice from below. 
 
 " No, we have n't," from the top of the tower.
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 63 
 
 " W-w-well, I-I have n't s-s-seen it," came 
 from below again. 
 
 There was some consultation, and a few angry 
 words from the top. Then another hail. 
 
 " Chump says he left it at the fence. I 've 
 got half a mind to throw him ofT." There were 
 some more words. 
 
 " Th-th-throw him off," said the figure at the 
 bottom. There was no answer to this, and a 
 long silence followed. 
 
 " That 's the little red-headed Smart Aleck 
 that was at the ' Prep ' with me two years 
 ago," whispered Golatly. " Hush ! they 're 
 speaking again." 
 
 " Go find that paste, Reddy, you jackass ! " 
 came the order in the voice that had done all 
 the talking from the sky. 
 
 The short figure with the pipe stammered 
 something in reply, and grumblingly stumbled 
 down the path to where the party of freshmen 
 were lying beneath the fence. As he threw his 
 leg over the top rail he was grasped in a pair of 
 mighty arms. 
 
 It was one of the peculiarities of the red- 
 headed one's impediment of speech that when 
 excited he became absolutely tongue-tied, and
 
 64 A Princetonian. 
 
 he carefully avoided allowing his feelings to 
 get the better of him. For this same reason 
 now he was so surprised that he could not 
 utter a word, and the freshman from Nebraska, 
 taking him at such a disadvantage, hurried 
 down the road. He carried the little sopho- 
 more as if he were a bag of meal. 
 
 Then led by freshman Betts, the rest of the 
 party stepped quickly forward to the base of 
 the water-tower. A white bundle was lying 
 there on the ground. 
 
 " Jove ! It 's their own proclamations," 
 whispered Golatly in Congreve's ear. 
 
 " Are you down there, Reddy ? Where 's 
 that paste ? " 
 
 " A-a-all right ! " answered Golatly, with a 
 good imitation of the stutterer, " S-s-send down 
 a r-r-rope." 
 
 " It 's hanging alongside the ladder, you bally 
 idiot ! " said the voice. 
 
 There, sure enough, was a stout cord reach- 
 ing almost to the ground, and within easy 
 reach. 
 
 " P-p-paste on s-s-six," stammered Mr. Go- 
 latly, tying a bundle of his own class proclama- 
 tions at the end of the string. Then he attached
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 65 
 
 the freshman paste-pot, and the party on top 
 hauled them up. In the darkness the papers 
 looked much alike, the only difference being 
 that the sophomore effusion was printed in 
 dark-green ink, instead of black. 
 
 " All O.K.," came the answer from the top 
 of the tower. 
 
 " Say, you fellows, I-I-I 'm going back to the 
 college," stuttered Golatly, nudging Congreve, 
 and taking up the bundle of papers from the 
 ground. There were some observations from 
 above, but Mr. Golatly vouchsafed no reply, 
 and in the darkness the party stole back to the 
 road. 
 
 When they reached it, the success of the ex- 
 ploit was too much for them, and Betts fairly 
 rolled m the dirt. 
 
 " Mr Fadden," he said to Golatly, " come to 
 me arms, you 're a jewel ! " 
 
 " I say, you chaps," said Congreve, " let 's 
 tear up their ' procs,' and leave a trail along the 
 road. Oh ! vote me a piano ! " 
 
 It was no sooner said than done, and one of 
 the bundles was divided and the fragments 
 scattered by the roadside. 
 
 They had found the sophomores' bucket of
 
 66 A Princetonian. 
 
 paste at the fence corner, and had also found 
 Hart and his captive seated on the railing of a 
 small bridge across a little brook a full mile 
 down the road. 
 
 " What shall we do with him ? " questioned 
 Hart, removing his arm from the sophomore's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Make him carry the paste. That 's what 
 they would do to one of us," said Congreve. 
 
 " Don't you trust him with it," put in Golat- 
 ly ; " just have him walk along with us for fun. 
 He 's real good company." 
 
 The red-headed one was so angry, and had 
 been so frightened at his captor's seriousness, 
 that he did not feply. They were standing 
 just then beside a high board fence which 
 guarded the property of one of the professors. 
 
 " Let 's begin to put them here," said Con- 
 greve. 
 
 Under the branches of the great pines which 
 extended above the wall, it was darker than 
 ever. They could hardly see the printing. 
 Golatly smothered one with the "stickum," 
 and put it on the boards. A few yards farther 
 down he did the same thing again. The cap- 
 tive meanwhile had been standing close to the
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 67 
 
 fence, smoking furiously, the ember in his pipe 
 glowing like a fierce red eye. A dozen or so of 
 the big pasters were distributed in this manner 
 without any comment. 
 
 "Where shall we put the rest?" said Con- 
 greve, turning to the group, for they had come 
 to the end of the fence. 
 
 " I-I-know a good place," stammered the red- 
 headed one, suddenly. " If you will 1-1-let go 
 of my hand, you g-g-great big stuff, I '11 tell you 
 where it is." 
 
 Hart had been leading him along much as a 
 nurse would take an unruly child out for an 
 airing. 
 
 " Where is it ? " asked Golatly, surprised. 
 
 " T-t-other side of town. You will have to 
 hurry. It 's where we were going to p-p-put 
 ours." 
 
 The big fellow dropped his hand at this trai- 
 torous speech, and the prisoner pulled each of 
 his fingers separately to be sure they were in 
 place, then, with a " Come on, you Fresh ! " he 
 turned down a lane that led them back along 
 the road. 
 
 " I-I-I give you my word of honor, I-I-won't 
 run away," he said, breaking the silence (Hart
 
 68 A Princetonian. 
 
 had transferred his grasp to the collar of his 
 coat) ; " I-I-like you fellows anyhow," he 
 added. 
 
 Truth was, there was a bare chance just then 
 of Reddy's joining their ranks and losing his 
 sophomoric standing through a process of fac- 
 ulty conclusions. But this was not in his mind 
 at the present speaking. 
 
 " It 's a great place. We 'd have never 
 thought of looking here for them," said Con- 
 greve, as their pilot stopped before a building 
 on the right of the road. " By Jove ! How 
 dark it is ! Take care ! This is barbed wire ! " 
 
 The sophomore now appeared quite as eager 
 as the rest at the success of the venture. He 
 held up the strand of sharp points and pointed 
 out good places to paste the proclamation. So 
 black was it that these desecrators of the town- 
 ship seat of learning had to feel their way, but 
 they pasted six of the big papers in conspicu- 
 ous positions and went back into the road. 
 
 " Now there are as-as good places all the way 
 along t-t-toward t-t-town. Please let me go 
 now, I Ve done the best I could," said the soph- 
 omore. 
 
 So at every fence and every gate post they
 
 Work, Stuff, and Nonsense. 69 
 
 left a memento of their journeying. It was 
 growing a bit lighter and they could discern 
 faint streaks in the eastern sky, when suddenly 
 Freshman Simeon Tolker Congreve started as 
 he smoothed out the last poster. 
 
 "Fellows!" he exclaimed, "they are all 
 printed in green ; they 're the sophomores' ! 
 Those were our ' procs ' we tore up ! Great 
 Peter! Are n't we Lulus !" 
 
 " Where 's that red-headed, stuttering ras- 
 cal ? " said Golatly. 
 
 " I don't know," said Hart, from the top of a 
 fence. " He was here a minute ago." 
 
 Then he laughed, but he was the only one 
 who viewed matters in a comical light. 
 
 " We are a pack of fools," said Golatly, seri- 
 ously. " I 'm going to send a bill for my ser- 
 vices." 
 
 Congreve half smiled. " Let 's go back and 
 tear them all down," he said. 
 
 " You don't catch me,"said Hart ; " I 'm going 
 back to bed." 
 
 In the bright morning light the six freshman 
 manifestoes upon the water-tower were the only 
 ones to be seen, but the roadsides were covered 
 with the screeds of their natural and hereditary 
 enemies, only half obliterated.
 
 70 A Princetonian. 
 
 The red-headed sophomore, whose name was 
 Mudge, publicly stated that he had compelled 
 the freshmen to follow his orders by the mere 
 effect of his commanding voice and gesture. 
 
 " M-m-mind over m-m-matter," he said. 
 
 Terence Golatly celebrated the affair at the 
 water-tower in blank verse, and a member of the 
 faculty related the story with gusto at a meet- 
 ing of that august body, where, strange to relate, 
 they often crack jokes and often laugh at such 
 nonsensical foolishness as this.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A CONVERSION. 
 
 THREE days after the posting by proxy, Hart 
 worked off his condition in Greek. 
 
 This really meant more than it seemed ; it 
 left him free to think, and Franklin, who had 
 been coaching him in grammar at odd moments, 
 now insisted on his coming out and trying for 
 the scrub eleven. 
 
 " I came here to work. I did n't come here 
 to play games," Hart stated bluntly. 
 
 " Oh, yes you did," Franklin replied ; " that *s 
 part of your course. Your brains belong to you, 
 but the college has an interest in that thump- 
 ing old back of yours." 
 
 " Well, I don't see it that way," grumbled 
 Hart. " I 'm afraid I 'd get fighting mad if 
 they mauled me the way they did you yester- 
 day. Just look at the side of your jaw." 
 
 " Let not your angry passions rise," hummed 
 71
 
 72 A Princetonian. 
 
 Franklin, rubbing his face. " Look here, old 
 man, you 've got to come down to the 'Varsity 
 grounds and put on a canvas jacket this noon 
 you Ve got to, you know." 
 
 " Oh, get out ! " grunted Hart. 
 
 "But why not?" he kept thinking. Only 
 two or three practice games had he seen and 
 he had no idea that the whole college was 
 waiting for his appearance. Nevertheless, as 
 he had stood at the side lines, he had felt all the 
 excitement of the strong man who watches the 
 struggles of others ; he had itched to try it. 
 
 " I believe I could play that game," he said, 
 looking at Franklin from head to foot. " I 'd 
 just like a chance to put you on your back." 
 He smiled grimly. 
 
 " Good ! that 's the proper spirit," Franklin 
 laughed. " Shake a leg ; it 's time we were 
 starting. You '11 have to play opposite me. 
 I '11 make you hustle." 
 
 Green's football togs were a little bit tight 
 and very stiff and muddy, but Hart managed 
 to squeeze into them, and as he came out of 
 the dressing-room he found a small crowd 
 waiting to " size him up," as Tommy Wilson 
 expressed it.
 
 A Conversion. 73 
 
 There was a grin on the ex-deputy's face, but 
 of course he was a little excited. The grin was 
 occasioned by thinking of what Mabel would 
 say if she could see him now. " Oh ! how funny 
 it all seemed ! " 
 
 " Looks the part," one of the group of pipe- 
 smoking young men observed, as the football 
 men elbowed their way through. 
 
 His class gave him a reckless, uncadenced 
 cheer, at which the sophomores smiled. 
 
 To make a long story short, Hart learned a 
 great deal in the next forty-five minutes. His 
 respect for Franklin wonderfully increased. He 
 played off side and received a curt lecture be- 
 ginning, " I say you," from the scrub captain, 
 without answering back, and two or three times 
 he made a tackle, rather high, of course, but 
 successful. Strange to say, he found that there 
 were so many things to think of that he did 
 not have time to get mad clear through. A 
 graduate player stood behind him coaching 
 every minute, and a wild, fierce excitement 
 came to him, and Franklin made him hustle 
 most convincingly. 
 
 When it was all over, and he was walking 
 back to college with Terence Golatly, Jimmie
 
 74 A Princetonian. 
 
 James, and Betts, Hart delivered himself of the 
 following opinion : 
 
 " Boys," he said slowly, " that 's a great 
 game ; jingo ! Say, really ! I 'm glad I came to 
 college." 
 
 " You 've got to use your think-tank a bit," 
 said Golatly. 
 
 The poor scrub players walked, but the 
 'Varsity men rode in a 'bus. As the clattering, 
 rumbling vehicle went by, Hart made a mental 
 statement that, although unexpressed, is worth 
 recording, " I '11 ride in that shebang soon," he 
 said to himself. 
 
 As the freshmen walked down the path 
 under the arched branches of the elm trees, 
 a gray, bent old man, with a noble head and a 
 kindly smile, stopped and spoke to them. He 
 asked their class and names. 
 
 " Freshman or Sophomore, Junior or Senior," 
 observed Golatly, as they walked on after the 
 short interview, "we 're all old Jimmie's kids." 
 
 It was irreverent in Terence to speak thus of 
 the college president, but his words had an ele- 
 ment of truth.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A RETROSPECTION AND AN INTERRUPTION. 
 
 HART was puzzling over a problem in ge- 
 ometry one evening when the door of his room 
 was pushed open and, without knocking, Ned 
 Bliss, one of his friends in the junior class, 
 entered. 
 
 " I want to congratulate you, old man, on 
 the great game you put up to-day. I say, 
 you Ve got the 'Varsity sure if you keep on. 
 Minton and Elliott were talking about it." 
 
 Hart shuffled his feet. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm beginning to catch on, perhaps," he 
 said, "but there is a lot to learn in everything; 
 is n't there ? " 
 
 " I suppose that 's what we are here for," re- 
 turned Bliss, " but upon my word, I can forget 
 things quicker than any man /know. I hope 
 all I 've forgotten has done me some good. 
 You 're going to the senior dance ? " 
 75
 
 76 A Princetonian. 
 
 11 Had n't thought of it," Hart answered. 
 "What is it?" 
 
 ",Oh, just a dance," said Bliss, taking a seat 
 on a window-sill and drumming with his fingers 
 on the glass. " You had better come. Lots 
 of pretty girls. Care much for dancing ? " 
 
 " Not much," replied Hart. " I can stumble 
 through a quadrille, if some one calls off the 
 figures." 
 
 Bliss smiled. 
 
 " I 've got my sister's card here," he went 
 on ; " you know we fill them out in advance. 
 Would like to put you down for something. 
 We don't have a senior function every year." 
 
 He shoved a little card on Hart's desk. The 
 latter blushed. 
 
 " I don't know that I would be much of a 
 success," he said, looking at the array of waltzes 
 and two-steps mostly filled with the names of 
 upper-class men. 
 
 " There 's a lancers," said Bliss, pointing out 
 one of the few remaining blanks with his finger. 
 " Put your sig down there." 
 
 " You will have to explain," said Hart, as he 
 did so, " that I aint much of a dancer." 
 
 " Well, if you don't want to, you can sit it
 
 A Retrospection and an Interruption. 77 
 
 out," said Bliss. " Anyhow, I am glad to hear 
 you are coming." 
 
 When the junior had left, Hart leaned back 
 and rattled his pencil against his teeth and fell 
 into what Terence Golatly might have called a 
 " trance." 
 
 It was a fine night. The windows of the col- 
 lege rooms were open. The tinkle of a banjo 
 and a snatch of a song occasionally wafted out 
 on the air. Young men stopped before the 
 buildings and hulloed up at the buildings. There 
 was a constant chorus of this from all over the 
 campus. 
 
 " Hull-1-l-o o, Charlie Jackson ! " would come 
 a shout ; then " stick your head out of 
 the window," in one long word. 
 
 This generally resulted in a conversation (in 
 which any one was entitled to join) between 
 the occupants of a second- or third-story room 
 and some one on the ground. 
 
 Hart listened to it all with a sense of unre- 
 ality. A year ago the idea that he could adapt 
 himself to such a life as this would have seemed 
 impossible. His thoughts travelled back to 
 Oakland. He could smell the ham and com- 
 bined odors of Van Clees & Jackson's store.
 
 78 A Princetonian. 
 
 He knew exactly how the square would look. 
 It seemed very long ago and very far away. 
 He felt that he had bidden farewell to it for 
 good and all, and he began in his mind to go 
 yet even farther back to the time he had lived 
 with his father in the little claim shanty on the 
 North Fork of the Platte. He recalled the first 
 book he had read, Wood's Natural History, 
 filled with cuts of wonderful birds and beasts. 
 He remembered how he used to spell out the 
 chapters while he attended to the sheep. He 
 could hear now in his imagination the plaintive 
 first bleats of the new-born lambs. And then 
 the day of the freshet, which carried off almost 
 all of the litttle herd and drowned out the cor- 
 rals, came to him. Then the death of his 
 father all alone in the sod-house, and the 
 weary ride down to the town for help. The 
 grave with the slab of shale for a head-stone, 
 where they had laid the only relative he knew 
 of in the world, to rest. The kindness that had 
 been shown to him by a German family on the 
 next half section was the next remembrance. 
 Then came his apprenticeship to Mr. Van 
 Clees; his attending public school; his grow- 
 ing to be a man, and the awakening of ambi-
 
 A Retrospection and an Interruption. 79 
 
 tions and desires for other things. Oh ! It all 
 seemed very long ago and very far apart, and 
 toward what was he tending now ? Life struck 
 him as a very peculiar game in which little 
 things turned the course of existence into unsus- 
 pected channels a very non-original thought, 
 but he dwelt on it. 
 
 " Hullo, Pop Hart ! " rang out beneath his 
 window. 
 
 The interruption had come just as his thoughts 
 had reached the time when Mabel had first 
 come to occupy his mind. He thrust back the 
 letter that he had half taken from his pocket, 
 addressed to him in Miss Van Clees's round, 
 shaded hand, and walked to the window. 
 
 " Hullo ! " he answered, squeezing through 
 the window. 
 
 " Come out on the campus," was the rejoin- 
 der. " Save the midnight oil, cool your fevered 
 brow, and breathe of liberty." 
 
 It was Terence Golatly, Congeve, and Jimmy 
 James. The light of Mr. Golatly's cigarette 
 gleamed like a firefly below as he waved it in 
 time to his oration. 
 
 Hart turned down the light and put on his 
 shabby wide-awake and joined Terence and the
 
 8o A Princetonian. 
 
 others below on the grass plot. They strolled 
 over in the direction of Old North. Several 
 young men whom he did not recognize in the 
 half-light called Hart by name as they passed 
 him ; he limped slightly, he had received a 
 wrench in the practice game of the morning. 
 
 " How is your ankle, old man ? " inquired 
 some one as they passed a group lying at the 
 foot of one of the great elm trees. 
 
 "All right, thanks," he answered. But a 
 thrill of pleasure went through his veins, for the 
 inquirer was Minton, the half-back. He re- 
 membered feeling the same sensation when 
 Sheriff Holly had congratulated him on the 
 way Bord McGovern had been brought into 
 town.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE HERO OF A TEA-FIGHT. 
 
 THE afternoon before the " senior function," 
 Ned Bliss, Jed Elliott, the football captain, 
 and Minton, the half-back, were walking across 
 the campus. They were dressed in their very 
 best clothes. Two girls were walking in the 
 midst of the little party, which also included 
 Hollingsworth and a small bearded senior with 
 eye-glasses and a pale ascetic countenance. 
 
 Hollingsworth was the only man who wore a 
 silk hat. This of course was the prerogative of 
 the junior, but he alone laid claim to it on this 
 particular afternoon. 
 
 One of the girls was walking ahead ; she was 
 very tall and graceful. She had rather a small 
 head, well set above a pair of splendid shoul- 
 ders, and she stepped like one who enjoyed 
 life. 
 
 Her features were very regular, and her eyes, 
 81
 
 82 A Princetonian. 
 
 that were deep-set, were an honest gray, al- 
 though her hair (she had a wealth of it) was 
 so dark as to be almost black. There was some- 
 thing in her face that resembled Hollingsworth, 
 but in the resemblance a great deal of the pride 
 and the look of rather sneering superiority had 
 been eliminated. Little Miss Bliss, who was 
 walking beside her, was a pretty girl, with that 
 prettiness that is most attractive in the days of 
 early womanhood, and that is prone to change 
 as the spirits are dashed by years or trouble. 
 Her hair curled in a roll above the prominent 
 forehead. Her eyebrows were exquisitely 
 drawn, and as delicate as the lines of a brush 
 stroke. 
 
 " What is the matter with your brother to- 
 day ? " inquired Miss Bliss, looking up at the 
 tall girl, whose shoulder was about even with 
 the top of her head. 
 
 Miss Hollingsworth turned. 
 
 " He is awfully grumpy for some reason or 
 other," she replied. " Probably sat up too 
 late." 
 
 The truth was Mr. Kenmore Hollingsworth 
 had been sitting up too late for a good many 
 nights in succession, and to-day he was rather
 
 The Hero of a Tea- Fight. 83 
 
 angry and disappointed. Not angry at himself 
 that would have been quite impossible to his 
 nature ; but angry at luck, which meant lost 
 money, and disappointed that his father had 
 refused, in a letter received only half an hour 
 ago to allow him to draw three months' allow- 
 ance in advance. 
 
 As they walked past the old chapel that 
 grateful and righteous sentiment had permitted 
 to hold its innocuous existence under the 
 shadow of Nassau Hall, Bliss leaned across his 
 friend Minton, who was walking next to the 
 tall young woman, and spoke in a low tone, 
 interrupting the conversation. 
 
 " Here he comes now," he said. 
 
 The girls looked down the pathway. Two 
 figures were approaching. 
 
 "Who is that chap with him?" inquired 
 Elliott. 
 
 " Oh, he 's a character," returned Bliss. " You 
 see characters get nicknamed very early. That 's 
 Patrick Corse Heaphy ' the young man with 
 a purpose.' " 
 
 Hart and Mr. Heaphy by this time had 
 approached so close that they had stepped off 
 onto the grass to allow the others to go by. As
 
 84 A Princetonian. 
 
 he and his friend lifted their hats the salute was 
 returned with a few words of greeting by all 
 except Hollingsworth, who laughed rather sneer- 
 ingly. 
 
 " That is the funniest-looking freshman I 
 ever saw," he remarked to the senior with the 
 beard. 
 
 The latter, who had not joined in the conver- 
 sation, raised his eyebrows. 
 
 " He looks like a prehistoric Hibernian," he 
 said, " a Stone Age Irishman, get the idea ? 
 Rather fancy there 's good material in that 
 chap, eh ! I '11 draw him out some day." 
 
 The little senior, whose name was Danforth, 
 prided himself upon his deep perceptions. He 
 exalted in individuality, and was the apostle of 
 sensation. It was Danforth's one idea to be 
 not eccentric but original. He laid claim to 
 being a cynic, a pessimist, and an unbeliever. 
 Gifted with a mind that grasped quickly and a 
 power of ready expression, he could have gained 
 honest laurels. His wit was ready, and he drank 
 deeper of learning and liquor and showed it less 
 in appearance than any man on the college 
 roster. 
 
 Mr. Danforth played an extremely good hand
 
 The Hero of a Tea-Fight. 85 
 
 at poker; wrote good verses that were too 
 wicked for the college literary magazine ; and, 
 in his search for artistic sensations, had once 
 smoked hashish behind the locked doors of his 
 room in Witherspoon Hall. 
 
 Now, it was toward Witherspoon Hall that 
 the group turned their steps. Ned Bliss was giv- 
 ing a little tea in his rooms, his mother was to 
 join them, and as an evidence that something 
 unusual was going on, a number of other girls, 
 each accompanied by a few satellites, could be 
 seen walking in the direction of Witherspoon 
 along the college walks. 
 
 As Hart had passed by he had noticed the 
 tall girl, and his eyes had happened to meet the 
 frank glance of the gray eyes. It had affected 
 him so much for the moment that he had paid 
 little attention to what his companion was 
 saying. 
 
 Patrick Corse Heaphy was certainly a char- 
 acter. He sat next to Hart in the class-room, 
 and during the last three or four days the two 
 had struck up quite a friendship. 
 
 As Golatly put it, Mr. Heaphy might " wear 
 a French bonnet but he would never get 
 the map of Ireland off his face." The heavy
 
 86 A Princetonian. 
 
 upper lip, the shock of coarse red hair, and the 
 strong lines to the corners of the mouth would 
 have betrayed him, even without the slight 
 touch of the brogue that was more in the inflec- 
 tion of his sentences than in the pronunciation 
 of his words. 
 
 Hart had been at first rather annoyed by 
 Patrick's attentions, but his earnestness, and the 
 bond of sympathy that comes from serious 
 determinations, had rather awakened a desire 
 for better acquaintance. 
 
 Heaphy's room was a small one not far from 
 Hart's in Edwards Hall. In a rash moment 
 when visited by a sophomoric press gang, Mr. 
 Heaphy had forcibly stated that he had come 
 to college " for a purpose." As he always 
 walked in quick, short steps, as if the purpose 
 was only a few feet in advance and rapidly 
 receding, the sobriquet had stuck to him. 
 
 " That was a pretty young lady," said Hart, 
 interrupting Heaphy's opinions on the morn- 
 ing's lecture in chemistry, "the tall one I 
 mean." 
 
 " I don't get on very well with ladies," re- 
 turned Heaphy. " I never know what to say 
 to them. Do you envy people? "
 
 The Hero of a Tea-Fight. 87 
 
 " I don't know," Hart answered ; " I never 
 thought about it." 
 
 " I do," answered Heaphy, with a bitterness 
 that Hart failed to recognize. " I envy success. 
 I envy strength. I envy lots of things." 
 
 He had started to walk faster and Hart 
 lengthened his stride to keep up with him. 
 
 " I like to win," continued Heaphy. " There 's 
 a power-r-r," (Mr. Heaphy 's rolling r-r was Irish 
 and no mistake) " a power in it." 
 
 " I suppose there is," said Hart, absent- 
 mindedly. 
 
 " Power in success," went on Heaphy. " No 
 matter what it is. A fool can be well liked if he 
 chooses, but the other is different." 
 
 " Hold your horses," said Hart, " you 're 
 getting beyond me." 
 
 The " young man with a purpose " did not 
 pursue the subject, but turned it at once. 
 
 " Will you come up into my room ? " he asked 
 suddenly. " We '11 pole our Greek together. 
 Will you come now ? " 
 
 Hart thanked him and shook his head. 
 
 " I think I '11 go over to the gym," he said, 
 " and pull those weights." 
 
 " Which would you rather do ? " inquired
 
 88 A Princetonian. 
 
 Heaphy, " play the best game of football or win 
 the Baird prizes ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Hart, frowning a little, 
 " I never thought about it much." 
 
 Without another word he took the cinder 
 cross-path that led in the direction of the gym- 
 nasium. Just at the stone steps that led up 
 to the dingy entrances of Witherspoon Hall 
 he ran across the party that he had met on the 
 front campus. Bliss stepped out to meet him. 
 
 " I say, old man, won't you come up to my 
 room ? We 're going to have a little tea-fight 
 up there. A lot of girls, and you will meet a 
 good many you will see to-night at the dance." 
 
 Hart at first thought of backing out. He 
 had almost forgotten about the dance. 
 
 " I am going over to the gymnasium," he 
 said. " Besides " he hesitated and Bliss broke 
 in : 
 
 " Oh, never mind going over and dressing 
 up ; come just as you are. Tommy Wilson 's 
 up there in a pair of corduroy breeches." 
 
 He plucked Hart's sleeve, and the latter 
 allowed himself to be led toward where the 
 others were standing. 
 
 " I am going to present you to Miss Hollings-
 
 The Hero of a TecL-Fight. 89 
 
 worth and my sister," said Bliss. " Miss 
 Hollingsworth is a ripper, don't you think?" 
 
 " I am pleased to make your acquaintance," 
 said Hart to each of the young ladies. 
 
 Miss Hollingsworth had extended her hand 
 and he had bowed over it not ungracefully. 
 Her brother, whom Hart remembered as one 
 of the heelers of the Glee Club whom he had 
 seen in Omaha, hardly nodded, but Elliott and 
 Minton greeted him in a familiar and friendly 
 way. Danforth, to whom Hart was also intro- 
 duced, used the latter's own phrase in recogni- 
 tion. 
 
 " Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. 
 Hart," he said, and he spoke tactfully of having 
 desired for some time to meet him. 
 
 Despite all this Hart was not altogether at 
 his ease as he followed the others up the worn, 
 narrow stairway. On the second floor, Bliss 
 threw open the doors and ushered the party 
 into his room. It was a typical college interior. 
 There were already some people there, and an 
 odor of brewing tea. There were photographs 
 in profusion, and orange and black bedecked 
 every corner. 
 
 On a window seat sat Tommy Wilson in a
 
 90 A Princetonian. 
 
 very old pair of corduroys, and beside him a 
 vivacious little girl, who was playing an almost 
 inaudible accompaniment on a banjo she held 
 across her knee to Tommy's conversation. 
 
 Mrs. Bliss, kindly faced, with gray hair and 
 a young girlish figure, welcomed the new- 
 comers, with a little reproach to her son for 
 having been so late. 
 
 " I have heard about you, Mr. Hart," she 
 said, extending her hand across the table. 
 
 "Oh! And Mr. Minton told us about your 
 adventure with the proctor," put in Miss 
 Hollingsworth. 
 
 Hart looked reproachfully at the half-back, 
 but, failing to catch his eye, he answered, 
 flushing: 
 
 " I am rather glad the faculty did not hear 
 of it. I am afraid it was very foolish." 
 
 "Why, I think it was splendid," said Miss 
 Bliss. 
 
 Hart did not know what to reply to this, and 
 he took the cup of tea that Mrs. Bliss extended 
 to him, wondering why she had slipped a slice 
 of lemon in it. 
 
 An old colored man, with gray hair and a dig- 
 nified family-servant countenance, came from 
 the bedroom. The room was so crowded that
 
 The Hero of a Tea- Fight. 91 
 
 he got no farther than the door, where he 
 paused with a large plate of chicken croquettes 
 in one hand and a bowl of salad in the other. 
 
 " Won't you pass the croquettes, Mr. Hart ? " 
 asked Mrs. Bliss, glancing up kindly. 
 
 Looking down rather hopelessly at the cup 
 of tea that he had been blowing to cool a little, 
 Hart stepped forward. 
 
 " Let me take your cup," said Miss Hollings- 
 worth, readily, " then you can come back to 
 me and get it, or here, put it on the corner of 
 the mantelpiece, and I will save your seat for 
 you." 
 
 Hart took the plate of croquettes in one hand 
 and the bowl of salad in the other. 
 
 Hollingsworth had lifted himself into the 
 window seat on the other side of the girl with 
 the banjo. As Hart approached he said some- 
 thing that caused the girl to stop her playing 
 and look up curiously. 
 
 " Won't you have some of this, Miss ? " be- 
 gan Hart, politely, and then he saw for the first 
 time that no plates had been handed around. 
 Bliss at this moment came to his rescue. 
 
 " Hold on, old man," he said ; " wait till I 
 get the platters." 
 
 Hart stood there awkwardly, not knowing
 
 92 A Princetonian. 
 
 what to do, while Bliss passed around and dis- 
 tributed the plates from the table. Hart had 
 just perceived that something in his method of 
 procedure was wrong, when there came the 
 sound of singing from outside. Hollingsworth 
 turned suddenly in response to an interrogation 
 of the girl at his side, and his elbow struck the 
 bottom of the bowl of salad. How it occurred 
 Hart could never tell, but the bowl slipped 
 from his fingers and landed bottom uppermost 
 on the top of Mr. Hollingsworth's silk hat, 
 which received the contents without spilling 
 even so much as a drop of the dressing. Hol- 
 lingsworth observed the accident with an ex- 
 clamation of anger. 
 
 " The clumsy chump ! " he said, looking up 
 at poor Hart, who in his effort to secure the 
 lost balance of the salad bowl had distributed 
 two or three of the croquettes on the floor. 
 "What are you doing?" 
 
 " I am very sorry, sir," Hart began. 
 
 Hollingsworth was in an irritable mood. 
 
 " Oh, get out," he said, " before you do more 
 damage ! " 
 
 Hart had now grown to be a little angry 
 himself.
 
 The Hero of a Tea-Fight. 93 
 
 " It is your own fault ; you did it," he an- 
 swered, a snap coming to his eyes. " You 
 struck it with your elbow." 
 
 Bliss had now for the first time observed the 
 catastrophe. He broke out into a roar of 
 laughter, in which the others joined. 
 
 " Who ever heard of handing things around 
 like that anyhow ! " went on the owner of the 
 silk hat ; and he said something about being 
 "brought up in a saw-mill," beneath his breath. 
 
 At this moment the girl in the corner spoke 
 up. 
 
 " Oh, never mind that little thing, Mr. Hart," 
 she said. "Your tea is getting cold." 
 
 Bliss had relieved his guest of the plate of 
 croquettes, saying in an undertone : 
 
 " That 's all right, old man ; the cleverest 
 thing you ever did." 
 
 Poor Hart could not see anything clever in 
 it, and only stumbled through an inaudible 
 reply as he managed to reach the corner where 
 Miss Hollingsworth was seated. She made 
 room for him on the little sofa and reached 
 down the cup of tea. Hart looked at her. 
 Her eyes were full of laughter. 
 
 " I am awfully glad you did that," she said ;
 
 94 A Princetonian. 
 
 " it was simply lovely. Now he will have to 
 give up wearing that horrible thing for the rest 
 of the evening at any rate." 
 
 Tommy Wilson took up the hat and the 
 bowl just as it was. 
 
 " Will any lady in the audience please lend 
 me a gold watch?" he said; "or a wedding 
 ring ; or a lace handkerchief would make a 
 good substitute. You have observed, ladies 
 and gentlemen, what my assistant has carefully 
 deposited within this ornamental head gear. 
 Sir," he remarked, turning to Hollingsworth 
 with a mock bow, " pray don't be worried." 
 
 " I am sorry I was so awkward," began Hart, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " Don't say a word," interrupted Miss Hol- 
 lingsworth. " It was most successful, and his 
 getting angry was the funniest thing of all." 
 
 In fact the ridicule that Hart had at first felt 
 would have been heaped on him seemed now 
 to cover Hollingsworth, and seeing there was 
 nothing for it, he accepted the situation as 
 gracefully as he could. 
 
 The old colored man removed the debris, 
 and things went on much as if nothing had 
 happened. The feeling of embarrassment had
 
 The Hero of a Tea- Fight. 95 
 
 left Hart's mind. The girl at his side had not 
 asked him any questions, but had begun a little 
 story of a similar accident she had once seen at 
 a dinner. 
 
 " But it was not half so good as this," she 
 added, at which Hart's spirits rose. "You're 
 coming to the dance to-night ? " she said. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," Hart answered, " I am." 
 
 " Miss Bliss told me you had a dance with 
 her," went on Miss Hollingsworth. " I have 
 just one vacant place." 
 
 Something prompted Hart to do the proper 
 thing. 
 
 " Won't you give it to me? " he asked. 
 
 " Why, certainly," said the girl. " It 's the 
 fourth, now, don't forget, will you ? " 
 
 The party broke up, and it being too late to 
 go over to the gymnasium, Hart went to his 
 room. Suddenly a peculiar thought came to 
 his mind. He remembered that the young 
 men of the Glee Club troupe had all worn what 
 are termed " swallow-tails " in Oakland. The 
 idea that it should ever be necessary for him to 
 possess such a thing had seemed preposterous. 
 What if it were necessary to appear in one at 
 the sophomore dance. He would have given
 
 96 A Princetonian. 
 
 a great deal to have gotten out of the whole 
 affair, and yet he felt a thrill of disappointment 
 at the idea of missing the fourth figure, as he 
 termed it. It plunged him into despair. 
 
 " Hull-1-l-o, Hart ! " sounded beneath his win- 
 dow, 
 
 It was Franklin. 
 
 " May I come up ? " 
 
 In another moment he had entered the room. 
 Without beating about the bush Hart explained 
 his predicament. 
 
 " Yes," said Franklin. " Of course, you have 
 got to wear evening dress. But here 's the 
 idea, take mine. I 'm not going. It will just 
 about fit you. Here 's the scheme, come over 
 to my room and dress." 
 
 As they went out into the corridor, Patrick 
 Corse Heaphy came up the stairs. 
 
 " What are you going to do to-night ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " Going to the dance," answered Hart. 
 
 " That 's a good idea," Heaphy suddenly re- 
 sponded. " Guess I '11 go too." 
 
 To tell the truth, Mr. Heaphy had surprised 
 himself in making this statement more than he
 
 The Hero of a Tea-Fight. 97 
 
 had surprised the others. He hesitated a 
 moment, plunged up the stairs, two steps at a 
 time, and slammed the door of his room behind 
 him. 
 
 Hart and Franklin stopped and joined one 
 of the groups sitting under the elms on the 
 front campus. 
 
 " Queer duck, that friend of yours," observed 
 Franklin. " I wonder what he 's going to make 
 out of this place." 
 
 " I wonder what I 'm going to make out of 
 it," said Hart slowly; "that sort of puzzles 
 me."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE YOUNG MAN WITH A PURPOSE. 
 
 BESIDES slamming the door, Mr. Heaphy had 
 carefully locked it. Then he had opened the 
 lid of his trunk and took out some neatly folded 
 clothes. It was a dress suit, ready-made, but 
 cut in the latest fashion. It had never before 
 adorned Mr. Heaphy's person, except upon the 
 occasion when he had tried it on. Why he 
 possessed it, or why he possessed many other 
 things, which did not show or to which he 
 never referred, would have been a mystery. 
 But Heaphy was something of a mystery him- 
 self, which may be sufficient excuse for an ex- 
 planation later. He laid the clothing carefully 
 out on the narrow little bed and sat on a chair 
 at the desk. He half repented of the sudden 
 decision he had made, and as there was an hour 
 or more before he would have to begin to 
 dress, he opened his geometry notes and turned 
 the leaves slowly over with his thumb. 
 98
 
 The Young Man with a Purpose. 99 
 
 For some time he sat there trying to force 
 his mind to work., but there was one idea that 
 he could not get rid of Why did he not enjoy 
 things? Why could he not go about life in 
 the careless, happy fashion, after the manner of 
 so many people about him ? Even Hart seemed 
 to be catching it, he was being sought after, 
 his friendship seemed to be desired. He was 
 going to make a success. Poor Heaphy sighed. 
 If there had been a feminine streak in his nature 
 he might have wept. 
 
 There were many things, however, that the 
 young man with a purpose did not bring into 
 his reasoning. His life had been a most pecul- 
 iar one, to explain which takes us back to his 
 early youth. It had been spent in luxury. He 
 had been born in a house with a large French 
 mansard roof, and there were any number of 
 beautiful cast-iron statues in the front yard be- 
 fore it Dianas, Newfoundland dogs, and stags, 
 not forgetting a spurty little fountain with a 
 slimy green cherub. 
 
 It was a remarkable fact that Patrick Corse 
 Heaphy 's father had had one large regret when 
 his son was born. It was that this small, gur- 
 gling, spluttering bunch of life would have to
 
 too A Princetonian. 
 
 inherit the name of Heaphy. It would not 
 have been so bad, Patrick's father reasoned 
 within himself, if he were poor, but along with 
 the red hair and the much-despised name, his 
 son would one day inherit wealth, real estate, 
 and the sole ownership of the Pliny Mills, 
 where the elder Heaphy had begun his own 
 successful career at the age of twelve. 
 
 Patrick's father had another secret also. He 
 had envied the appearance of those members 
 of the near-by country club, men of his own 
 age, who rode stockily built little horses and 
 drove tandems. Mr. Heaphy had sense enough 
 to know that he would look ridiculous dressed 
 in loose breeches and tight boots, and he felt 
 sure that, if he ever drove a tandem, the leader 
 would turn around and laugh at him ; but he 
 envied these people nevertheless, and would 
 have given worlds to have been one of them. 
 Of this of course he said nothing, not even to 
 his wife. In fact Patrick's father had been a 
 somewhat sensible, shrewd, uneducated snob. 
 
 Patrick's mother had become accustomed to 
 her life of luxury only by degrees. Before 
 little Patrick was born she had sat looking out 
 of the window at a laundry-maid hanging up the
 
 The Young Man with a Purpose. 101 
 
 wash in the latticed enclosure behind the house. 
 She remembered the time when she had done 
 just the same thing, a clothes-pin in her mouth, 
 the way the laundry-maid was standing. Her 
 knuckles had itched for the ridges of the scrub- 
 bing board, and she had craved cabbage and 
 blue corned beef. Her strong-mindedness, 
 however, had been shown by the way she stood 
 out for " Patrick Corse " (her father's name) 
 against " Clarence Alexander," proposed by her 
 husband. And she had lived just long enough 
 to see the result of her victory, for little Patrick 
 was baptized out of a silver soap-dish in his 
 mother's high-ceilinged room, two days before 
 she died. 
 
 After Mr. Heaphy had laid his wife to rest 
 beneath a magnificent pile of assorted granite, 
 he had turned his attention to his only son. 
 " He should be a gentleman and have all his 
 fancy spoke for." 
 
 Thus it might seem that young Patrick's 
 path was to be one of roses ; but he would 
 have none of it. 
 
 The glass pilot-house affair that topped the 
 mansard roof became stocked with Patrick's 
 cast-off playthings. His greatest pleasure was
 
 102 A Princetonian. 
 
 digging in the garden or working with hammer 
 and nails in the empty chicken-house behind 
 the stable. 
 
 He was not pretty as a child ; he had a broad 
 flat face, a well shaped head, and a tangle of 
 coarse red hair. When dressed in his velvet 
 suit and leggings like the children of the 
 country-club people, he looked awkward and 
 uncomfortable, and, if the truth be told, at such 
 times he was most unhappy. He had one or 
 two odd habits. If he was puzzled, he scratched 
 his head, and he walked in long strides with his 
 arms hanging loose from his shoulders, like a 
 laboring man. His hands and feet were large 
 and heavy ; there was no elasticity in his figure. 
 
 The day before Patrick's eleventh birthday 
 an accident occurred on the railway, and poor 
 Mr. Heaphy the elder had been a victim of the 
 usual conflagration. 
 
 The funeral services were not impressive, nor 
 was the scene at the reading of the will. At the 
 reading it was shown that the Pliny Mills were 
 sold. All the property had been given in trust 
 for Patrick in the care of a well-known New 
 York firm, and the income derived therefrom 
 left as the words ran " To my son Patrick
 
 The Young Man with a Purpose. 103 
 
 for educational and travelling expenses and the 
 covering of expenditures that are necessary to 
 the life of a private gentleman of means and 
 leisure. It is my wish that he engage in no 
 mercantile pursuit." 
 
 Mr. Heaphy's cat was out of the bag at last. 
 But Patrick, sitting there in an ill-fitting suit of 
 black, swung his heavy feet and ran his fingers 
 through his coarse red hair, unconscious of the 
 amused glances of the lawyers. No one would 
 have thought that the boy was grieving deeply. 
 
 And after this, Patrick, having no relatives, 
 had been hustled off to boarding-school. Here 
 he made no intimates, and only once had he 
 attracted attention, the time when he fought 
 for one whole hour, with a dogged weeping 
 courage, and had the school bully at a stand- 
 still. 
 
 There had grown upon him during these 
 years for he spent his vacations at the second 
 master's house a curious way of walking ; he 
 carried his head to one side and raised one 
 shoulder higher than the other. Neither the 
 school physician nor Patrick himself knew that 
 his grandfather (Heaphy, the charcoal man) had 
 carried his head and shoulders in that same
 
 1O4 A Princetonian. 
 
 way, and had been the strongest man in thir- 
 teen counties. No matter how Patrick dressed 
 he had the appearance of a child of ambitious 
 poverty. 
 
 And thus he had come to college, loving no 
 one, trying hard for complete success ; his only 
 happiness, hard work, and eaten up with am- 
 bition. 
 
 No wonder that this strange, unusual crea- 
 ture should feel bitter against the world. It did 
 not believe in him, he thought, and he had be- 
 gun to doubt himself a most unhappy thing to 
 do. 
 
 Money to Heaphy meant nothing. He did 
 not know how to spend or how to enjoy it. At 
 the mere scratch of a pen, he could have 
 bought the best room in Witherspoon Hall ; 
 he could have hung it with tapestry and filled 
 it with beautiful things. 
 
 It is not a remarkable fact that if a man does 
 not know how to spend his income, there are 
 plenty willing to teach him, and Heaphy could 
 have held court and driven tandem, if he had 
 so willed it, but the role of Aladdin held no at- 
 traction for him. He had no desire to stroke 
 the lamp or to command the genii. But to re- 
 turn to the room in Edwards and leave this
 
 The Young Man with a Purpose. 105 
 
 long digression. Looking up at his cheap little 
 clock, Heaphy perceived that he had just time 
 to run over to his eating club, if he did not wish 
 to go supperless to the reception. 
 
 He had never been to a dance in his life, and 
 had it not been for Hart's expressing his own 
 determination to put in an appearance, he would 
 never have thought of such a thing. 
 
 Heaphy had determined deliberately to make 
 a friend of Newton Hart, and to win, if possi- 
 ble, his regard. 
 
 At about half-past nine Mr. Heaphy had com- 
 pleted his toilet and looked at himself in the 
 glass. He had paid particular attention to his 
 hair, but it stood stiff and straight in a red, 
 wiry tangle that refused to remain parted. 
 Around the narrow standing collar was a white 
 satin tie, forsooth made fast with a palpable 
 elastic band ; and, to complete the tone, he had 
 thrust a black silk handkerchief with a red bor- 
 der into his waistcoat. 
 
 With many misgivings he left the room and 
 walked down the corridor, and knocked on 
 Hart's door. There was no answer. His cour- 
 age almost failed him for a moment, but at last 
 he started alone across the campus for Univer- 
 sity Hall where the reception was being held.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DANCE. 
 
 THE windows were down and the music of 
 the orchestra throbbed on the air. The big 
 veranda (the Hall had originally been intended 
 for a hotel) was enclosed by sheets of canvas. 
 A large crowd was gathered about the entrance. 
 As he approached the table at which the tickets 
 were being sold, it not being an invitation 
 affair, he saw Hart and Congreve in the line 
 ahead of him. The three freshmen entered 
 the room together. It was very brilliantly 
 lighted and decked with banner trophies and 
 long streamers of orange and black. The 
 orchestra occupied the stage at the end of the 
 hall, and the first number had just begun. 
 
 Congreve saw a girl whom he knew well in 
 
 the city, and left Hart and Heaphy standing in 
 
 the corner. Little Miss Bliss walked by on the 
 
 arm of a tall senior. She leaned back and 
 
 106
 
 The Dance. 107 
 
 nodded pleasantly to Hart. The senior followed 
 her glance. 
 
 " Do you know," he said, " it is a strange 
 thing that in the freshman year about twenty- 
 five men come to the front for some reason 
 and become known to the college at large. It 
 takes two years about to bring the others out. 
 Those two chaps are in the twenty-five. I 
 don't suppose that there is a man in college 
 who does n't know them by sight. Of course 
 the big fellow's belonging to football accounts 
 for it with him, but I think we will hear from 
 the other one too. Strange looking bird ! " 
 
 Heaphy had begun to feel very ill at ease, 
 and Hart was struggling against the same sen- 
 sation. As soon as he had come in he had 
 looked around for Miss Hollingsworth and at 
 last he saw her surrounded by a cordon of 
 black coats in the farther corner. 
 
 One thing that made Hart nervous was 
 noticing that they danced very differently from 
 the way people danced at Oakland. There 
 was no stamping or calling from one couple to 
 another, and they went through a quadrille 
 without any one shouting out the figures. 
 
 He wondered what Mabel would say to the
 
 io8 A Princetonian. 
 
 dresses. Hers had always been the best at 
 Oakland, but somehow he could not exactly 
 imagine her here beside him. He felt sure that 
 she would be uncomfortable. Instead of enter- 
 ing into the gayety, Hart began to be much 
 depressed. 
 
 " I would n't know what to say to these 
 people," he thought to himself. " I wonder 
 what they talk about." 
 
 Neither he nor the " young man with a 
 purpose " had moved since they had entered 
 the room. Suddenly Bliss caught sight of 
 them and hurried up. 
 
 " Look here, can't I introduce you to some 
 of the girls ? " he said. " I know four or five 
 good dancers who might give you an extra. 
 There 's Sally Redmond over there, jolly girl. 
 She 's all alone. Come on ! " 
 
 He took Hart by the sleeve and led him 
 across the room. Hart felt like a lumbering 
 deep-sea craft in charge of a pilot. Bliss took 
 his time and avoided impending collisions with- 
 out having to jump for it, and steered through 
 the dangerous shoals of whirling skirts and 
 projecting elbows, and brought his convoy to 
 anchor at last before a little girl seated near
 
 The Dance. 109 
 
 the window ; and now Hart found out what 
 they were talking about. 
 
 " Is n't it dreadfully warm, Mr. Hart ? " said 
 the girl. As she had been dancing and was 
 fanning herself furiously, Hart agreed. 
 
 " The hall looks very pretty, does n't it ? 
 You are so clever at decorating things down 
 here ! " 
 
 Hart looked around him. 
 
 " Yes, I think it 's pretty," he said. 
 
 " Those pillars are dreadfully in the way." 
 
 " I should think they were." 
 
 This was easy enough. A pause followed. 
 
 " The floor is very good," said the girl. 
 
 Hart looked at the floor. 
 
 " Yes," he remarked, " and it is quite 
 crowded." 
 
 From the floor his glance passed to Miss 
 Redmond's face. She appeared to be having 
 a very good time. She was animated and 
 smiling as if they had been indulging in quite 
 a wonderful and brain-enlivening conversation. 
 Somehow Hart began to pluck up courage. 
 He ventured some remark about the music. 
 It was accepted. 
 
 Just as they had got back to the weather again
 
 no A Princetonian. 
 
 a young man came up and claimed a dance, and 
 Miss Redmond whisked away. 
 
 Hart somehow felt amused. In fact he had 
 learned as much in this short conversation as 
 he might have derived from reading a book on 
 the subject. He arose and joined Heaphy. 
 He had found out that by walking slowly 
 people got out of his way. 
 
 He did not note the envious look in Heaphy's 
 eyes. The latter took him by the arm. His 
 question rang in such accord with Hart's 
 thoughts that he was forced to smile. 
 
 " What did you talk to them ? Did you have 
 to pay them compliments ? " asked Heaphy. 
 
 " No," said Hart, " just let them begin it and 
 agree with what they say." 
 
 Again Bliss happened to go by. 
 
 " The next is your dance with my sister," he 
 said, tapping Hart on the shoulder. " She is 
 over there near the door." 
 
 Hart walked in Miss Bliss's direction. As he 
 came up he saw that Congreve was talking to her. 
 
 " Here he is now," said Congreve. " Oh, 
 Pop ! " 
 
 Hart had become quite used to his nick- 
 name.
 
 The Dance. 1 1 1 
 
 " I was reciting Golatly's poem about your 
 struggle with Matt." 
 
 " You don't know what a hero you are made 
 out to be," said Miss Bliss, looking up at Hart 
 with a laugh. 
 
 " Well, I don't feel like one," Hart answered 
 awkwardly. " It 's very hot this evening." 
 
 " Yes, it is," said Miss Bliss. 
 
 " Floor is very good." 
 
 Miss Bliss appeared astonished. Somehow 
 the smile of interest was fading away. 
 
 " The music is very good too." 
 
 " Yes," answered Miss Bliss. 
 
 " How pretty the decorations are." 
 
 Why, it was as easy as swimming. The music 
 struck up, and Hart after three or four collisions 
 in getting started managed to get through four 
 or five turns of the polka. 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Miss Bliss, 
 as they swung near their seat again. " I 
 promised to give half of this to Mr. Hollings- 
 worth." 
 
 She left Hart with a little smile, and Hol- 
 lingsworth guided her away into the crowd. 
 
 " I thought you said he was a character, a 
 hoosier, you called him," said Miss Bliss.
 
 112 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Well, he is," returned Hollingsworth, " a 
 regular yap. Does n't he talk like it ? " 
 
 " No such luck," said Miss Bliss, shortly. " He 
 talks like the rest of you, and is just as unin- 
 teresting." 
 
 Hollingsworth frowned, and the rest of the 
 dance was finished in silence. 
 
 Meantime Hart had begun to enjoy himself, 
 when suddenly a qualm struck him about poor 
 Heaphy. Passing Congreve, Hart stopped him. 
 
 " Why don't you introduce Heaphy to some 
 of your friends," he said. 
 
 " Good idea," said Congreve, " I '11 knock 
 him down to Daisy Smith. She '11 play tag 
 with him." 
 
 But Heaphy was nowhere to be found. Only 
 a few minutes before he had taken his things 
 from the cloak-room and walked away from the 
 hall, added bitterness eating into his heart. 
 
 Now it was the fourth figure and Hart 
 approached Miss Hollingsworth. She greeted 
 him with a smile. 
 
 " You 've not forgotten," she said. 
 
 The crowd about her made a little way for 
 him. She took his arm and they walked off 
 slowly.
 
 The Dance. 1 1 3 
 
 "It is very warm," Hart began. 
 
 He went through the formula that he im- 
 agined so successful and had gotten as far as 
 the condition of the floor when Miss Hollings- 
 worth interrupted him. 
 
 " Now go on and speak about the music and 
 the decorations," she said. " Heavens, how I 
 enjoy originality ! " 
 
 Poor Hart was embarrassed now and no 
 mistake. 
 
 " Oh, never mind," said Miss Hollingsworth, 
 " I know you are really better than that. Don't 
 let 's dance; let 's go out on the veranda." 
 
 They went through the doorway and found 
 seats together where the air was cool and fresh. 
 Hart had not spoken and now could imagine 
 nothing to start the talk with. Suddenly Miss 
 Hollingsworth began. 
 
 " Mr. Bliss told me something about you, 
 Mr. Hart," she said. " Now, I should say 
 that you had a great deal before you. You 
 see, women divide men into two classes at 
 first, men who are usual, and men who are 
 different." 
 
 "Do you mean the usual are indifferent ?" 
 asked Hart.
 
 H4 A Princetonian. 
 
 "Now, that's better," said Miss Rollings- 
 worth. "No, I don't. This is what I 
 mean." 
 
 And then she went on to explain. Hart 
 found that he had lost all his embarrassment, 
 and to his strange surprise an unusual enjoy- 
 ment came to him. The girls he had met at 
 Oakland had never talked to him like this. 
 There was an excitement about it. 
 
 Miss Hollingsworth was finding a great deal 
 out about her new acquaintance. She had 
 been given by nature the strange gift of being 
 able to draw out the best from people, to 
 make them interested and interesting. 
 
 Hart was telling something of the life in 
 a new town, of the emigrant farmers, their 
 ignorance and suffering. From that he had 
 come to speak of his early youth. 
 
 He had grown away from any awkwardness 
 and no man ever forgets a conversation of this 
 kind, or a woman who has once eased the 
 awkwardness of new surroundings. 
 
 Suddenly the talk was interrupted by the 
 tall senior who had first spoken of the two 
 freshmen, claiming the dance. 
 
 " I hope we shall meet again, Mr. Hart,"
 
 The Dance. 1 1 5 
 
 said Miss Hollingsworth, giving her hand as 
 she went away, leaving him alone. He came 
 back into the room for a minute, but had lost 
 all interest in the floor, the music, and the 
 decorations. 
 
 Despite the entreaties of Congreve to remain, 
 he got his hat and coat (at least Franklin's 
 coat) and strolled over to the latter's room. 
 
 It was quite early and Buck had not gone 
 to bed. 
 
 "Well," he asked, "how was it? A suc- 
 cess ? " 
 
 Hart paused. 
 
 " Well," he answered, " it was and it was n't." 
 
 " You are non-committal," yawned Franklin. 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Hart, thoughtfully. " Do 
 you know that there 's a lot to learn that 's 
 never been put in books." 
 
 " That 's just life," returned Franklin.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE BLUE DEVILS. 
 
 "POP, old boy," said L. Putney Betts, 
 " you Ve got something on your mind. Your 
 presence exudes a blue haze suggestive of re- 
 morse or a dread of impending trouble. Cheer 
 up ! Care kills cats, you know." 
 
 Hart was sitting in the window with his feet 
 up on the cushion, looking out at Nassau Street. 
 Three or four chilly nights had scattered the 
 leaves from the trees and they littered the walks 
 and roadways. It was now late in October. 
 
 The Westerner's appearance had changed not 
 a little in the past two months. He looked 
 somewhat younger than he did when he had 
 climbed up the stone steps from the station, 
 the day of his first encounter with the sopho- 
 mores. His face had become thinner, but it 
 glowed with health. His coat was open and 
 a big orange P flared on the breast of a new 
 sweater. His only reply to Betts's remark was 
 116
 
 The Blue Devils. 117 
 
 a half smile and a straightening back of his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " If I did n't know they fed you well at the 
 training-table," put in Terence Golatly, slap- 
 ping the soles of Hart's feet with the handle 
 of a tennis racket, " I should say that you had 
 the same thing that was the matter with the 
 little bird who sang ' Tit Willow, Tit Willow, 
 Tit Willow,' love, or-er-indigestion." 
 
 " He 's ashamed of the way he treated that 
 big right guard from Lafayette yesterday," said 
 Simeon Tolker Congreve. " You were awfully 
 rude, Pop, and if I were you I should write a 
 letter of apology." 
 
 Again Hart smiled. The day before he had 
 played his first game on the 'Varsity eleven 
 (although he had been riding in "that she- 
 bang " for the past week) and, making use of 
 a college expression, in the game referred to, 
 the big freshman had " everlastingly torn his 
 shirt," which means that he had accomplished 
 everything expected of him and a little bit 
 more ; but there was something on his mind 
 and this was a fact. It was nothing very tan- 
 gible as yet, and certainly nothing that he 
 could talk about, being merely this :
 
 1 1 8 A Princetonian. 
 
 He had carried a letter from Mabel unopened 
 in his pocket for half a day, and he really found 
 it growing difficult for him to write. He no 
 longer felt thrilled by the mental picture he 
 drew of her, standing at the head of the rick- 
 ety old stairs that led from the store to the 
 second story of the frame house in Oakland, 
 and even her photograph (with her hair beau- 
 tifully frizzed with a hot iron), that he had on 
 the mantelpiece of his room in Edwards, failed 
 to stir him. She was very different from from 
 some one else, the tones of whose voice would 
 not leave his mind, and yet who was as far 
 above him as the stars above the earth the 
 way he looked at it. 
 
 All this made him very unhappy, and made 
 him think that he was somehow a very mean 
 individual, and resulted in his studying harder 
 and playing football with a grim, cool deter- 
 mination in which, perchance, he found some 
 relief. 
 
 Miss Hollingsworth had been present at the 
 game with Lafayette the day before, and upon 
 one occasion, when he had dashed through the 
 crowd and fallen on the ball outside the bound- 
 ary, he had looked up and caught her eye as
 
 The Blue Devils. 1 1 9 
 
 she was watching him eagerly from the front 
 seat of an open carriage. Despite himself, his 
 heart had given an almost sickening leap, and 
 he had gone back and thrown the Lafayette 
 guard so heavily, in breaking through the line, 
 that the man from Pennsylvania said after- 
 wards that he " thought he had been hit by 
 freight." 
 
 Hart had carefully avoided meeting Miss 
 Hollingsworth, although Bliss, on congratu- 
 lating him when the struggle was over, had 
 said: "I say, the girls are over there. Why 
 don't you trot across and see them never mind 
 the dirt." 
 
 Hart, however, had hidden himself in the 
 dressing-room and wished to be alone. That 
 night, however, he had dreamt that Miss Hol- 
 lingsworth had told him she was proud of him, 
 whereat he had blushed in his sleep. So all 
 this may account for his exuding a blue haze, 
 and being in a " Tit Willow " frame of mind. 
 
 The bell in old North had commenced 
 ding-donging, and Putney Betts and Golatly 
 asked each other " What the dickens was the 
 next recitation ? " Hart knew, of course, and 
 pulled a well thumbed note-book from his
 
 I2O A Princetonian. 
 
 pocket. Then the freshmen hurried down 
 the street and crossed the campus to attend 
 Livy Wescott's Latin. If there was one thing 
 that Hart was disturbed about in his mind, 
 there was another upon which he had reached 
 a satisfactory conclusion. It was that he had 
 completely changed his mind about college, 
 and that if he had only nothing to worry 
 over, he could live from day to day as happy 
 a man as ever breathed. 
 
 So the time went on. The first of Novem- 
 ber came. It was growing too chilly for lolling 
 out on the grass without a dread of pneu- 
 monia, and the day of the first big game with 
 Harvard was fast approaching. The usual big 
 scores had been rolled up against the smaller 
 colleges in the practice games without much 
 effort, although there had been quite a tussle 
 with Pennsylvania, where it was rumored they 
 were catching on to the tricks of the trade a 
 renegade " Eli " had them in hand. 
 
 Of late Hart had not seen very much of 
 Patrick Corse Heaphy, but the latter joined 
 him on the way across the campus and falter- 
 ingly asked him if he would not come over to 
 his room. There was something he wished to
 
 The Blue Devils. 121 
 
 talk about, Heaphy said, and he could not say 
 it where they might be interrupted. Hart was 
 not prepared for the surprise that followed. 
 He had supposed that Heaphy, who belonged 
 to a small coterie that exchanged note-books, 
 wished to talk to him upon some such matters. 
 But when he had reached the bare little room, 
 the " young man with a purpose " had locked 
 the door carefully. He appeared fidgety and 
 nervous. 
 
 " Now don't mind what I am going to say," 
 he began, first picking up one book and then 
 another from the table under the drop-light, 
 " but you 're in trouble. There 's something 
 worriting you (Heaphy had inherited the word 
 from his father). I 've seen your face in recita- 
 tion. Do you think playing football is inter- 
 fering with your studies ? " 
 
 Hart was shuffling uneasily. 
 
 " Not a bit," he said ; " I would n't let either 
 of them interfere with the other." 
 
 " Then," said Heaphy, with his face light- 
 ing up, " I know what it is. You see, you see, 
 it costs money to go to college, and some- 
 times it is n't aisy to get it." 
 
 Hart was now regarding him quietly and had
 
 122 A Princetonian. 
 
 stopped twirling the bunch of keys about his 
 forefinger. 
 
 " Now, I know a man," said Heaphy, " who 's 
 got some money to spare, and if you 're hard 
 up, I could get some for you. He don't want 
 any interest," he went on eagerly, " and you 
 can pay him back after you get through college. 
 He 's helped me." And Heaphy at this turned 
 as red in the face as his carrotty crop of stiff 
 bristles, " and I 'm not going to worry over 
 it ; some day, perhaps, I '11 tell you more about 
 the matter, but I don't want to just now, for 
 reasons." 
 
 Hart was touched. Heaphy 's shorter nick- 
 name was " Irish," but Hart had a tendency 
 (that he was nearly overcoming) to call almost 
 everybody " Mr." But as he had found that 
 this prevented close relationship, he was grow- 
 ing out of it. On this occasion his reply was 
 so polite that only its heartiness prevented it 
 from being distant. 
 
 " Thank you ever so much, Mr. Heaphy," 
 he said, " but it is n't that. I have enough to 
 carry me through the term, I guess. But " 
 he paused. " I 'm ever so much obliged to 
 you, and if I 'm ever in trouble that way I
 
 The Blue Devils. 123 
 
 shall tell you, bet on that. Perhaps I Ve been 
 training too hard. Mr. Robinson says I look a 
 trifle stale." 
 
 Heaphy, replying to the thanks and not to 
 the last remark, murmured, " Don't mention 
 it." Then he opened the door and ushered his 
 guest out into the hallway with an awkward 
 bow. When he returned to his room, the latter 
 found Ned Bliss waiting for him. 
 
 " I say, come home with me and spend 
 Sunday," said Ned, twirling a button on his 
 friend's jacket. " On the level, it '11 do you 
 lots of good."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. 
 
 AT first Hart refused the invitation, but Bliss 
 was so bent on having him come that in the end 
 he accepted. Elliott and Franklin both urged 
 his going when he spoke to them about it. 
 
 So after the last recitation on Saturday 
 morning, Bliss and Pop Hart hurried to the 
 station. As they passed by East College there 
 were two big figures standing at the corner, and 
 one of them, a heavy mustached man with the 
 stamp of Great Britain upon him, turned and 
 spoke as if he felt it incumbent upon himself 
 to say something. 
 
 " Now don't heat any sweets and be back in 
 time for an 'ard practice on Monday." 
 
 Hart grinned. 
 
 " All right, Mr. Robinson," he said, and 
 Bliss put in : 
 
 124
 
 A Difference of Opinion. 1 25 
 
 " I '11 take good care of him, Jim, and send 
 him to bed early." 
 
 The trainer turned and spoke to the burly 
 figure at his side. 
 
 " He 's goin' to make a good 'un some day, 
 when I get through with him." 
 
 Matthew Goldie, the proctor, shrugged his 
 heavy shoulders. 
 
 " I thought he was a pretty good 'un when 
 he got hold of me," he grunted. 
 
 The story of the struggle in L. Putney Betts's 
 room was abroad, even if it had not been dis- 
 cussed at a faculty meeting officially. 
 
 Ned Bliss lived in Orange, his father being 
 a well-to-do business man who had travelled 
 untold thousands of miles in the aggregate be- 
 tween New York and the New Jersey suburb 
 and had never missed a train. 
 
 " It 's Saturday and we may meet the gov- 
 ernor at the station," said Ned, as he and Hart 
 settled themselves in their seat, "and that 
 means that there '11 be a family driving party. 
 Care much for driving ? " 
 
 " I 've never done much of it for pleasure," 
 Hart responded, " but I like a good horse. 
 Does your father raise them ? "
 
 1 26 A F*rincetonian. 
 
 "Not exactly," Bliss answered; "he just 
 keeps them, keeps them longer than anybody 
 else would, most likely." 
 
 To show that the junior and the president 
 of the freshman class were on very good terms, 
 it is only necessary to state that most of the 
 trip between the junction and Newark was 
 made in silence, Bliss reading a novel, and Hart 
 occupied by looking over his notes on English 
 and gazing thoughtfully out of the window. 
 
 When they arrived at their destination, which 
 was one of the many Orange stations which 
 one it does n't much matter, Hart found him- 
 self wishing that he had not come ; not that he 
 was shy, but knowing that Miss Bliss was a 
 friend of Miss Hollingsworth, he positively be- 
 gan to fear that he might have to meet the 
 latter, and this made him nervous. At last he 
 plucked up courage enough to ask a question : 
 
 " Will Miss Hollingsworth be at your 
 house?" he inquired. 
 
 " Don't know, maybe," Bliss returned care- 
 lessly. " She and my sister are very thick. I 
 think Miss H. is a corker, don't you ? " 
 
 As this adjective did not exactly describe 
 the young lady to Hart's mind, he did not an-
 
 A Difference of Opinion. 1 2 7 
 
 swer, and soon the train pulled up at the plat- 
 form. A short, thick-set man, with iron-gray 
 whiskers, and bright sparkling eyes behind gold- 
 rimmed eye-glasses, greeted the young men as 
 they stepped from the train. 
 
 "Ah, Neddy, my boy; glad to see you. 
 And, Mr. Hart, how d' ye do ? Heard my 
 daughter speak of you. We Ve got the horses 
 here, what do you say for a drive ? Mary 
 is over there waiting." 
 
 He nodded his head in the direction of the 
 street, where an un-English-looking coachman 
 in a derby hat was driving a pair of healthy, 
 long-tailed horses leisurely up and down. In 
 the back seat sat Miss Bliss. She waved her 
 hand, and the carriage was drawn up close to 
 the snorting engine that the horses regarded 
 in a very friendly fashion. The coachman, 
 who answered familiarly to the name of 
 " Tom," was left in charge of the luggage. 
 
 Ned took the front seat beside his father, 
 and Hart sat down beside Miss Bliss. Her 
 very first words caused him a mingled feeling 
 of relief and disappointment. 
 
 " I had hoped that Madge Hollingsworth 
 was going to be with us," she said, extending a
 
 128 A Princetonian. 
 
 little gloved hand, " but at the last moment she 
 said she could n't come. But she 's here in 
 town with the Blakes however. Are n't you 
 disappointed ? " 
 
 Hart mumbled something. 
 
 " Oh, anybody would be," replied Miss Bliss, 
 as if she caught his meaning. " She 's just im- 
 mense, is n't she ? " 
 
 " She 's a very nice young lady," returned 
 Mr. Hart, " and very pretty." 
 
 Then Miss Bliss began to cross-question him 
 anent the football team. 
 
 They took quite a long drive and Mr. Bliss's 
 chief pleasure seemed to be in turning around 
 and saying over his shoulder : 
 
 " That's where Mr. So-and-so lives. This is 
 the residence of Mr. Somebody-else," to all of 
 which Hart responded, although why it should 
 be of great interest to the old gentleman, he 
 could not see. 
 
 When they returned to the Blisses' house, 
 which was a very neat wooden dwelling, with a 
 slate mansard roof, Hart was shown to a little 
 back room all blue chintz and white furniture.. 
 The surroundings were very odd, but it gave 
 him an indescribable pleasure. To his surprise
 
 A Difference of Opinion. 1 29 
 
 he found his bag at least Congreve's bag, 
 he had borrowed it for the occasion had been 
 unpacked, and Franklin's dress-suit was laid out 
 on the bed. 
 
 Before he began to dress Hart looked out of 
 the window. Tom, the coachman, was rubbing 
 down one of the contented-looking horses in 
 front of a diminutive stable at the end of the 
 neat driveway. 
 
 Hart sat for some time watching him. He 
 was not filled with envy at all this luxury, yet 
 he thought how fine a thing it must be to be 
 rich for he imagined that Mr. Bliss must be a 
 nabob and nothing else, to possess all these 
 comforts. How different it was from Oakland. 
 What a strange break had been made in his life ! 
 and yet suddenly he checked himself. Was 
 not this sort of thing going to make him dis- 
 contented and unhappy ? Could he ever go 
 back to the smell of ham and nails, or to 
 sitting again in his shirt sleeves in the front 
 room over the store, where he could imagine 
 Mabel pouring over the pages of The Ladys 
 Journal, her hair neatly frizzed, and, alas and 
 alas ! her pretty jaws working contentedly and 
 thoughtfully on a bit of fragrant chewing gum ?
 
 130 A Princetonian. 
 
 Somehow this picture gave him a shock. 
 Would it not have been better if he had never 
 come, or would it not be best for him to return 
 before further discouragements and the attend- 
 ant heartaches would grow upon him ? 
 
 All these complex feelings Hart charged up 
 to his own account as if they arose entirely 
 through some fault of his own, and as if they 
 should not be harbored or dwelt upon. 
 
 With a sigh he arose at last and dressed him- 
 self and went down stairs. No one else had ap- 
 peared and he entered the drawing-room alone. 
 
 But no sooner had he sat down in a chair to 
 wait than he jumped to his feet there was a 
 picture of Madge Hollingsworth smiling at him 
 from a silver frame on the mantelpiece. He 
 picked it up and looked at it. A half-frightened 
 sensation went over him. For an instant he 
 wished that he were going to see her, and then 
 a moment later he felt relieved because he was 
 not. Hearing some one come down the stairs, 
 he seated himself in a chair again, as Mrs. 
 Bliss entered. The little lady was very curious 
 concerning her guest, and this was the first 
 opportunity that she had had for asking ques- 
 tions.
 
 A Difference of Opinion. 131 
 
 " Do you intend to go out West again, Mr. 
 Hart? " she began, " after your graduation, I 
 mean, of course." 
 
 " I 've been thinking that I would never be 
 graduated at all," was the return. 
 
 " Goodness me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bliss, rais- 
 ing her eyebrows, " why this determination ? " 
 
 Hart paused before replying. 
 
 "I Ve been going over it all," he said at last, 
 " and I think I may be happier if I go back 
 right away." 
 
 " You must have some strong reason," Mrs. 
 Bliss suggested, becoming intensely interested. 
 
 "Yes, perhaps I have. I don't mean 'per- 
 haps' I have a strong reason." 
 
 For an instant Hart was tempted to unbosom 
 himself, and tell all about Mabel, but he was 
 deterred from this by the entrance of the rest 
 of the family, and they went in to dinner. 
 
 The glimpse of the delightful home surround- 
 ings and the affection that the Bliss family had 
 for one another was comforting to Hart, and 
 the way they received him into their circle put 
 him at his ease. The conversation at dessert 
 took a turn, however, that threw him into a pe- 
 culiar mood. They were talking of some mem-
 
 132 A Princetonian. 
 
 her of the junior class, who was known to all of 
 them, and Mrs. Bliss made this observation, 
 " I don't think it pays," she said, " for an en- 
 gaged man to come to college." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Miss Bliss, eagerly, for 
 speeches of this kind interest young girls espec- 
 ially. 
 
 " Mother is right," put in Ned, from the bot- 
 tom of the table. " An engagement is a sort 
 of a millstone, a dead-weight for a man to 
 carry for four years." 
 
 " Oh, how wise we are becoming ! " smiled his 
 sister. 
 
 " Well, take Clarkson, for example," Ned 
 went on, " He '11 never be happy with his 
 wife, that is, if he ever marries her. I met 
 her once, a silly toy of a girl, and upon my 
 word I could not help feeling as if Clarky had 
 outgrown her, so to speak." 
 
 " A man never knows his own mind until he 's 
 thirty," remarked Mr. Bliss, thoughtfully. 
 
 " But don't you think it is rather hard on the 
 girl ? " said Miss Bliss. Then she turned to 
 Hart, " Don't you agree with me ? " she asked. 
 " It is hard on the girl." 
 
 Hart winced.
 
 A Difference of Opinion. 133 
 
 " I should think it would be," he replied. 
 And then he fell to thinking. 
 
 Would his engagement to Mabel, that he felt 
 in honor bound to fulfil, ever become a mill- 
 stone, a dead-weight, for him to carry ! The 
 thought of it made him shudder, and then and 
 there he came to a decision, and the right way 
 out of it all, and the only way, he saw plainly. 
 He should leave college and go back to Oak- 
 land, marry, and take up his life as it had 
 begun. He was very silent all the rest of the 
 evening. 
 
 Ned and his sister sang duets, while he lis- 
 tened, and Mr. and Mrs. Bliss played dummy 
 whist in the corner, until good-night time came. 
 
 During the morning hours Hart tossed un- 
 easily, but his frame of mind did not alter. 
 The next morning, at breakfast, his appearance 
 caused Mrs. Bliss some uneasiness. 
 
 " I 'm afraid you Ve been training too hard, 
 Mr. Hart," she observed. "All that doesn't 
 pay." 
 
 Ned tried to nudge his mother, but Hart 
 replied : 
 
 " Perhaps I have, ma'am. Mr. Robinson said 
 that I had grown a trifle stale."
 
 134 -A Princetonian. 
 
 At this Mrs. Bliss recommended a tonic, which 
 had done her worlds of good when she " felt 
 that way " herself, whereat everyone laughed. 
 
 As it was Sunday they went to church. 
 No sooner had they entered the pew, than Miss 
 Bliss leaned over and spoke to her brother. 
 
 " Why, there 's Madge," she said. 
 
 Hart started. Three seats in front of him 
 he recognized Miss Hollingsworth. He could 
 see nothing but the back of her head, and occa- 
 sionally the side of her face, as she turned a 
 little, but he could not keep his eyes off her. 
 Oh, the wild thoughts and fancies that filled 
 his mind ! He almost wished something 
 would happen, the roof fall in, a fire break 
 out, in order that he might do something for 
 her, save her if possible from some danger ! 
 From all this, it is easy to perceive that Hart 
 was given to imagining at times. 
 
 As they went out of church, he did not have 
 a chance to speak to the tall beauty, although 
 he received a kindly nod and smile of recogni- 
 tion. But as soon as he reached the house he 
 inquired if there was not an afternoon train by 
 which he could return to Princeton, and pleaded 
 some excuse to account for his hurry.
 
 A Difference of Opinion. 135 
 
 Bliss, seeing he was so earnest, got out a 
 time-table and agreed to go back with him. 
 
 After the good-byes, when they were once on 
 the train, Hart turned and laid a hand on his 
 friend's knee. 
 
 " See here," he observed earnestly, " I 've 
 been going over everything, and have concluded 
 to go back West [he did not say ' home ' ] 
 next week." 
 
 To his surprise, Bliss's answer was a burst of 
 angry remonstrance. 
 
 " You can 't do it," he said, " and leave us in 
 the lurch that way ! There 's no one to play 
 right guard, you know it well ! and the college 
 would n't stand it. If you 're going to be an 
 idiot, and prove yourself a non-compos by 
 destroying your life, wait until after the Yale 
 game anyhow." 
 
 He opened his novel, then flung it at the 
 back of the seat in front of him and glared at 
 his companion in silence. Hart gazed out of 
 the window. 
 
 "All right," he said; " I '11 stay until after 
 the Yale game." 
 
 This was somewhat appeasing, and Bliss's 
 frown relaxed.
 
 136 A Princetonian. 
 
 . " You 're nutty on something. What 's eat- 
 ing you anyhow ? " he asked inelegantly. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," replied Hart, who felt his 
 anger rising. " I Ve just been thinking things 
 over, I tell you." 
 
 Bliss picked up his book again and made 
 himself comfortable. 
 
 " Too bad about Clarkson ! " he said with a 
 sigh. " Oh, I forgot that you did n't know him." 
 
 " I don't see that it 's any one else's business," 
 muttered Hart. 
 
 The young men did not indulge in much 
 conversation during the rest of the trip. A 
 constrained feeling had grown up between 
 them. They parted at the steps leading up to 
 campus, but before they had done so, they 
 shook hands and Hart thanked Bliss for the 
 pleasure he had had, at which Ned poked him 
 on the shoulder, and said laughingly : 
 
 " Oh, pshaw, you must come again, good-bye, 
 old boy ! " 
 
 But on the way up to his room Ned ran 
 across Buck Franklin. 
 
 " I know what 's the matter with Pop Hart," 
 he said, speaking confidentially. " He 's not 
 stale at all ; he 's just got a girl on his mind."
 
 A Difference of Opinion. 1 3 7 
 
 " Oh, ho ! " returned Franklin. " That 's the 
 row, is it ? Now it 's as clear as mud." 
 
 In the Monday practice game, Hart did 
 wonderful things. The two scrubbies that 
 were placed opposite to him found him all 
 shoulder and elbow and he stopped four of the 
 full-back's kicks and made three touch-downs. 
 His class had learned to cheer by this time and 
 they kept up a prideful howling in which even 
 the sophomores joined. Trainer Jim Robinson 
 observed : 
 
 " I knew wot was the matter with 'm. 'E 
 just needed a Sunday off ; " which shows all 
 Mr. Robinson knew about the matter.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MAN IN THE 'VARSITY SWEATER. 
 
 THERE was no cane-spree this October at 
 Princeton, for the reason that the sophomores 
 decided at a class meeting to frown upon it ; 
 this determination being arrived at really be- 
 cause they had no man to put in against the 
 freshman heavy-weight, who, despite his play- 
 ing on the Eleven, had expressed his determina- 
 tion to go in for it. 
 
 But Hart was growing very moody and L. 
 Putney Betts, Congreve, and Golatly did their 
 best to draw him out of himself, but he kept 
 away from them. 
 
 " It 's the big game that 's on his mind," 
 observed Congreve one afternoon. " Wait till 
 he breaks training and we '11 teach him some 
 of the pleasures of existence oh ! beer, beer, 
 glorious beer ! " 
 
 " Let 's go over to his room and razzle- 
 dazzle him now," said Golatly. 
 138
 
 The Man in the ' Varsity Sweater. 1 39 
 
 They all three crossed the campus and made 
 their way towards Edwards. They pounded 
 on Hart's door and were admitted, but they 
 did not stay long, and the razzle-dazzle was 
 not a success. 
 
 Upon their entrance, Hart had slipped a letter 
 he was writing under the blotting pad. It was 
 one addressed to Mabel Van Clees, telling her 
 that he would be in Oakland on the first of 
 December and that he hoped they could be 
 married before Christmas. 
 
 Days flew by, and Princeton won the Har- 
 vard game score something big and bonfires 
 blazed. But the great event was yet to come 
 "Yale ! Yale ! " was the talk on the campus. 
 
 One day the college waked up in a peculiar 
 manner. Very early in the morning some one 
 had thrust his head out of a window, and it only 
 needed a glance to show that the weather was 
 fine crisp and cool, cheerful and bright, and 
 not a cloud in the sky ! 
 
 The early riser was Tommy Wilson, and after 
 squinting about he proceeded to do a very curi- 
 ous thing. He skipped over to the corner of his 
 room and picked up a shot-gun, which he care- 
 fully loaded ; then he went into the little room
 
 140 A Princetonian. 
 
 in which his room-mate, Manager Bishop, slept, 
 and he awakened the latter by tweaking both 
 of his great toes : 
 
 " Resurrect, ye sleeper ! " he cried. " Resur- 
 rect ! The great day is here ! Come forth ! 
 Break out ! " 
 
 Bishop aimed a kick at Tommy's chest and 
 threw off the bedclothes, but by this time 
 Tommy had reached the window. 
 
 " Bang ! Bang ! " went the shot-gun, and 
 then the two inhabitants of the corner room 
 in West-middle Witherspoon began to shout : 
 
 " Heads out ! Heads out ! Waow ! Ya yi 
 yi yi Waouw ! " 
 
 The booming of a great tin horn answered 
 from the direction of Edwards, and then six 
 quick pops from a revolver spurted out of a win- 
 dow over the early risers' heads. Another horn 
 took up the tooting. A bunch of fire-crackers 
 began crackling in another direction, and then 
 a screaming and roaring and rippling of sound 
 arose from all over the campus. 
 
 The college had not gone crazy as might, at 
 first, have appeared ; nor was it a prearranged 
 Jmeute, or an open rebellion. It was merely 
 the greeting accorded to the Yale Game Day,
 
 The Man in the ' Varsity Sweater. 141 
 
 and the undergraduate pulse was high and 
 feverish. Steam was at top pressure ; and this 
 was a preliminary blow-off, as it were, for the 
 sake of health. No one is late for breakfast 
 on this morning, be it put on record. 
 
 At the same early hour Newton Wilberforce 
 Hart awoke in a room in a hotel on Fifth Ave- 
 nue. He looked across at the other bed and 
 saw that Minton, the half-back, was fast asleep, 
 doubled up like a ball. Hart went to the win- 
 dow. He had never been in the city until the 
 day before, when the team had arrived and 
 driven straight to the hotel. The avenue was 
 quiet, but at a window across the way a little 
 orange-and-black flag floated, and farther down 
 Hart could make out a great blue banner with 
 a huge Y upon it, stretching from one window 
 to another. 
 
 Minton had heard him stirring and stretched 
 himself sleepily. 
 
 " Good weather, eh ?" he grunted. "What 
 time is it? " 
 
 " Five o'clock," returned Hart, pulling a 
 watch out of a pocket. 
 
 " Skivings ! Is that so ? I 'm going to sleep 
 again." Minton turned over on his side and
 
 142 A Princetonian. 
 
 began to snore ; but Hart sat down in a chair 
 by the window. He marvelled at and envied 
 the half-back's capacity for repose. So far as 
 his own sensations went, he was never so wide 
 awake in all his life. It was the veteran and 
 the novice over again. But the difference in 
 temperament might be taken into account also 
 Minton always paled when confronted with 
 excitement, while Hart flushed, although he 
 never lost his head. 
 
 Just at this present moment Hart felt as 
 though he had swallowed a trip-hammer. He 
 looked at the soiled canvas suit spread out on 
 a chair, and the striped stockings, and would 
 have given the world to have put them on and 
 gone out to do battle on the instant he hated 
 suspense. Suddenly there was a knock on the 
 door and Franklin, fully dressed, came in. 
 
 " Look at that cold-blooded fish," the senior 
 chuckled, pointing at Minton. " And say, Pop, 
 how do you feel, old man, how 's the ankle ? " 
 he asked, slapping Hart on the shoulder. 
 
 " Out of sight," Hart returned. " How 's 
 your knee ? " 
 
 " First-rate," answered Franklin. " Let 's 
 go out and take a stroll before grub."
 
 The Man in the ' Varsity Sweater. \ 43 
 
 " Come ahead." 
 
 " Do you know it 's a strange thing," re- 
 marked Franklin, as they went out upon the 
 sidewalk, " I never get this way before a Har- 
 vard game. It only strikes me when we meet 
 the man with a Y on his shirt. I 'd give a 
 dollar to know if he feels the same way about 
 us." 
 
 Already a few coaches, decorated in blue or 
 the colors of old Nassau, were rumbling down 
 the avenue to pick up their patrons. The break- 
 fast hour passed and the food was swallowed 
 somehow. 
 
 " I wish to thunder," Elliott, the football 
 captain, observed, " that Jim would crack a 
 smile. He 's as glum as a hospital nurse." 
 
 " You never mind me," returned the trainer, 
 who had been carrying around a couple of spare 
 footballs all the morning, as if afraid some one 
 would steal them. " You just play your 'ardest, 
 that 's hall I hask of you." 
 
 The morning passed so quickly that it hardly 
 seemed an hour from the time of rising before 
 the team climbed on the coach and started 
 up-town for the battle ground ; all the town 
 seemed bound there also. The streets echoed
 
 144 A Princetonian. 
 
 with cheers, horns, and howling, and many a 
 clerk from the drygoods district imagined him- 
 self for the nonce a college man, and claimed 
 what he apparently thought were all the privi- 
 leges ; which resulted in many instances sad 
 to tell in his supposed alma mater falling into 
 disrepute. 
 
 Owing to Hart's turned ankle, he had not 
 played in the Harvard game, having been one 
 of the small army crouched along the side-lines 
 on that momentous occasion. But every 
 Princeton man knew that he was fit, and the 
 only weak spot in the line of striped legs was 
 now invulnerable. 
 
 More printer's ink has been expended in the 
 description of this one game than on some con- 
 flicts of the civil war perhaps ; and for the 
 detailed description of the plan of campaign, 
 see the daily press, or look into a college 
 scrap-book for that year. But the points of 
 view of reporter and spectator are very differ- 
 ent from that of the sweating, deep-breathing 
 individual, whose sensations and bruises are 
 taken into small account. He has little time 
 to notice anything but what is close to hand. 
 His ears are alert for the quarter-back's signals,
 
 The Man in the 'Varsity Sweater. 145 
 
 and the roaring of the thousands of voices 
 makes but an undertone, over which he must 
 not fail to hear orders. If he attends to duty 
 he sees but two things the man opposite and 
 the slippery oblong ball. 
 
 When it is all over, his heart is lead or feath- 
 ers, as the case may be, and he wonders where 
 the black and blue marks came from, and who 
 it was that gave him that frightful crack on the 
 jaw, but during the game he thinks of how 
 much he wants to win that 's all. 
 
 As the team clambered down from the 
 coach, upon their arrival at the grounds, and 
 elbowed their way through the roaring multi- 
 tude, Hart had a grin on his face that fixed 
 the corners of his mouth as if they had been 
 moulded. 
 
 " Holy smoke ! look at the size of him ! " ob- 
 served a flashy individual in a silk hat, pointing 
 with his cigar. 
 
 " Them 's the boys ! " cried a knotty-faced 
 little Irishman. " Them 's the Princetons ! " 
 
 Some of the crowd even extended their 
 hands and touched the players as they elbowed 
 their way toward the dressing-room. Once in- 
 side, there was a confusion of low talking and
 
 146 A Princetonian. 
 
 much stamping of heavy-cleated boots. Then 
 a graduate coach stood up in a corner and 
 gathered all about him. (They leaned on one 
 another's shoulders and listened breathlessly.) 
 He began his speech in this way : 
 
 " Now, I 'm going to talk to you fellows like 
 a Dutch uncle. Remember this " 
 
 There is no use in going into what the big 
 graduate with the light-blue eyes said, but if a 
 " Dutch uncle " speaks always in the manner he 
 did, he is the most earnest orator and the most 
 inspiring talker on the face of the green earth. 
 
 The confused jumble of sound from the out- 
 side suddenly raised itself into a well-defined 
 burst of cheering the other team was out ; 
 and, pulling off their sweaters, the ten men 
 from New Jersey, and the subs, followed their 
 captain at a dog-trot through the walls of 
 curious gorming faces and reached the field. 
 
 Hart looked about him, and it seemed as if 
 the world must be present on the bleachers 
 and the hillside ; the enclosed space was very 
 small. The grand stand, as the reporters put 
 it, " was a mass of moving color." 
 
 " High there, Pop, mind your eye ! " shouted 
 Minton, directly in front of him.
 
 The Man in the ' Varsity Sweater. 147 
 
 The little half-back was pale, his teeth were 
 showing, and he continually licked his lips and 
 rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his jersey. 
 
 Hart dove for the ball as it came bounding 
 toward him, and fell on it. A short distance 
 away a Yale man did the same thing, and rolled 
 over and over, and got to his feet Yale-fashion, 
 somehow. The full-backs were making practice 
 drop-kicks and punts, and the crowd was howl- 
 ing indiscriminately. Young men with badges 
 and walking-sticks appeared on the edges of 
 the field. But soon there came a silence, then 
 the flash of a coin, and Princeton won the 
 toss, taking the westward goal with the wind 
 behind them, and giving Yale the ball. 
 
 " On your toes, there, everybody ! " cried 
 Elliott. " They 're going to try our old flying 
 wedge, Buck. Get into them ! Look out, you 
 end rushers ! " He blew into his hands as if 
 his fingers were being frost-bitten. 
 
 A shrill whistle, and down came the charge 
 of the men in blue. The game was on ! Hart 
 felt as though he weighed a thousand pounds. 
 He plunged forward, and was first to meet the 
 crush of legs, and arms, and bodies. It rolled 
 over him like a sea, and underneath him, dou-
 
 148 A Princetonian. 
 
 bled up ; his straining fingers were searching 
 for the welcome touch of the smooth leather. 
 There it was locked tight in the grasp of the 
 thick-set captain from New Haven. 
 
 A futile struggle to obtain possession of it, 
 then the umpire poking about, managed to re- 
 duce the mass to order, and the teams lined 
 up. No longer now did Hart see the crowds 
 or hear the cheers and shouting ; no longer did 
 he think of who he was or what he was. There 
 was the goal, there was the ball, and there was 
 that wild-eyed, set-jawed man in front of him. 
 But oh ! the joyousness of the moment when 
 he got through the line unhampered ! Oh ! the 
 bound of his heart as he stopped the full-back's 
 kick (with a noise heard upon the hillside) and 
 saw nothing before him but the erratic leaps 
 of the ball as it twirled across the turf! If he 
 could only pick it up ! But just as he reached 
 forward something bumped him from behind 
 and he slipped and missed it. The Yale man 
 did the same thing, and at last a half-dozen 
 swooped down upon it at once. Another dis- 
 entangling of the squirming pile of striped legs 
 and blue elbows, and underneath was Minton, 
 laughing in a nervous chatter. Line up again !
 
 The Man in the ' Varsity Sweater. 1 49 
 
 And now backwards and forwards, gaining what 
 was lost and losing what was gained, they fought 
 it out. The steam rose from their soaking backs, 
 and lips grew dry and cottony, but the ball 
 stayed in the centre of the field. 
 
 Occasionally there were anxious, nervous 
 moments when time was being taken out and 
 a figure, for the instant limp or struggling, lay 
 on the ground, surrounded by a bending crowd 
 (prominent among which were a young man with 
 a bag, and an eager individual with a dirty, 
 soppy sponge) ; then a swaying, dizzy player, 
 lurching into line again, a cheer from all around, 
 or a substitute dashing up to fill a vacant place, 
 set things agoing. A minute more to play ! 
 Slowly the ball went down toward the eastern 
 goal. Thirty seconds more ! Fifteen yards 
 more to gain ! Would they kick, or try for 
 it ? A rush, a smash ! Five yards ! A kick 
 this time! Elliott skips backward. The centre 
 places his scratched fingers on the ball. Not 
 a sound from the grand stand. A spring for- 
 ward, confusion for an instant, and in the midst 
 of it the sharp blowing of the umpire's whistle, 
 and the world went crazy ! 
 
 The first half was over the result "no
 
 150 A Princetonian. 
 
 Back to the dressing-rooms again now, with 
 the policemen trying to make a path through 
 the surf and surgings of the mob. 
 
 Elliott was talking like one demented, stamp- 
 ing his feet and working his elbows. 
 
 " Never mind, never mind ! " he was crying. 
 " Oh, God, if we had had ten seconds more ! " 
 
 Another " Dutch uncle" was speaking: 
 
 " You held them down, but oh ! confound it, 
 boys, you can win ! Oh ! why don't you do it ! 
 Rogers, play in closer! Buck, don't let that 
 man get by you again ! Follow the ball ! Fol- 
 low that ball! Elliott, try their left end. Keep 
 hammering at it ; you gain there every time ! 
 Oh ! oh ! oh ! win ! There 's forty-five nice long 
 minutes ahead make use of 'em ! " 
 
 " It only seemed to me that we were out 
 there ten minutes," chuckled Hart to Frank- 
 lin. The left guard was rinsing out his mouth. 
 
 " This half will be long enough," he splut- 
 tered. " Hullo, we 're off again ! You did 
 well, old man ! " he added, slapping Hart on the 
 back. " Keep it up. I 'm proud of you ! " 
 
 If any one wishes to know the progress 
 of the second struggle (or the first for that 
 matter), he may be referred to the diagram
 
 The Man in the ' Varsity Sweater. 1 5 1 
 
 printed in the next morning's papers. To the 
 uninitiated it may look like an engineer's pro- 
 file platting, but it is well worth study. 
 
 Thirty-five minutes passed and it was the 
 same thing over again. To and fro, hammer 
 and hit, kick and return ; bruises, charges, and 
 countercharges, with long excursions toward 
 the goal. 
 
 Now, how the great thing happened Hart 
 never knew ; but suddenly, as he scrambled to 
 his feet, he saw a confusion down the field, off 
 to the right. The umpire was working like a 
 terrier at a rathole ; the crowds were standing 
 and still ; but a striped-legged individual sud- 
 denly leaped into the air, and, turning around, 
 addressed the gods at large with extended 
 arms, and then threw a handspring ! 
 
 Minton had the ball, and that was all there 
 was to it ! It was behind the Yale goal line ! 
 A hero had been made a championship de- 
 cided ! 
 
 What matters the rest ! More battering-ram 
 work in the centre of the field, and then in the 
 course of time the whistle blew. Time was up, 
 and there was another ball for the Princeton 
 trophy-room.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 HART was one of the many who returned to 
 Princeton by the first train. He had shaken 
 hands so many times and had listened to so 
 much loud talking and cheering that it had 
 palled on him he wished to be alone. 
 
 Before the train drew out of the station at 
 Jersey City, he found a seat in the rear of the 
 smoking-car next to a dusty-faced workman 
 who carried his dinner pail on his knees and 
 puffed at a black clay pipe. He was spelling 
 out the evening paper very audibly. 
 
 As Hart sat down the workman pointed out 
 the big type at the head of the printed page. 
 
 "The Tigers won," he said. 
 
 " So they did indeed," was the reply. " I 
 heard about it." With that Hart pulled his 
 hat over his eyes and fell to thinking. 
 
 This was the day he had waited for ! Now 
 152
 
 Consequences. 153 
 
 it was over, what did it amount to ? He could 
 not recall that he had done anything very re- 
 markable. In fact it appeared to him that he 
 had missed most of his opportunities. 
 
 " I did my level best, though," he muttered 
 half aloud ; and with that he tried to dismiss 
 foot-ball from his mind. 
 
 There was one thought, however, that kept 
 coming up over and over had she seen the 
 game ? But why should he care ? He would 
 never see those grey eyes again ; what right had 
 he to think of them at all. To-morrow morn- 
 ing he would have put everything behind him ; 
 he would be on his way to the West, to the 
 dreary, flat country, to the little one-horse 
 town, to the smell of ham and cinnamon in the 
 store fronting the half-deserted square. 
 
 As he remembered this, he wrinkled his 
 brows ; and tried to draw a mental picture of 
 Mabel Van Clees, with almost a prayer in his 
 heart that the image would thrill him, or at 
 least would comfort him. At last he suc- 
 ceeded, but the result was not satisfactory. 
 
 He could see Miss Van Clees standing before 
 the bureau in the sitting-room, her weak little 
 mouth pursed into a self-contented smile as
 
 154 ^ Princetonian. 
 
 from all angles she looked at her reflection in 
 the glass. The large hat she had designed and 
 trimmed herself from a picture in the Young 
 Ladies Gazette, set well back on her head. 
 Hart could hear her words, " Don't you think 
 it 's dashing, Newt ? " He closed his eyes ; why 
 should such a sneaking, mean little detail as 
 the patch of powder smudged on her nose in- 
 trude itself on him, he could not tell it was 
 rather unfair. 
 
 Yet this was the girl he expected to marry 
 that he was in duty bound to marry she loved 
 him, of course she did ; had he not kissed her 
 and was she not jealous when he danced with 
 other girls at the festivals ? He had cared for 
 her more than he had cared for any other girl 
 until the vision of some one very different 
 had come to drive everything else out of his 
 mind. Again he began to blame himself, as if 
 this were some fault of his own. He struck 
 his knees a blow with his closed fist and pulled 
 his hat further down over his eyes. 
 
 " Hullo, old man, you look a prey to remorse. 
 Come, smoke up and be joyful." 
 
 Newton looked quickly round as he felt a 
 hand laid on his shoulder. It was Betts who
 
 Consequences. 155 
 
 had caught sight of him and had hurried down 
 the aisle of the car. As he spoke, Putney ex- 
 tended a long cigar with a brilliant red and gold 
 surcingle ; then he struck a wax match and 
 held it out between his thumb and finger. 
 
 Hart accepted the offering and a feeling of 
 relief came over him as he took the first long 
 puff. 
 
 " It 's one of the Governor's best," said L. 
 Putney. " How does it go ? " 
 
 " Splendid. I 'd almost forgotten how." 
 
 "That 's one of the evils of training, I dare 
 say," Betts remarked. " But, come, brace up ; 
 the fellows are all singing up ahead here. Oh, 
 but there are going to be times on the campus 
 to-night. Come on ! " 
 
 Half reluctantly Hart followed across the 
 platform to the next car. It was filled with 
 undergraduates. How he wished with all his 
 soul that he could join in the clamor his ap- 
 pearance started the noise afresh. 
 
 " Oh, here 's to ' Pop Hart,' ' Pop Hart,' ' Pop 
 Hart ' ! " somebody started singing, and every 
 one joined in. 
 
 This was followed with " We love, we love, 
 we love our Princeton foot-ball team," in a roar
 
 156 A Princetonian. 
 
 of discord with one or two good voices ringing 
 above it. 
 
 " Get gay, Pop, we don't win a championship 
 every year ! " cried Terence Golatly, running up 
 the aisle. " By Jove, you played a great game," 
 he added encouragingly " sure you did." 
 
 But Hart could not " get gay." " I did n't 
 do much," he answered. Then seeing a vacant 
 seat he took it, and not till he sat down did he 
 see that Heaphy was beside him. 
 
 " This is a great day for you, eh ? " remarked 
 the young-man-with-a-purpose, looking around 
 half enviously as he extended his hand. 
 
 Hart muttered something in reply and 
 then relapsed into silence all at once he 
 turned. 
 
 " I 'm going to tell you something that I am 
 not going to tell any one else," he said touch- 
 ing Heaphy on the arm. " I 'm going to clear 
 out to-morrow going to leave college." 
 
 " And give it all up ! " asked Heaphy in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Have to please don't say anything I 'm 
 going to pack to-night and leave first thing in 
 the morning." 
 
 " Ah, don't do that ! " exclaimed Heaphy.
 
 Consequences. 157 
 
 "Let me talk to you er remember what I 
 said if you need any er help." 
 
 " I Ve got all the money I want for a time, 
 thank you ; it is n't that," Hart answered. " It 's 
 another strong reason." 
 
 " Oh," said Heaphy awkwardly, " I did n't 
 know can I see you to-night, eh? " 
 
 " Yes, come in about ten o'clock. I '11 be 
 glad to see you. I may tell you something 
 then, that I can't tell you now." 
 
 It was dark when the train stopped at the 
 little station. With a rush and a cheer the 
 crowd made for the campus. The freshmen's 
 duty was to collect anything for a blaze, any- 
 thing that would burn. The old cannon would 
 glow red before the morning. 
 
 Hart did not join in the rush that was made 
 for the door. He loitered behind and paid little 
 or no attention to the many invitations ad- 
 dressed to him by his hoarse young class- 
 mates. 
 
 " You '11 have to let me off. I Ve got to go 
 into my room," he said quietly to Jimmie James, 
 who had caught him by the sleeve. " But, 
 good luck to you, Jimmie. Run along and 
 chase your wood."
 
 :5& A Princetonian. 
 
 "We '11, see you later," said Jimmie, as he 
 started hot foot after the rest. 
 
 Hart jumped the fence and ran across lots 
 to Edwards Hall. Hurrying down the dingy 
 entry, he locked the door of his room behind 
 him. Now that he was face to face with his 
 thoughts, and there was nothing to disturb 
 him, he knew two things : he knew he hated to 
 bid farewell for good and all to this new life ; 
 that it was an end to his ambition. As he 
 thought of this with a quiver of bitter anguish, 
 he looked at the pile of books on the little pine 
 table it had been a keen delight to feel that 
 he was learning ; it was a pleasure to know that 
 his classmates looked up to him there was 
 even an accent of respect in this appellation, 
 " Pop." Then as he thought of the cheers 
 from the thousand throats that rose as he had 
 broken through the line, he felt that pleasur- 
 able sense of self-congratulation that is not self- 
 conceit. But it was all over all over. A 
 shudder shook him through and through. 
 What was he going to do ? He was going to 
 marry a girl he did not love. But in his inno- 
 cence of life he reasoned that he could grow to 
 love her by force of will he would make him-
 
 Consequences. 159 
 
 self content, and above all this he would do his 
 best to make her happy, come what might. 
 
 There was a great to do out on the campus ; 
 an amateur drum-corps was rattling a confused 
 march to the accompaniment of a tin-horn 
 band. Cheers sounded from the direction of 
 Old North, and suddenly there arose above the 
 shouts, a crackling that increased to a well de- 
 fined roar. Through the tree-tops beyond Clio 
 Hall Hart could see the flames of the huge 
 bonfire tearing up against the sky ; slowly the 
 light grew and spead until the fronts of East 
 and West Colleges glowed plain, their sombre 
 walls tinged with a red reflection ; black, hurry- 
 ing figures, some carrying loads, and others 
 merely dancing, scurried to and fro. There 
 was excitement in the smoky atmosphere. The 
 sharp, clear sound of a bugle rang out above 
 the clamor. 
 
 Hart stepped to the window. The scene 
 tempted him. He put back into his pocket 
 the time-table showing the west-bound trains 
 from Philadelphia, and opened the door ; there 
 was yet half an hour before the time that 
 Heaphy said that he would call, and he could 
 pack up his few belongings afterwards.
 
 160 A Princetonian. 
 
 As he turned to lower the gas he noticed 
 something on the door-sill ; he picked it up ; 
 it was a telegram addressed to him. As he 
 tore it open his heart was beating wildly, al- 
 though he knew not why. The words seemed 
 to speak out loud to him, startling and clear ; 
 but, strange to say, without at first a meaning. 
 He read them gasping ; then he closed the 
 door softly and sat down on the edge of the 
 bed, holding the bit of flimsy paper in his shak, 
 ing fingers. He read the words again : 
 
 " Bad news. M. ran off with S. T. Saunders, 
 of Snood & Co., last night. Mother and me 
 heart broke. Will write. 
 
 " M. R. VAN GLEES." 
 
 Now he knew what it meant he was free ! 
 He felt as if he had received a blow a blow 
 that he could not return ; yet no rage at being 
 robbed grew within him. 
 
 The cheering and shouts waxed louder, but 
 Hart did not hear them. So complex were his 
 feelings that a thought uppermost one moment 
 would be pushed out by another the next ; the 
 blood went in surges through his veins ; a pain 
 came through his temples. To a healthy man
 
 Consequences. 161 
 
 in this condition physical movement is an abso- 
 lute necessity. The body strives to restore an 
 equilibrium; the nerves are tense; to remain 
 inactive long is agony. 
 
 He twisted the telegram into bits, and with 
 an inarticulate sound, half groan, half curse, he 
 leaped to his feet. Picking up his hat he ran 
 from the room, leaving the gas burning and the 
 door wide open. 
 
 Full tilt he made for the wild scene about the 
 cannon. Two little freshmen were staggering 
 along, trundling a wheel-barrow loaded down 
 with a huge packing box filled with straw and 
 kindling-wood. 
 
 "Let me!" Hart cried, and pushing both 
 aside he grasped the handles. Dashing through 
 the ring about the fire, he ran the barrow and 
 its load deep into the flames ! 
 
 Immediately the fierce heat drove him back, 
 but a cheer went up and the sound of his name 
 echoed from the buildings.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A CHANGE OF FRONT. 
 
 THIS was the night that L. Putney Betts 
 gave a punch in his room ; of course it was 
 contrary to the college rules and might have 
 resulted in disaster, but it was a very nice, ex- 
 pensive punch, and had two bottles of cham- 
 pagne in it. 
 
 Betts being diplomatic had asked several 
 members of the sophomore class to come in 
 and partake of refreshments as honored guests. 
 The list was small, however, including only 
 those who had been known to him and Con- 
 greve and the rest of them before at Prep, 
 school. They had all accepted and by half-past 
 ten the punch was brewed. 
 
 Charlie Townes, whose appearance was large 
 but non-athletic, was responsible for the concoc- 
 tion. He had declared that it was " good " so 
 many times that Betts had broken out into the 
 following: 
 
 162
 
 A Change of Front. 1 63 
 
 " Why don't you stop tasting it and putting 
 things in it and give us a chance?" he cried, 
 to which Charlie had replied that it needed 
 just a dash more of something or other, and 
 proceeded to taste it again. 
 
 The first of the sophomoric guests to arrive 
 was Mudge, the Red-Headed ; he was followed 
 by Potter Clark, who liked everybody and had 
 no enemies ; and Biff Wainwright, who sang in 
 the glee club. Then there was a sound of loud 
 talking down the hall and Jack Stahl, the right 
 half-back on the eleven, came into the room 
 with a rush. 
 
 Under certain conditions Jack's behavior re- 
 sembled that of the traditional bull he could 
 break more things, accidentally, than any man 
 in college. Apparently he was a little flushed 
 and excited this evening, so Betts shoved the 
 handsome cigar box under the bed and hid a 
 huge Chinese jar in the closet. The freshmen 
 sat about quietly, and very politely the punch 
 was handed to the sophomores first, who imme- 
 diately drank to their own health with a plain 
 statement that they were " the people." Stahl 
 declared that the stuff was so good that he could 
 eat the glasses, and apparently started in to do
 
 164 A Princetonian. 
 
 it ; whereupon a struggle to prevent such a sad 
 calamity, took place between him and the rest 
 of his classmates on the divan. 
 
 Things had warmed up considerably by half- 
 past eleven when Briggs Talcott, who was 
 wandering around with a guitar swung about 
 him, troubadour fashion, came thrumming into 
 the room. Some very lusty and well-intentioned 
 singing took place, as might have been expected. 
 The sophomores condescendingly allowed the 
 freshmen to sing with them, and the latter dis- 
 covered that their enemies were not such bad 
 fellows after all, if they were rightly treated. 
 
 " Well, say, the president of your class is on 
 the rampage, is n't he ? " observed Talcott to 
 Jimmie James who was sitting back in a corner 
 smoking quietly. 
 
 " I don't know what became of him," Jimmie 
 answered. " He disappeared." 
 
 " He went off with some juniors, Ned Bliss 
 and some other fellows," put in Congreve. " I 
 told him to come over here. My ! but it would 
 be funny to see old Pop get in the game." 
 
 They did not know that at this moment 
 the dignified president of the class was on his 
 way to join this little gathering. He was not
 
 A Change of Front. 165 
 
 alone and it would probably have astonished 
 any member of the faculty, or Patrick Corse 
 Heaphy even, to have seen him at this moment. 
 
 Mounted on his shoulders was Terence Go- 
 latly, heading a procession of one person, 
 Tommy Wilson, breathless from his continued 
 imitation of a brass-band, to the music of 
 which Hart was cavorting and prancing, while 
 Terence saluted an imaginary crowd to right 
 and left. 
 
 " Whoa, whoa," shouted the rider, as his 
 steed dashed up the steps of University. There 
 was a wild shout of welcome as they galloped 
 into Betts's room, and a look of astonishment 
 crossed every face as the freshmen realized who 
 it was that had caused the uproar. With a 
 hasty wave of his hand Hart replied to the 
 greeting and breathlessly gulped down the con- 
 tents of a large china cup that was offered him. 
 
 The strong punch tingled into the tips of his 
 fingers. He held the cup out again it was 
 not the first that he had had that night. 
 
 Betts looked a little frightened as he ladled 
 out more punch. Some one started a chorus, 
 " Oh, here 's to Princeton College, drink her 
 down," which was loudly chanted and was
 
 1 66 Princetonian. 
 
 followed by, " Oh, here 's to " a great many 
 other things. 
 
 " You 've got a great voice, old man," said 
 Tommy Wilson to Hart. The latter was roaring 
 out a deep bass to one of the songs of rejoicing; 
 his face was red and his eyes were sparkling. 
 
 " Can't you get up and sing us something, 
 Pop ? " cried Potter Clark. " Briggs here will 
 play an accompaniment for you." 
 
 " Yes," was the answer. " Hold on, I '11 sing 
 you something." 
 
 The room was perfectly silent as he stood 
 up. Truly the class president was developing 
 in an entirely new direction. 
 
 The song was a plaintive, Swedish air; a 
 friend of his, the editor of the Oakland Chronicle, 
 had caught it and put words to it, and they 
 were far from bad. Hart had a round, full 
 voice, and as he stood there, firm and erect, he 
 sang with a depth of feeling that no one would 
 have thought he possessed. 
 
 Talcott had caught the accompaniment and 
 the swing of the simple melody. As he finished 
 there was a clapping of hands and a shout in 
 unison. Hart stood there a minute, then he 
 placed the china mug he had been holding, on
 
 A Change of Front. 167 
 
 the table, and took one step towards the 
 door. 
 
 "Good night," he said quietly, and walked 
 into the hall. 
 
 Somebody shouted after him but he had 
 hastened down the stairway and out of doors. 
 As he hurried down the street, heading for the 
 front campus, he could not account for the 
 sudden impulse that made him leave the room. 
 He had forgotten all about his engagement 
 with Heaphy. It was now long past the hour. 
 
 The embers of the fire about the cannon 
 were glowing, and the taint of smoke was in 
 the damp air. From various directions came 
 the sounds of a song or a chorus ; occasionally 
 a loud voice or two, or the twang of a banjo or 
 guitar rang out. But the hubbub and confusion 
 were over. 
 
 Hart stopped and leaning against one of the 
 trees, folded his arms. Back again came all 
 the thoughts that he had been so anxious to 
 escape. He wished now that he had not left 
 his companions. Why had he sung it anyhow ? 
 He remembered how Mabel used to sing it as 
 she played her accompaniment on the squeaky 
 parlor melodeon. Poor little Mabel ! What was
 
 1 68 A Princetonian. 
 
 going to become of her ? With this thought he 
 again grew angry with himself. Why was it 
 that over all his feelings triumphed one of 
 relief ? He apparently felt no chagrin at having 
 counted for so little in Miss Van Clees's affec- 
 tions. If she wished to be the wife of another 
 man, he hoped they would be happy ; but what 
 was he to do ? Yes, he was free to think of 
 some one else without disloyalty ! But would 
 not all his imaginings turn into vanity? Was 
 it not better for him to live and enjoy life, 
 to think of other things ; to take just what 
 might come along ! An impulse seized him to 
 return to University Hall, but at this moment 
 some one touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 "Hullo, it's Hart. Well met, by Jove. 
 Congratulate you on the game you played 
 to-day." 
 
 The speaker was Danforth, the bearded 
 senior. " Let me present Mr. Sprague," he 
 said. " Hollingsworth, you know." 
 
 Hart shook hands with a tall, unhealthy 
 looking young man, and nodded to Hollings- 
 worth who replied in the same way. 
 
 " I say," said Danforth, " come up to my 
 room and have a chat."
 
 A Change of Front. 169 
 
 "Got some fizz up there," put in Sprague. 
 " Better come." 
 
 Hart was about to decline. Then all at once 
 he changed his mind without any further 
 conversation they turned toward Witherspoon. 
 There was no doubt about it, Danforth pos- 
 sessed the power of interesting people, even 
 fascinating them. Many men and women had 
 spoken of this ; yet it could not be said that he 
 possessed the gift of winning or compelling any 
 lasting affection. Friends of the heart he had 
 none ; plenty of admirers in a certain way, and 
 companions of the mind, nothing more. He 
 was above that relation that makes friendly 
 criticism possible ; he made no self-acknowledged 
 mistakes. No one gave Raymond Danforth 
 any advice about his habits ; he gave the im- 
 pression of having calculated all the results, and 
 decided matters coolly and collectedly. He 
 said things worth remembering, and was often 
 quoted besides he was of age and wealthy. 
 
 Hart was astonished as he entered Danforth's 
 rooms. Although Betts's quarters in University 
 Hall were handsome, they did not begin to 
 have the luxury of Danforth's. A brilliant 
 Indian lamp hung in the middle of the room.
 
 1 70 A Princetonian. 
 
 A divan, half concealed by some rich colored 
 tapestry, occupied the window-seat. The walls 
 were covered with things of unusual interest 
 old musical instruments, bits of valuable plate, 
 and specimens of various enamels, for Danforth 
 was a collector of no mean order. On each 
 side of the fireplace stood a suit of Japanese 
 armor. Little carved ivory figures crowded the 
 mantlepiece. The book-case of black oak, bear- 
 ing a date of the middle ages, with monastic 
 facings, was filled with rare volumes. The 
 centre table alone showed evidences of work ; 
 books of reference and written manuscript cov- 
 ered it. A number of quill pens were standing 
 upright in a silver box filled with shot. 
 
 Hart could not conceal his interest. He was 
 closely examining one of the ivory carvings 
 when Danforth, who had returned from a trip 
 to the other room, spoke to him. 
 
 " Have a glass of wine, Mr. Hart," he said. 
 
 He extended a yellow, Venetian glass ; two 
 dragons were on each side for handles, and the 
 golden wine seethed and bubbled from the bot- 
 tom of it. Hart took it very gingerly. He 
 had never touched champagne before, but the 
 taste was not objectionable, and as Danforth
 
 A Change of Front. 171 
 
 raised his glass, a duplicate of the other one, to 
 his lips and drained it down, Hart did the same. 
 This was a very different style of drinking from 
 the riotous scene that he had left ; instead of 
 being filled with a wild excitement, a calm con- 
 tentment settled down upon him. A forgetful- 
 ness of self, a non-regard for responsibility, and 
 a desire only to enjoy the mental and moral 
 drift of the current on which he had embarked. 
 Another glass of champagne and he found him- 
 self listening to Danforth's conversation with a 
 grave delight. He had spoken of an object 
 that lay upon a little bracket against the wall, 
 a human hand, black and shining, with delicate 
 finger-tips and pointed nails. The wrappings 
 of mummy cloth were still plain about the 
 fracture at the wrist. Danforth was telling 
 something of it, its age and method of prepa- 
 ration. 
 
 " It belonged," he said, " to an Egyptian 
 king. An Arab stole it for me at my direction 
 a bit of devilish vandalism, I admit. It had 
 a ring upon the finger. I 'm wearing the stone 
 from that ring now." 
 
 It apparently gave the senior pleasure to talk 
 on of his possessions. His manner was so
 
 172 A Princetonian. 
 
 friendly and yet so polite, that a certain re- 
 spect for him began to grow in Hart's mind. 
 He did not hear the conversation that Sprague, 
 a rather hang-dog looking chap, and Kenmore 
 Hollingsworth were having together. 
 
 " Oh, he 's just drawing him out," Sprague 
 had remarked. 
 
 "Looks rather to be giving a lecture on 
 Egyptology," said Hollingsworth, with a con- 
 temptuous sneer on his handsome face. " It 
 beats my time what Ray can see in such a 
 countryman as that." 
 
 "A bit of fresh material to work on, besides 
 a foot-ball man feels big to-day," said Sprague. 
 " To-morrow night Ray '11 probably win all his 
 savings without turning a hair." 
 
 " Never 'd fease him," replied Hollingsworth, 
 whose speech was a little thick, and whose 
 weary blue eyes had a far-away expression. 
 " I say, talking of hands," he went on in a loud 
 voice, with a chuckle, seeing that Danforth was 
 just replacing the shrivelled object on the shelf, 
 " let 's throw some, eh ? " 
 
 " Perhaps Mr. Hart would join us in a little 
 game," said Danforth, in very much the po- 
 litely even tone in which he might ask a young
 
 A Change of Front. 1 73 
 
 lady if she would have a cup of tea. " You 
 play cards, of course, old man ? " he asked as 
 he opened a draw of the desk in a corner and 
 took out a rosewood box filled with red, white, 
 and blue ivory chips. 
 
 Rather to Hollingsworth's astonishment 
 Hart's reply was non-committal. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, " I Ve played a little, but 
 only whist or poker." 
 
 To tell the truth Hart had played penny- 
 ante, and, on one or two occasions, a quarter-of- 
 a-dollar limit, with Mr. Van Glees and the 
 sheriff, and had seen larger games take place 
 between the drummers at the hotel, but with 
 these latter gentlemen he had had little to 
 do. 
 
 Now it was a great surprise to find himself 
 taking things so coolly. He hardly recognized 
 himself at all ; he felt a careless exhilaration 
 that if he had paused to reason over, might 
 have frightened him. He had strange illusions 
 about life, the present and the future creeping 
 into his head at odd minutes. 
 
 When he sat down at the table, he manifested 
 no surprise at the high limit of the game, and 
 calmly opening his worn wallet he paid for a
 
 1 74 A Princetonian, 
 
 pile of assorted reds and blues with a twenty- 
 dollar bill. 
 
 Hollingsvvorth yawned as the first cards were 
 dealt. Between him and Sprague a bottle of 
 champagne rested in a silver-plated cooler on 
 the floor. 
 
 Again and again was Hart astonished at his 
 own sensations ; he wondered at his coolness 
 as he played his hands. No old gambler could 
 have been more imperturbable. 
 
 Danforth was regarding him with admiration, 
 Sprague was muttering in thick accents beneath 
 his breath, and Hollingworth's head would occa- 
 sionally pitch forward on his chest, a motion 
 which would be followed by a defiant glare 
 around the table. 
 
 Such luck could scarcely be imagined as that 
 in which Hart played. It required little skill for 
 him to win. But all at once fortune showed 
 her fickleness and the tide turned toward Dan- 
 forth. Slowly the pile of ivory counters dimin- 
 ished and as the excitement of winning left 
 him, a weariness came over Hart's eyes. Sud- 
 denly he realized that there was nothing more 
 for him to play with ; that Danforth had appar- 
 ently swept the cloth. With a curse Sprague
 
 A Change of Front. 1 75 
 
 threw his cards upon the board and, lurching 
 upright, started for the door. But before he 
 reached it he fell sideways against the divan, 
 and lay there face downward and open-mouthed. 
 Hart, who had risen as if to catch him felt the 
 floor move sideways beneath his feet, but his 
 brain was clear, and clutching the back of a 
 chair, he steadied himself in an instant. Dan- 
 forth was as nimble as if not a drop had passed 
 his lips. 
 
 " Well, that was sudden," he said calmly ; 
 " come, bear a hand, old man, and let 's get him 
 off to bed." 
 
 They picked up the helpless mass and carried 
 it into the other room, where Danforth, with a 
 grim smile, began slowly to unlace Sprague's 
 shoes. After the task had been finished, they 
 returned to the study. 
 
 "What, another one," Danforth chuckled, 
 pointing toward the table. 
 
 Kenmore Hollingsworth, with his arms 
 stretched out before him and his curly 
 head resting on his shoulder, sat there fast 
 asleep. 
 
 " Don't touch him," said Danforth, " he likes 
 to be left alone."
 
 1 76 A Princetonian. 
 
 He spoke as if this was the usual method of 
 Hollingsworth's retiring. Hart accepted it 
 without the slightest questioning. 
 
 " I think I '11 go to my room," he said at 
 last, " I 'm much obliged to you for your hos- 
 pitality." 
 
 " No, don't hurry," said Danforth, " have a 
 cigar before you go no? hold on, by Jove, I 
 think I '11 walk over with you." And with his 
 hand resting lightly on Hart's arm the senior 
 walked down the entry. 
 
 As they came out on the stone flagging Dan- 
 forth paused. 
 
 " There is always something grand to me in 
 the gray of morning before sunrise ! I Ve seen 
 a great many of them, first and last," he said. 
 " Have n't you ever felt it the sensation of 
 having a bigger breathing-space of possessing 
 a great advantage over all those people who 
 are asleep and miss it ? " 
 
 " It 's a great sight to see the sun get up above 
 the edge of the prairie," Hart answered. " But 
 I never could tell what it was that made me 
 feel it all through me." 
 
 "We don't put all of our sensations into 
 words," said Danforth. " He who can express
 
 A Cliange of Front. 177 
 
 his every thought is a mere creature of language 
 er, that 's not original." 
 
 They had strolled about the corner and had 
 arrived at the entrance to Edwards'. Here 
 Danforth bade good-morning and, turning, 
 walked away without looking back. 
 
 Hart sat down on the doorstep. Although 
 it was damp and chilly his coat was open and 
 his skin felt hot and feverish. A strange bodily 
 weariness was on him, but his brain had begun 
 to whirl again in ever changing thoughts. Now 
 and then it appeared to him that his heart beat 
 faster for a moment, only to slow down again. 
 What strange happenings had taken place in 
 the last few hours. What new chapter had he 
 opened and what unknown capacities had he dis- 
 covered within himself ! Where would it lead ? 
 What did it mean ? He arose to his feet and 
 to his surprise almost reeled against the side of 
 the doorway. The morning light had broadened, 
 and the sun was up above the clouds. A line 
 of mist hung over the canal to the eastward. 
 There was a smell of freshness and salt in the 
 air, as if the wind that was from the distant sea 
 had brought the taint of it. From the direction 
 of the railroad station there came the sound of
 
 1 78 A Princetonian. 
 
 escaping steam. This was the morning he had 
 intended to clear out and leave all behind him. 
 How differently had things ended ! 
 
 He passed his hand wearily across his fore- 
 head and entering the building walked down 
 the hall to his room. The door was open and 
 the gas was burning; he turned it out and 
 threw himself heavily on the bed.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE WRONG TACK. 
 
 WINTER had come ; December was on the 
 wane. Heaphy was sitting in his room at his 
 desk, very late one evening. He had just fin- 
 ished writing out the translation of some Latin 
 text. It was a good translation but his hand- 
 writing appeared (despite his best efforts to 
 make it clear and legible) like that of a man well 
 used to the swinging of an axe, or the guiding 
 of a plow. It was growing dark, and he stopped 
 his scribbling and rubbed his eyes. Then he 
 rose, gave a loud sigh, and wiping his pen care- 
 fully upon a bit of blotting-paper stepped to the 
 window. 
 
 It had been snowing all the day just passed ; 
 the outlines of everything were softened by the 
 white covering, and the paths that led from one 
 building to another were undisturbed except 
 for an occasional footprint. The vacation stamp 
 was in the very stillness of the air. To-morrow 
 179
 
 180 A F*rincetonian. 
 
 would be Christmas ! Heaphy was feeling ex- 
 ceedingly unhappy. He had declined two invi- 
 tations to leave college and spend the holidays ; 
 one was from a former schoolmaster and the 
 other from a high official in the trust Company 
 that was as yet Heaphy's legal guardian. Often 
 had he acknowledged his bitter loneliness, for he 
 possessed not a single relative, so far as he knew, 
 in the outside world, and there was none here 
 united to him by the close bonds of friendship. 
 
 He heard a door slam, down the entry, and 
 footsteps approaching his room. He knew in 
 a minute that it was Hart. The latter opened 
 the door after a hurried knock, and stood there 
 looking in. 
 
 " Why don't you light a light ? " he said at 
 last. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," returned Heaphy, 
 and jumping up he began to do so forthwith. 
 "Come in," he said, when he had finished. 
 " Have a chair." Then he sat down at the 
 desk again. 
 
 Hart walked over to the position at the win- 
 dow that Heaphy had left and watched the 
 soggy wet flakes of snow fall slowly through the 
 ray of light down to the white earth. Heaphy
 
 The Wrong Tack. 181 
 
 had resumed his work and it was evident that 
 the two young men were either on very good 
 terms with one another, or exactly the opposite, 
 for they did not speak. But the truth of the 
 matter was that Heaphy had been both hurt 
 and angered by Hart's conduct for some time 
 past and was rather sulky. One glance at Hart 
 would have shown how much he had altered in 
 the last four months. He was thinner and at 
 present his face had rather a worn look ; but 
 his eyes were bright and despite the frown on 
 his forehead, and a worried turn in the corner of 
 his mouth, his superb health was evident. 
 
 " Why were n't you at Latin, last recitation ? " 
 asked Heaphy, at last. 
 
 " Just took a cut," Hart replied. " Think I 
 can stand it." 
 
 Heaphy whirled in his chair. A flush as of 
 anger clouded his face but he restrained himself. 
 
 " I don't think you are very happy," he said, 
 rubbing his knees and leaning forward. " Are n't 
 you making some mistakes, eh, now?" 
 
 Hart paused before he replied. " I don't think 
 I '11 ever be very happy that 's a fact," he said. 
 " And as for mistakes, I suppose they 're my 
 own ; but there 're some mistakes in life."
 
 1 82 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Ah, that is n't the way to look at things," 
 Heaphy began. " Life is a good deal like a 
 book. What you get out of it does not de- 
 pend so much upon what is written there as 
 what you bring to it yourself." 
 
 Hart shot a curious glance out of the corner 
 of his eye. 
 
 " That 's true," he said, leaning back against 
 the wall. " You can make it dull or interest- 
 ing. At present I am not so sure but that I 
 enjoy myself very much at times." 
 
 " But, are you satisfied ? " asked Heaphy. 
 
 " I don't know that I ever shall be." 
 
 " There 's something on your mind," said the 
 young-man-with-a-purpose, running his fingers 
 through his shock of hair. He stood up and 
 shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 
 "You want responsibility and work." 
 
 Hart laughed rather oddly. 
 
 "Yes, you do," returned Heaphy. "Incen- 
 tive is the great thing. You ought to want 
 something." 
 
 " Supposing what you want you know 
 you can't get," Hart returned ambiguously. 
 " What 's left then ? " 
 
 " Eh ? Work, of course."
 
 The Wrong Tack. 183 
 
 " If that were so, what 's the matter with 
 pleasure and interest ? " inquired Hart. 
 
 " It won't last. I Ve tried it myself," an- 
 swered Heaphy. 
 
 Hart picked up the 'Varsity sweater that he 
 had dropped over the back of a chair. He 
 began to struggle into it with a good deal of 
 swinging and twisting of his arms about his 
 head. When he had emerged, Heaphy was 
 standing directly in front of him. He caught 
 him by both elbows. 
 
 " Don't think me interfering, but I wish I 
 could help you somehow." 
 
 Hart replied to this in a low tone, but with 
 an impatient shrug. 
 
 " It 's all right," he said. " I 'm just trying 
 to enjoy myself, because " 
 
 " Because, why ? " 
 
 " Because there is n't anything else to 
 do." 
 
 " Well, you know your own mind," Heaphy 
 returned somewhat testily. 
 
 " No," said Hart, " I don't ; that 's the funny 
 part of it." With that he hurried off into the 
 snow. 
 
 If there was one characteristic about him, it
 
 184 A Prince Ionian. 
 
 was that he was perfectly truthful with him- 
 self, or he tried to be. 
 
 What he was doing he was doing very delib- 
 erately, with the hope in his mind that at least 
 he might find it satisfying. His common sense 
 made it plain to him that no lasting good would 
 come from this careless, false philosophy, but 
 he imagined that it afforded him relief relief 
 from pondering over an apparently hopeless 
 situation. Mere work in the abstract without 
 an object held no distraction for him. It did 
 not forestall the imaginings that he knew were 
 vain the desire of the moth for the star. It was 
 the mere relaxation that he was after. He had 
 tried to ridicule himself out of his attitude ; he 
 had tried to reason himself free, but no, it would 
 not do. At night he dreamed of her ; by day, 
 if he did not curb himself he would have walked 
 alone, breathed her name to the air, or he might 
 have carved it on the trees. All this may have 
 gone to prove that he was very different from 
 the average run of his fellows, and perhaps 
 should have lived centuries ago when men al- 
 lowed themselves to do such things. How 
 strange it would have been if he could have 
 replied to Heaphy's questions with the simple
 
 The Wrong Tack. 185 
 
 words : " I am in love ; that is what is the mat- 
 ter." What sort of an explanation would that 
 be? 
 
 It was a desire to escape his thoughts and 
 not the companionship of his classmates that 
 made him seek stronger distractions than the 
 limited possibilities and temptations that the 
 freshmen generally afforded. Their principal 
 occupation consisted in getting " grinds " on 
 one another and giving strange nicknames to 
 common objects. This did not amuse him. 
 The friendship with Danforth afforded him 
 much diversion, and, although he had not gam- 
 bled since the first occasion, because he knew 
 that he could not afford to lose, and for no 
 other reason, many a night he and the senior 
 had sat up until the short hours of past mid- 
 night talking. He was not drifting altogether 
 aimlessly, for two things he had determined 
 upon : one was to stay out this year at college 
 and then to leave and work with hands or 
 brain, because it would be necessary for him 
 to do that, that he might live. The sum of 
 money he had saved, intending it to last him 
 at least two years would be gone, at the pres- 
 ent rate of living, long before the blossoms
 
 1 86 A Princetonian. 
 
 of the coming spring would have left the 
 trees. 
 
 He kicked the snow ahead of him as he 
 walked down the path under the leafless elms. 
 " Oh, if I could but see her once again ! " he 
 said aloud as he thought of the time when he 
 had watched her in the little church at Orange. 
 But Bliss had hardly spoken to him on the cam- 
 pus for some time past, and Hollingsworth and 
 he met but occasionally in Danforth's rooms. 
 Hart felt rather constrained when he was there. 
 What would he say if he only knew ? But no 
 one would know ; there was no one he could 
 tell. On he rushed into the snowy night, as if 
 he could leave his thoughts behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 SPRING TERM. 
 
 IT was a very early spring ; warm weather 
 had come before the little patches of snow that 
 lingered about the roots of the trees had fairly 
 gone. The birds and the buds had seemed to 
 come all at once, as if the latter had started at 
 the first bluebird's note. Nature was prepared 
 to give that wondrous leap from April into 
 June. 
 
 The afternoon lectures and recitations were 
 over and groups of undergraduates crossed the 
 campus in all directions, some heading for their 
 rooms, and some walking over towards Nassau 
 street, calling back for one or another to come 
 and join them. 
 
 Ned Bliss and Manager Bishop, with locked 
 
 arms, crossed the muddy street and entered a 
 
 rather disreputable-looking alley. They turned 
 
 into a door-way on the right and entered the 
 
 187
 
 1 88 A Princetonian. 
 
 big room at Dohm's, where the undergraduate 
 drinks, sings, and, when very hungry, eats. 
 Bishop sat down on one of the hard wooden 
 chairs, and took out his pocket-knife. Bliss 
 shouted an order at the waiter. Then he did 
 some very skilful balancing on the back legs of 
 his chair while Bishop began to whistle very 
 correctly and loudly. 
 
 " Hear Pop Hart got on the Glee Club," 
 said Ned at last. 
 
 " Oh, I knew he 'd get on the club as soon 
 as I heard his voice," returned the manager, 
 who was adding his name to the many carved 
 on the top of the stained brown table. " He 's 
 got one of those round, full bases like Thomp- 
 son's in '87. You remember hearing him when 
 you were at Prep, school, don't you ? He '11 sing 
 second bag for us all right ; we needed him." 
 
 Ned was making rings with the bottom of 
 his beer-glass while the manager was talking ; 
 suddenly he looked up. 
 
 " I never saw such a change come over a man 
 in my life," he said quietly. " You know I was 
 attracted to him at first by his naturalness, by 
 his self-reliant manner and simplicity. He 's 
 lost a deal of the last."
 
 Spring Term. 189 
 
 " All goes to show," replied Bishop, looking 
 up from his whittling, " that success is hard to 
 stand. The whole thing 's developed from his 
 playing on the winning 'Varsity team. I won- 
 der if the faculty have talked it over, or if they 
 have noticed anything at all." 
 
 " Outside of cutting recitations, it is n't usual 
 for a freshman to become chummy with a 
 senior, and the leader of the fastest set in col- 
 lege, at that. Hart does n't travel with his 
 classmates any more, you know. I think they 
 are getting a little bit soured on him. Now, 
 Danforth is an interesting chap," Ned went on. 
 
 " I '11 admit that. He has ideas galore " 
 
 " But mighty little principle," put in Bishop. 
 " But it 's strange how Pop Hart has changed. 
 He's lost all that Western hoosier-look." 
 
 " Well, why should n't he," resumed Ned. 
 " He 's wearing a suit of clothes made by Dan- 
 forth's tailor now ; so Sharky Sprague says. 
 There 's a pill for you, that fellow Sprague. 
 They make a combination, that crowd : a senior, 
 two juniors, and the president of the freshmen 
 class." 
 
 " You know a funny thing about that Hart 
 never behaved like a freshman to me."
 
 1 90 A Princetonian. 
 
 " That 's because he did 'nt feel like one, I 
 suppose," Bishop said, closing his penknife with 
 a snap. " We seem to be taking an uncommon 
 lot of interest in it. What do you think of 
 that work of art ? " pointing to his name freshly 
 cut in the table-top. 
 
 " Sure you Ve spelled it right? " Bliss asked 
 with a laugh. 
 
 Suddenly two figures came in through the 
 side door. Tommy Wilson had a fisherman's 
 sou'wester on his head ; a brown leather shoot- 
 ing-coat, and rubber thigh-boots completed his 
 costume. Fred Minton dressed in a long-cape 
 mackintosh followed him. 
 
 " It 's raining, by jinks," said Tommy Wilson, 
 with a noisy stamping of his boots. " I say, you 
 fellows, let 's go into one of those inside rooms. 
 Tad Elliott's coming over in a few minutes." 
 
 Bliss and Bishop rose, and the four juniors 
 passed through the side door. 
 
 Dohm's would have possessed an interest for 
 the stranger of an exploring turn of mind. 
 The low wooden building had as many passage- 
 ways and strange out-of-the-way corners and 
 recesses as the catacombs. Upstairs or down- 
 stairs you might travel, and to right and left
 
 Spring Term. 191 
 
 find bare little rooms with pine tables and 
 wooden chairs. One room might be occupied 
 by a noisy, singing crowd, while the next by a 
 quiet, beer-sipping group, discussing science or 
 religion, politics or football. Colored waiters, 
 in long white aprons, now and then whisked 
 out of one passage-way and down another. A 
 short cut to some of those isolated apartments 
 was through the backyard, saving the time 
 spent in penetrating the labyrinth of dark hall- 
 ways. Led by Tommy Wilson, the juniors 
 descended two or three steps, crossed the yard, 
 opened the door of a room and seated them- 
 selves. No sooner had they done so than 
 Elliott, the foot-ball captain, appeared just as the 
 waiter struck a sputtering sulphur match and 
 lit the lamp. 
 
 " Had a strange time last night," Elliott be- 
 gan. " Happened to go into Danforth's room, 
 and found Pop Hart." 
 
 " As usual," said Ned Bliss. " He does n't 
 seem to go with his own classmates any more, 
 I just said to the manager. He 's had too 
 many privileges, I 'm thinking." 
 
 " Well, what about the evening ? " said some 
 one.
 
 192 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Oh, yes," Elliott returned. "When I went 
 into the room I found Danforth and Hart deep 
 in an argument. You know what a keener 
 Raymond Danforth is on an argument, espe- 
 cially in political history and sich ; well, upon my 
 word, he was getting the worst of it. They 
 didn't pay any attention to me and I just sat 
 there and took it all in." 
 
 " I don't think that was very exciting," put 
 in Tommy Wilson, thumping on the table and 
 calling for the waiter at the top of his voice. 
 
 " Well, it was n't that," Elliott went on, " but 
 the fact that a bottle of Teacher's Scotch was 
 on the table, it must have been filled when they 
 started, and they kept dipping into it and dip- 
 ping into it. They paid every attention to 
 parliamentary rules and laws of debate, and, 
 although I have a sneaking suspicion that Dan- 
 forth saw some humor in the situation, I am 
 sure Hart did n't." 
 
 " Oh, he 's earnest enough in anything he 
 takes up ; the only trouble is he ought n't to 
 take up the wrong thing," said Bliss ; " sip, sip 
 is bad business." 
 
 " Hear he got on the Glee Club," chuckled 
 Elliott.
 
 Spring Term. 193 
 
 "Yes," answered Manager Bishop, " he 's got 
 a bully good voice." 
 
 After some more conversation upon various 
 topics, the party at Dohm's broke up and went 
 out into the drizzling rain. 
 
 Minton took one of the others under the 
 shelter of his mackintosh while the rest of 
 them attempted to crowd under the one um- 
 brella in the party. Just at the entrance they 
 passed two hurrying figures who were walking 
 arm in arm. 
 
 " There they go ! " exclaimed Elliott over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 The two figures were Pop Hart and Dan- 
 forth. The latter had not been popular enough 
 to be elected into any of the exclusive junior 
 or senior clubs, so with three or four of his 
 satellites, he dined at a little place down Nassau 
 Street ; and his lack of general popularity 
 seemed not to effect him in the least. 
 
 Hart and he were hurrying toward the sta- 
 tion they were bound for New York. It 
 was Danforth's determined intention to put in 
 practice a long fostered scheme to show the 
 unsophisticated Westerner " the town." The 
 pleasure that he would derive from it would
 
 194 A Princetonian. 
 
 be from listening to Hart's comments, or wit- 
 nessing his sensations. 
 
 For all his frankness and simplicity Hart 
 had always kept a certain reserve, and this the 
 senior would like to have seen broken down. 
 He knew well that he should be careful to 
 give Hart no offence : it was an interesting 
 game that he had to play, and he doubted 
 more than once whether he could ever obtain 
 a domination over him in any way. But there 
 was a secret of some kind that Hart held that 
 Danforth wished to know just from curiosity. 
 
 As the two young men reached the station, 
 they were met by Danforth's servant who 
 carried their bags. 
 
 " I have telegraphed ahead," said Danforth, 
 " to have a dinner ready for us and we '11 have 
 just about time to dress. 
 
 Hart paused on the platform of the car. It 
 seemed longer than eight months ago that he 
 had arrived there with his paper parcel under 
 his arm, and the bag he now carried was very 
 different from the old one ; he was very dif- 
 ferent from what he was then, life was very 
 different ! How it would all end he did not 
 know, and he did not wish to think about it.
 
 Spring Term. 195 
 
 One thing he knew, however, and regarded it, 
 strange to say, without much dismay. He was 
 rapidly reaching the end of his financial tether. 
 But if any one had asked him what he had 
 gained, or whether it all had paid he could not 
 have answered ; there was a sensation of loss, 
 also, that came over him at times.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A CHANGE OF PURPOSE. 
 
 " THERE are two kinds of remorse and two 
 only," said Raymond Danforth, as he leaned 
 across the table at Delmonico's. 
 
 " What are they ? " Hart asked. 
 
 " Physical and financial. That is, if you feel 
 well, there is no use having any regret for 
 something which you Ve done that 's past and 
 gone. And, if your pocket-book is in good 
 condition, you can't feel very bad any how. 
 A full pocket-book is a great salve to the feel- 
 ings a balm to regret, eh ? " 
 
 Hart paused a moment, before he replied. 
 He had held conversations with Danforth such 
 as he had held with no one else before ; per- 
 haps he had absorbed a little of the senior's 
 pessimism but he was too individual to come 
 directly under his influence. 
 
 "What you say may be all right," he 
 answered, " but you Ve left out conscience." 
 196
 
 A Change of Purpose. 197 
 
 " Glad I did," Danforth returned, " it 's the 
 most shocking thing in human construction, 
 and should be killed at an early age in chil- 
 dren. It leads them to all sorts of morbid 
 thoughts and actions and to unnatural conduct 
 toward other people. Upon my soul, I rejoice 
 to say I have n't any." 
 
 Hart looked at him wonderingly. " I Ve 
 got one that I don't want to kill," he said 
 thoughtfully ; "at least I suppose I have." 
 
 " Mental indigestion wish you joy of it," 
 Danforth replied. " Hullo, there are some of 
 your kids over there, aren't they? What are 
 they in town for? " 
 
 Hart looked across the room. Simeon Con- 
 greve and L. Putney Betts had taken possession 
 of a corner table. They looked very neat and 
 young in their evening dress and immaculate 
 ties, and Congreve's collar was so high that it 
 made one nervous to watch him turn his head. 
 
 " Why don't you go over and speak to 
 them ? " Danforth said, seeing that this idea 
 was in Hart's mind. " You '11 have time 
 enough." 
 
 Hart pushed back his chair and walked tow- 
 ards the freshmen.
 
 1 98 A Princetonian. 
 
 " I can't believe it 's the same chap," said 
 Congreve looking stiffly across at Betts. 
 
 There was a little embarrassment in the 
 meeting, as if Hart had been an upper-class man 
 who had come to greet them. Hart did not 
 know that his growing intimacy with Dan- 
 forth had excited adverse comment among his 
 classmates. He would have regretted it most 
 likely, but being independent to the verge of 
 obstinacy, it would have made little matter 
 to him. 
 
 " What are you going to do to-night ? " he 
 asked Betts, as he leaned over the table. 
 
 " Going to the opera," Putney replied. 
 
 " That 's just what we are going to do," Hart 
 said eagerly. " You know, I Ve never been, in 
 my life, and have n't the slightest idea of what 
 it 's like. Funny, eh ? They won't have a 
 hayseed like me in the audience every time." 
 
 " You might let them know you 're coming," 
 put in Congreve. 
 
 " That 's a good idea," laughed Hart. " Give 
 them warning, eh ? " 
 
 After a few words more of friendly banter, 
 he returned to Danforth who was waiting to 
 remove the cover from the soup.
 
 A Change of Purpose. 1 99 
 
 The president of the freshmen class was very 
 well dressed in a well-fitting suit of evening 
 clothes, and it was rather hard to imagine that 
 so few months ago he had arrived at the station 
 with the paper bundle under his arm and a 
 shoe-string necktie around his throat. But the 
 strange thing about it all was that with all this 
 metamorphosis of habiliment there was no 
 affectation of speech or manner. He was more 
 at his ease perhaps with strangers, but the in- 
 dividual man had changed but little ; he had 
 picked up not a little of the knowledge that 
 can seldom be learned from reading. 
 
 " Now, I dare say, old chap," observed Dan- 
 forth across the table, " that our being seen 
 together has excited a great deal of talk. Seniors 
 don't very often travel with freshmen, you 
 know." 
 
 " Let them say what they like," Hart replied. 
 " Upon my word, I care mighty little. Cer- 
 tainly I am free to choose my friends ; and, 
 honestly, some of my own class are pretty 
 young. What are these little pink things in the 
 soup?" he asked suddenly after a pause. 
 
 " Oyster crabs," returned Danforth, " never 
 tasted them before, did you ? "
 
 2oo A Princetonian. 
 
 " Don't grow out our way. They 're good 
 eating." 
 
 Thus it went on through the dinner. Hart, 
 natural, unassuming, and perfectly frank, and 
 unsophisticated enough to be amusing. The 
 conversation consequently was such as might 
 pass between two men who knew each other 
 well. It was not until the end of the meal, 
 over the coffee, that they fell into some discus- 
 sion and in the midst of it Danforth suddenly 
 looked up at the clock and pursed his lips into 
 a whistle. 
 
 " Hue ! " he ejaculated, stroking his beard, 
 " we have missed most of the first act with our 
 gabble. Come on, we '11 run out and get a cab." 
 
 As they entered the foyer of the Opera 
 House, Hart was impressed with the deliber- 
 ateness with which the people walked about. 
 They seemed to be much at home. It was not 
 a rush to get in and settled in deadly fear of 
 missing something, they stopped and chatted, 
 and all wore the unmistakable air of having 
 been there before. But the novelty appealed 
 so strongly to him that, as he sat down in his 
 comfortable stall, a sense of bewilderment came 
 over him. The brilliant boxes and the glare
 
 A Change of Purpose. 201 
 
 of light, the immense circle, the movement of 
 fans, and the gleam of bare jewelled arms all 
 these were new to him. It appeared to him as 
 though he had suddenly grown into another 
 life and was the inhabitant of another world. 
 
 The opera was " Carmen." It was the scene 
 in the court-yard of the inn. In less than five 
 minutes Hart had forgotten the crowd about 
 him and, so far as he knew, he sat there all 
 alone. The music swayed him with a delight 
 that made him breathless. Danforth was sit- 
 ting beside him leaning well back, and watch- 
 ing his face. Although the opera and the 
 music was an old story to him, he was reflect- 
 ing the enjoyment that his companion felt. 
 
 At last the act was over, and the curtain fell. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of that?" Dan- 
 forth asked, as Hart looked around at him. 
 
 " I can't exactly tell you," was the answer. 
 " I wish I understood the story." 
 
 " It 's all here in the program," Danforth re- 
 turned, pointing out with his finger. " Read 
 it while I look about the house." 
 
 He swept the arches above him with his 
 glass, while Hart buried himself in the fortunes 
 of Carmen of Sevilla.
 
 2O2 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Hello, there are the Hollingsworths ! " 
 ejaculated Danforth all at once. Hart 
 looked up. 
 
 " Where ? " he asked. 
 
 "Right there to the left below that big, 
 hideous woman in the blue gown see, the 
 one with the diamonds." 
 
 Yes, there they were, to be sure. He recog- 
 nized Miss Hollingsworth sitting in the front 
 of the box. Her mother sat next to her, and 
 behind her appeared an array of white shirt- 
 fronts. A strange, uncomfortable thumping 
 came into Hart's breast. A half-frightened 
 feeling that destroyed his peace of mind. He 
 drew a long breath. Just as he looked up 
 toward the box, Miss Hollingsworth raised her 
 glass and looked down at the people in the 
 seats below. 
 
 " Jove, she *s a hummer," said Danforth. 
 " See, she 's bowing to us look, she sees 
 us." 
 
 Hart nodded confusedly, and an instant later 
 Danforth jumped up. 
 
 " By Jove, I 'm going up to speak to her," 
 he said. " Come along, man, don't miss an 
 invitation like that."
 
 A Change of Purpose. 203 
 
 Hart arose after him and followed out into 
 the foyer and up the velvet-carpeted staircase. 
 Groups of well-dressed men were chatting on 
 all sides, or by twos and threes were strolling 
 up and down. Now and then one would rush 
 over, open the door leading to one of the boxes, 
 and disappear. There was a constant passing 
 to and fro. But he had begun to wonder at 
 himself. Actually, to the best of his recollec- 
 tion, he had never felt so frightened in his life. 
 No; not even when he had looked into Bord 
 M'Govern's angry eyes, as the latter had reached 
 for his revolver. His throat was absolutely dry 
 from fear, and fear of what ? Nothing tangi- 
 ble the fear of meeting a tall, stately figure, 
 the back of whose head and whose bare shoul- 
 ders he could see as she turned to speak to one 
 of the little court behind her. At last Dan- 
 forth found room to press forward and speak 
 to Mrs. Hollingsworth, much to the discomfort 
 of an old, gray-mustached gentleman with a 
 single eye-glass, who glared angrily, almost hun- 
 grily, at the little senior. 
 
 After a minute's conversation with the 
 mother, Danforth spoke to Miss Hollings- 
 worth, whom he had already greeted.
 
 204 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Pop Hart, the big freshman, is in the back 
 of the box, you remember meeting him, don't 
 you ? " he said in a whisper. 
 
 In reply Miss Hollingsworth glanced over 
 her shoulder, and extended her hand in a 
 graceful little way. Hart stepped forward. 
 His great fingers were taken firmly and warmly 
 in the long, slender ones. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Hart?" the girl 
 exclaimed with real interest. "I saw you 
 sitting down below and hoped you 'd come up 
 and shake hands with me." 
 
 At this, a narrow-shouldered youth with very 
 prominent teeth and a perpetual smile, who had 
 been occupying a chair immediately behind 
 Miss Hollingsworth, arose. The tall girl smiled 
 kindly at him, and then said in a low voice, 
 " Do take that chair," and Hart did so. Not, 
 for all his life could he think of anything to say. 
 He was angry with himself for being so upset. 
 No person, man or woman, had ever made him 
 feel so strangely ! and just then he noticed 
 that all of the young men wore white kid 
 gloves. What would Miss Hollingsworth think 
 of him to have dared to shake hands with her 
 without having them on. But apparently Miss
 
 A Change of Purpose. 205 
 
 Hollingsworth was thinking of something very 
 different, for she half turned in her chair, and 
 inquired with a smile and a direct glance from 
 her honest gray eyes, " Well, and how are things 
 going at college ? " 
 
 Hart started guiltily. "Pretty well, thank 
 you," he replied, " that is, not very well, I 
 should say." 
 
 " You know, it 's a pleasure," Miss Hollings- 
 worth continued, not noticing this last remark, 
 " to meet a man who has come to college in- 
 tending to be earnest. I am sure you have, 
 and that you will succeed." 
 
 "Thank you," said Hart, bowing his head. 
 
 " Most young men don't know what they go 
 there for, " the girl went on. " I 'm sure Ken- 
 more has not learned, and he 's been there three 
 years, almost. You are working very hard? " 
 
 Hart paused before replying, but he was 
 saved the trouble, for Miss Hollingsworth 
 asked another question. " Do you like this 
 opera?" she inquired. 
 
 " I never heard one before," Hart answered 
 frankly, " and really I could not tell you what 
 I think of it, I think so many things. You 
 know, it may seem very strange, but it 's real to
 
 206 A Princetonian. 
 
 me, and perfectly natural for them to sing in- 
 stead of talking." 
 
 " I wish the people would not do any 
 talking," Miss Hollingsworth said laughing. 
 " Those next to us are perfect chatter-boxes." 
 
 " You don 't mean to say they talk while 
 the music is going on ? " Hart asked in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Bless me, yes," was the answer. " That 's 
 when they do most of it." 
 
 Hart felt himself plucked by the sleeve at 
 this moment. Danforth was about to leave the 
 box. The lights suddenly dimmed. 
 
 " I must be saying good-bye," he murmured, 
 half afraid to extend his hand, but Miss 
 Hollingsworth put her white-gloved palm out 
 invitingly. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said. " You must work 
 very hard when you get back, you know." 
 
 It was almost a little note of warning or 
 advice kindly and well spoken but it caused 
 a great sensation to well up in Hart's bosom. 
 Danforth ran his arm through his and they left 
 the box together. 
 
 " You seem to have made quite an impression 
 with the ' daughter of the gods, divinely tall.' "
 
 A Change of Purpose. 207 
 
 Hart could have strangled him, but he held 
 his peace. 
 
 "How long does this thing last?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Oh, two or three hours; why? " 
 
 " I don't think I can stay it out," replied 
 Hart, stopping suddenly, and drawing away. 
 " I think I '11 take the owl train back to 
 Princeton." 
 
 " The devil you will," Danforth exclaimed, 
 " and leave me in the lurch. You 're a fine 
 one! You know you said you would " 
 
 " I know what I said," Hart answered an- 
 grily ; " but I lied, thank God. I *m going 
 back, that 's all." 
 
 He drew an old silver watch out of his trou- 
 sers pocket and looked at the time. 
 
 " Do as you like, of course," Danforth re- 
 plied, " but don't be a fool." 
 
 " I Ve been one long enough," was the 
 answer. 
 
 Danforth smiled and led the way down the 
 aisle. Hart found his hat and before the senior 
 could stop him, he had turned and hurried 
 away. He did not put on his overcoat until 
 he had reached the street. Half an hour
 
 208 A Princetonian. 
 
 later he was pacing the over-heated waiting- 
 room in the ferry-house. There was yet an 
 hour before the train that he had to take would 
 leave. A big fight was going on within him, 
 but slowly and firmly a determination was 
 being formed. Come what might, the best of 
 life, the highest aims were his, to gain the first, 
 the last was needed ; aim high he would !
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT. 
 
 THE day after Hart's trip to New York, he 
 overtook Heaphy on the campus. The latter 
 was walking straight ahead, very fast, with one 
 shoulder slightly higher than the other ; a big 
 book was under his arm, he had just come from 
 the library. 
 
 " Hold on, there ! " Hart shouted after 
 him. 
 
 Heaphy wheeled and stopped. 
 
 " Are you going on the Glee Club trip ? " he 
 asked, as Hart joined him and started walking 
 forward. 
 
 " No, too much work to do." 
 
 " Eh ? " exclaimed Heaphy in astonishment. 
 " I thought you said that pleasure and in- 
 terest " 
 
 " Oh, never mind what I said look here, you 
 know what the fellows call you, don't you? " 
 209
 
 2io A Princetonian. 
 
 " ' The young-man-with-a-purpose,' " respond- 
 ed Heaphy grimly. " I " 
 
 " That 's just it," Hart repeated ; " the ' young- 
 man-with-a-purpose,' I 'm another." 
 
 " Good," said Heaphy ; " I would n't be 
 ashamed of it. I 'm not." 
 
 He beamed on Hart as he spoke, and gave 
 him a tap on the shoulder. Then he turned 
 and entered the college book-store. Newton 
 slowed his gait, then he stood for a minute 
 with his hands deep in his pockets. All at 
 once he saw that someone was approaching 
 him. Looking up, he perceived that it was 
 Danforth. A tremendous splay-footed mastiff 
 dog accompanied him. The beast represented 
 nothing but expense and a blue ribbon, but 
 Danforth had taught him one trick that of 
 drinking beer. The dog was a drunkard ! 
 
 " Look here ! " Danforth cried as he came 
 nearer, " what did you get wheels in your head 
 about last night, and tear off like that ? I had 
 a great time ! I went to John's and struck it 
 rich ; made a cool five hundred on the wheel. 
 See what you missed ; you might have been on 
 velvet to-day, old chap." 
 
 The only reply Hart gave to this was a lifting 
 of his eyebrows.
 
 Commencement. 2 1 1 
 
 " Humph," he ejaculated ; " I 'm glad I came 
 back, nevertheless." 
 
 " Come up to my room to-night," Danforth 
 went on ; " we are going to have something 
 there, something that will set you up." 
 
 " Sorry I can't," Hart replied. " I Ve got 
 too much work to do." 
 
 " Oh, come now, don't get sour-ball." 
 
 " I 'm not," Hart responded quickly. 
 
 " Well, don't get mad about it." 
 
 " I 'm not mad, either ; don't think that for 
 a minute." 
 
 There was a smile on his face as he spoke 
 that was difficult for the senior to fathom. 
 
 " Well, so long," he said. 
 
 " So long," Hart answered, and they parted, 
 Danforth going over toward the street and 
 Hart making his way in the direction of Ed- 
 wards' Hall. 
 
 On the way down the walk he picked up 
 Terence Golatly. 
 
 " Oh, I say," Hart called, " come down to 
 my room and let 's pole our Greek." 
 
 " Bells bells ! " exclaimed Terence. " Is that 
 the next recitation ? " 
 
 But he came along nevertheless, and for the 
 first time in the term, Terence showed that
 
 212 A Princetonian. 
 
 afternoon that he knew a little something about 
 Greek. 
 
 The days sped by ; spring soon laid her fair 
 hands on everything. The end of the college 
 year was approaching, a year that had been 
 put to good advantage by some, misspent by 
 others, that had drifted over the heads of 
 many, and was gone before they realized 
 it. 
 
 It was a fine, warm day ; the grass was a 
 vivid green ; orioles whistled in the branches 
 of the elms, and robins tugged determinedly at 
 the fat worms that crept to the surface of 
 the sod. 
 
 For many nights the seniors had been sing- 
 ing, grouped about the two placid lions on the 
 steps of Old North. Examinations were on. 
 Pale, nervous youths, who had sat up over 
 coffee and syllabi over night, discussed their 
 chances of getting through. Others, with the 
 mark of the student, the " poler " in college 
 parlance, wore looks of self-contentment. 
 There was a deal of calling and shouting, not- 
 withstanding, and much ball-tossing and bat- 
 ting on the open campus. 
 
 Jimmie Johnson, the lemonade-man, leaned
 
 Commencement. 213 
 
 back against a sunny corner of the old chapel. 
 Many years had the college known old Jimmie, 
 from the time he came there a runaway-slave 
 lad long years before the students took sides on 
 the great question of the war. He had grown 
 old trundling his wheelbarrow about the walks, 
 and returned alumni, gray-headed and success- 
 ful in their outside life, greeted the old man as 
 if he were a friend besides, of course, being 
 a functionary of the University. Jimmie had 
 done well from a business point of view this 
 day, and his gnarled black face was wrinkled 
 into a contented smile. The old yellow dog 
 at his feet lay stretched in full contentment in 
 the sun's warmth. 
 
 Three figures were approaching along the 
 walk. They were talking earnestly together. 
 Buck Franklin, who was to lead his class in the 
 commencement exercises, wore rather a sad, 
 abstracted look on his strong, square-jawed 
 face, and Hart, who was walking at his right- 
 hand, had somehow caught the reflection of his 
 mood. Bliss was talking. 
 
 " I think it 's rather a bit harder on the 
 juniors than on the seniors themselves," he 
 said, " that is, to see one's friends leave, don't
 
 214 A Princetonian. 
 
 you know, cuts one up more than doing the 
 leaving." 
 
 " Well, I hate to say good-bye to you all," 
 said Buck, looking about him. " You have 
 no idea what a grip the love of a place, the 
 affection for associations, takes hold on a man. 
 There are some things you seldom value 
 properly until you are about to lose them." 
 
 " You can always come back, you know," 
 said Ned. 
 
 " I should hate to think I could n't, or that I 
 did not wish to," Franklin responded. " But it 
 won't be the same. Now, old Pop here has 
 three years more of it." 
 
 Hart looked up. " I don't know about 
 that," he said, quietly. " Honestly I hope so, 
 but " 
 
 " Oh, pshaw," put in Ned, " that 's all non- 
 sense. You spoke about leaving way back 
 last fall, but you did n't." 
 
 " That 's true," repeated Hart, " I did n't." 
 
 Then he relapsed into silence. The three 
 had stopped before Jimmie Johnson's wheel- 
 barrow. 
 
 " Jimmie," cried Ned, turning suddenly, 
 " what 's the best class in college ? "
 
 Commencement. 2 1 5 
 
 " I-I-I-I d-d-d-o-o-n't know, seh. A-a-a-11 
 g-o-ood, seh ; h-h-h-ta-te to see 'm go-go-go-, 
 seh." 
 
 Jimmie's stutter had no duplicate in the 
 world, and he was a diplomat. His reply had 
 the desired result. Franklin felt compelled to 
 treat the rest to the weak concoction that 
 Jimmie insisted was " 1-1-1-lemonade, seh." 
 
 A brass-band was playing some popular airs 
 out on the front campus, and many young men 
 dressed in the garb of the graduating class 
 (that had adopted the cap and gown as a mark 
 of seniority) were walking to and fro, accom- 
 panied by proud mothers or fathers, little 
 brothers, or sisters (or some other fellows' 
 sisters), and Ned, spying a girl he knew, ran 
 off and left Hart and Franklin standing 
 alone. 
 
 "You have not any people down here to see 
 you graduate, have you ? " asked the former. 
 
 " No," was the answer. " Father wrote he 
 could n't leave the farm." 
 
 " Are you going back there ? " 
 
 " Not much. Oh ! I forgot to tell you," Buck 
 answered, " I Ve had a bit of good luck. Got 
 a chance to teach this summer, and a good
 
 216 A Princetonian. 
 
 offer of a position at Pottstown Academy in 
 the fall. What are you going to do ? " 
 
 Hart chivied a bit of stone around with the 
 toe of his boot. 
 
 " Look here, Buck," he said, " I 'm going to 
 tell you something, I don't know what I 'm 
 going to do. I '11 have to do something, and, 
 tell the truth, I 'm in a pretty bad hole. 
 There 's no use of my going West again and 
 I don't want to anyhow. I 've been trying 
 to look for some work here. Now, I don't 
 suppose I could get a job on your father's 
 farm, could I ? " 
 
 " It 's a little bit of a place and my brother 
 is up there with him," Franklin answered. 
 " Really I 'm sorry. But hold on, I know of a 
 job for you ! " 
 
 " What is it ? " Hart asked eagerly. 
 
 "You remember, I told you that last sum- 
 mer I worked on a surveying party up in New 
 York state ; well, I have a chance to go on there 
 again. But of course I won't. Do you know 
 anything about the business?" 
 
 " I carried the rod for our county surveyor 
 out in Nebraska," Hart answered, " and I know 
 something about levelling."
 
 Commencement. 2 1 7 
 
 "Just the man," Franklin replied. "You '11 
 fill the bill. I '11 tell you more about it later. 
 Hello, the exercises will begin pretty soon ; I 
 think I 'd better run and get my mantle on my 
 shoulders." 
 
 Franklin was class-orator at the coming ex- 
 ercises, and as the campus and the amphi- 
 theatre around the old piece of ordnance was 
 filling up with the chattering and perspiring 
 crowd, there were a few minutes to spare. 
 
 Few of the freshman class were still remaining 
 at Princeton. Returned alumni with their class 
 numerals on badges fluttering from the lapels 
 of their coat, attired again in the easy habili- 
 ments of undergraduates, wandered about, 
 seeming to have caught all the old spirit of 
 the college life. But the occasion suggested 
 many thoughts to Hart. To continue here 
 until his own four years were up, to leave with 
 what honors he could gain, with the stamp of 
 the college man upon him, and his alma mater's 
 approval and godspeed in the shape of a roll of 
 parchment all these ambitions had become 
 part of his firm determination. 
 
 Danforth and he had seen nothing of one 
 another since the day in the early spring when
 
 2 1 8 A Princetonian. 
 
 they had parted at the corner of the quad- 
 rangle. He had recognized the senior's abso- 
 lute selfishness, and while he yet acknowledged 
 the fascination of his personality, he had pur- 
 posely avoided him, for his companionship had 
 profited him nothing. Danforth had not staid 
 in Princeton after the awarding of the diplomas, 
 and there were few of his classmates who missed 
 his presence. His pronounced self-worship had 
 precluded his gaining anything worth the name 
 of friendship, and besides he did not wish to 
 stand the arraignment before the censor's plat- 
 form. Without the least bitterness, devoid of 
 regret or sorrow, he had packed up his belong- 
 ings, and left by the morning train with only 
 Hiram his servant, and Sharkey Sprague to see 
 him off. Hart had passed him on his way to 
 the station, but Danforth had not even given 
 him a nod. 
 
 Heaphy had left also some days before, and 
 Hart felt very lonely, despite his elation at 
 Franklin's encouraging promise. He seated 
 himself on one of the benches under the elms, 
 and thought over the college year just ended. 
 Much had happened, and much had he learned. 
 The remembrance of the kindly glance of the
 
 Commencement. 2 1 9 
 
 gray eyes that had haunted him, the friendly 
 grasp of the hand, and the words that had 
 aroused the best part of him, all this he called 
 back to his mind. Although she did not know 
 it, she had been the great impulse and influence 
 of his life, and his ambition soared high enough 
 for him to think that some day, at least, happen 
 what might, he would tell her so. It could 
 surely do no harm to tell her ! 
 
 If he had worn her colors openly on his arm, 
 he could not have felt a greater responsibility 
 even without the idea of striving for reward.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A SET BACK. 
 
 IT was the last day of the month of August. 
 One of those days whose position in the calen- 
 dar might be hard to guess from mere appear- 
 ances. The air had all the freshness and balm 
 of June, yet the sky was crossed by fleets of 
 fast-sailing little clouds, and the occasional 
 breezes that came earthward had that peculiar 
 bracing coolness that suggests the end of sum- 
 mer. It had rained the night before, and the 
 winding road that stretched from the little vil- 
 lage of Hilltop down to the valley of the 
 Coponac River, was washed into miniature 
 caftons and arroyos that trended on each side 
 towards the tall grass that fringed the driveway. 
 
 There was a sound of wheels breaking the 
 stillness, and over the crest of the hill came a 
 light buck-board drawn by two stocky little 
 ponies driven by a tall girl who guided them
 
 A Set Back. 221 
 
 carefully over the rough places, chatting to 
 them familiarly as she listened over her shoulder 
 to the talk of a young man dressed in knicker- 
 bockers, who sat on the rumble seat. A shorter 
 girl who sat beside the one who was driving, 
 suddenly broke into a laugh, occasioned by 
 something the young man had been saying. 
 
 The laugh was checked suddenly, for the 
 ponies shied without warning sharply to the left 
 just as the bushes were parted, and a figure 
 stepped out into the road almost at their heads. 
 It was a young man in a blue flannel shirt with 
 his trousers tucked into the tops of his boots. 
 A small axe was thrust in the leather belt about 
 his waist ; over his shoulder he carried a long 
 staff divided into little numbered spaces with 
 a movable target at one end. The young man 
 drew back to let the buck-board pass him, 
 but the occupant of the rumble had jumped 
 to his feet holding on to the back of the seat 
 in front of him. 
 
 " Hello, by jingo ! if it is n't Pop Hart," he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 The ponies were suddenly halted, and the 
 girl who was driving leaned from the seat as 
 she extended her hand toward the young man,
 
 222 A Princetonian. 
 
 who had removed his broad-brimmed hat and 
 stood bare-headed in the sunshine. 
 
 " Well ! How do you do, Mr. Hart. This is 
 a surprise," she said. 
 
 Her companion nodded and smiled also. 
 " Where did you come from ? " she added to 
 the tall girl's exclamation. 
 
 Newton had recovered from his astonishment, 
 and had taken the little gloved hand in his own. 
 
 " I am on the survey of the new road they 're 
 going to run through here. Been working on 
 it all summer," he said. 
 
 " You 're coming back to play football," 
 cried Ned Bliss, thumping him on the back as 
 he jumped to'the ground. 
 
 " Going to try to," was the rejoinder, as the 
 two stood there shaking hands. 
 
 " Bully for you, old chap ; I knew you 
 would n't go back on us. How long are you 
 going to be in this neighborhood ? " 
 
 " Two or three days, may be." 
 
 " Then you must come to see us, Mr. Hart," 
 said Miss Hollingsworth. " We live about a 
 mile beyond the village. Any one will tell you 
 where. Now, don't forget us, we 're home after 
 church."
 
 A Set Back. 223 
 
 The ponies were getting restive, and at this 
 moment a shout came from the meadow on the 
 other side of the road. 
 
 " Hi, there, hoist up ! " some one called. 
 
 " That 's my level-man," Hart said. " I sup- 
 pose he does not know what 's become of me." 
 
 " Well, good-bye, old chap, see you in two 
 weeks," said Ned as he jumped into the little 
 spring-seat. The ponies started forward, both 
 the girls smiling good-byes, and Ned waving 
 his hand until they had disappeared around a 
 bend in the road. Hart watched them come 
 into sight again farther down. Then he 
 took a little peg from a canvas bag that he 
 carried over his shoulder, drove it into the 
 ground with the axe, set the end of the rod 
 upon it, and began to obey the orders of an 
 invisible person at some distance who shouted : 
 
 " Down a little ; up a little; down a hair, 
 O.K." 
 
 As he had mechanically obeyed these in- 
 structions, there was a very thoughtful look 
 upon the rod-man's face, and after he had given 
 the reading of the vernier, and written it down 
 in a little note-book, he waited for the owner 
 of the voice to come up. Soon he appeared
 
 224 A Princetonian. 
 
 pushing through the bushes with his instru- 
 ment over his shoulder. 
 
 "Was n't you talking to some people just 
 now?" the level-man asked, a keen-eyed, 
 grizzled individual who puffed at a cheap cigar 
 thrust well into his cheek. " Them people in 
 the two-horse rig ? " he questioned. " Friends 
 of yours? " 
 
 "Yes, I know them." 
 
 " Kind of swells, ain't they ? " 
 
 " I don't know," Hart rejoined. "That read- 
 ing was eight nought six." 
 
 To tell the truth he did not care very much 
 for his immediate superior's society, yet there 
 was nothing to which he could object to in the 
 level-man's character except a disregard for the 
 rules of grammar and an innate vulgarity for 
 which he was not entirely responsible. 
 
 This was the job of which Franklin had 
 spoken at commencement, and since June Hart 
 had been working on the preliminary survey of 
 this branch road. As his expenses were paid, 
 he had managed to save up enough money he 
 hoped to tide him through the next college 
 term with the aid of close economy. 
 
 The members of the surveying party were
 
 A Set Back. 225 
 
 encamped at a small farm-house about two 
 miles from Hilltop, down in the valley within a 
 stone's throw of the willow-bordered banks of 
 the river. The next day after the meeting on 
 the roadside was Sunday, a day that Hart usu- 
 ally spent reading in the shade or following the 
 occupation of the gentle Izaak Walton, tramping 
 with rod in hand, along one of the numerous 
 trout streams that abounded in the country- 
 side through which the preliminary survey had 
 been running. This morning he changed the 
 usual manner of spending the day of rest. He 
 brushed his clothes carefully, put on a white 
 shirt, and started up the hill toward the 
 village. 
 
 The church bells were ringing as he reached 
 the summit, and at Hilltop they rang after a 
 fashion of their own. The buildings of worship 
 of the various denominations all stood about a 
 central square, or park, in the middle of which 
 rose a soldiers' monument of granite, topped 
 by the traditional caped figure leaning on a 
 musket. Not far away a lofty flagstaff rose 
 above the branches of the trees. 
 
 The Congregational church on the north side 
 of the square, rang first ; its stroke was leisurely
 
 226 A Princetonian. 
 
 answered by the bell in the tower of the hand- 
 some Episcopalian church on the east ; then 
 the Baptist church struck in on time, if not 
 exactly on the proper chord. Again the tolling 
 started at the north, and swept around the 
 square. It was much better than if they had 
 all ding-donged it at once, like rivals, each call- 
 ing attention to themselves. The decorous- 
 ness of the proceeding, and the rather musical 
 effect, accorded better with the spirit of the day 
 and the idea of Christian harmony. 
 
 Hart had never been a church-going indi- 
 vidual ; his ideas upon religion might be de- 
 scribed as being rather chaotic. The sermons 
 in the chapel at Princeton he had classed as 
 belonging to one of two kinds, the dull or the 
 interesting, as the case might be. He had no 
 religious opinions he admitted, but had the re- 
 spect for the real evidences of them in others 
 that every just-minded, honest-hearted man pos- 
 sesses. It had hurt him, although he knew not 
 why, to hear Danforth whose knowledge of the 
 Bible itself, was by no means small, declare 
 that " religion was a crutch for lame minds." 
 He had frankly declined to allow this topic to 
 enter into their discussion by stating that as he
 
 A Set Back. 227 
 
 knew nothing about it, there was no use saying 
 anything. 
 
 In some way the peacefulness of the scene, 
 the sounds of the bells, the whole tone of the 
 day, struck him forcibly, and a temptation 
 seized him to enter the nearest church, which 
 was the small Gothic building that looked more 
 ornate and yet more aged than the trim, white 
 barn-like structures on either hand. 
 
 Crossing the corner of the square he passed 
 through the iron gates, and was standing there 
 irresolutely in the vestibule when some one 
 touched him on the elbow. 
 
 " Hallo, old chap," said a voice in a church 
 whisper, "come in with us! If there isn't 
 room in our pew there always is in the one 
 ahead." 
 
 It was Ned Bliss and with him were all of 
 the Bliss family ; little Mrs. Bliss smiled be- 
 nignly, and said, " How do you do, Mr. Hart," 
 in a very concise whisper." Mr. Bliss mumbled 
 something beneath his breath as he shook 
 hands, while the young lady nodded in a very 
 friendly fashion. 
 
 The church was crowded and as the party 
 filed into the little pew, it was seen that it
 
 228 A Princetonian. 
 
 already had two occupants ; there was scarcely 
 room for either Ned or Hart. This the former 
 saw at a glance, and taking his friend by the 
 arm, he said, " Room in the next pew," pushed 
 him forward, and followed after him. 
 
 As Newton sat down some one spoke at his 
 side. " I 'm very glad to see you," said a low 
 voice." He repressed a very strong inclination 
 to spring to his feet. The words sent the 
 blood hot to his temples. Turning quickly he 
 saw that Madge Hollingsworth was beside him 
 smiling a welcome. 
 
 As the organ stopped playing the proces- 
 sional march a stir and fluttering of fans was 
 plainly audible, but it seemed to Newton, as 
 he arose, that above everything he could hear 
 the beating of his heart. His fingers fairly 
 trembled as he took a light hold of the corner 
 of the prayer-book that Miss Hollingsworth 
 extended. Her name was printed in gold 
 letters on the cover ; he could not take his 
 eyes off it and read it over again and again. 
 
 Miss Hollingsworth sang the air of the 
 hymns in a clear soprano, and Hart sang the 
 base. A joyous exultation came over him as 
 he heard his voice blend with hers. When it
 
 A Set Back. 229 
 
 came to reading from the prayer-book, she 
 pointed out the responses with the tip of her 
 gloved finger, and they read them together. 
 All through the sermon, not one word of which 
 Hart heard, by the way, he could feel the little 
 breeze from her fan. Only once did he steal 
 a glance at her, only once because he felt that 
 if he had done it a second time, and had been 
 seen, any one could have read the tumult that 
 was stirring in his breast. He could scarcely 
 persuade himself at times that it was really 
 she sitting there beside him. He hoped that 
 the service would be prolonged indefinitely, 
 for he knew that it would be only with an effort 
 that he could appear cool and politely indif- 
 ferent in the way he knew he should be. He 
 made up his mind, however, to inform her that 
 it was his intention when he started for Hilltop 
 that morning to call on her. 
 
 At last the service came to an end. The 
 white surpliced young minister glided neatly 
 out of the chancel, the organist began a rather 
 loud march as if he were rejoicing that it was 
 all over and that he could go home to his noon- 
 day meal. People nodded to one another, and 
 there was the rustle of rising everywhere.
 
 230 A Princetonian. 
 
 Miss Holligsworth turned and spoke to him. 
 
 " It was quite a surprise to see you this 
 morning," she said, glancing up at him. 
 
 " It was very fortunate for me," he replied, 
 and at this moment Ned pulled him by the 
 coat ; Newton turned to him, and Miss Hol- 
 lingsworth went out the other end of the pew 
 into the side aisle which was not so crowded. 
 Hart thought at first of following her but Ned 
 was talking to him. 
 
 " I 'm sorry, old man, that I can't ask you to 
 luncheon to-day with us ; we live at the hotel 
 but we are all going to stop at my uncle's here 
 nearer the village. Can't you come up to- 
 morrow and take pot-luck with us ? " 
 
 They were slowly going down the aisle. 
 Hart did not remember what he replied to 
 Ned's invitation, his mind was so busy think- 
 ing how he could see Madge again. But 
 Bliss's next words rang well with his thoughts. 
 
 "Why don't you walk out to the Hollings- 
 worth's and call ? You 're sure to find them 
 all in just now. It isn't more than ten min- 
 utes' jog. Jove ! did n't she look stunning. 
 The finest girl I know, by all long odds." 
 
 Hart looked down at his companion. They
 
 A Set Back. 231 
 
 had just emerged into the sunlight, and why 
 he asked the question he did, he could not 
 have told to save him. " You 're in love with 
 her, then ? " he asked, with a strange cold feel- 
 ing coming over him, and his eyes searching 
 Ned's features eagerly. 
 
 The latter shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Loved her all my life," he answered, " but 
 that does n't count. She 's going to be a sister 
 to me, don't you know. Same old story. There 
 she is now, driving off with Ray Danforth ; 
 he 's trying to make all the running in that 
 quarter." 
 
 The smirk on Ned's face would have shown 
 that he thought Danforth's chances were not of 
 the best, but Hart looked around quickly just 
 in time to see Miss Hollingsworth settle herself 
 in the seat of a trim Tilbury beside Raymond 
 Danforth, who was gathering the reins in hand 
 clucking to a handsome little black that evi- 
 dently did not appreciate the fact that Sunday 
 was the day on which to abstain from dancing. 
 
 " I dare say he is trying to explain why he 
 was n't in church," said Ned, laughing. " He 
 can explain most anything. By the way, did 
 you notice he 's in black. His uncle died a few
 
 232 A Princetonian. 
 
 months ago and left him ' oodles.' He 's going 
 to buy a place up here." 
 
 The Bliss party were piling into a large pri- 
 vate 'bus, and Ned suddenly perceiving that 
 they were waiting for him, pointed up the road. 
 
 " The third place on the right," he said. 
 They 're going straight home ; chase along, old 
 chap. Pardon my clearing out." 
 
 It was Bliss's intention to have Hart arrive 
 at the Hollingworth's a short time before 
 luncheon. He knew that Madge would insist 
 upon his staying, and that it would in a measure 
 make up for his own inability to be hospitable. 
 Hart bowed to the party in the 'bus as it drove 
 away, and started walking up the road. 
 
 The Congregational church was just " letting 
 out " ; the farmers and villagers were backing 
 their more plebeian vehicles from the long shed 
 that stretched behind it. There was a screech- 
 ing of cramped wheels and much " whoaing " 
 and neighing. 
 
 After a walk of about ten minutes Hart came 
 to a large gate on the right-hand side of the 
 roadway. A neat little lodge stood on one side, 
 and a huge oak tree spread its branches above 
 the entrance. The winding drive led up to the
 
 A Set Back. 233 
 
 top of a hill where a large stone house com- 
 manded the view over the surrounding country. 
 He had seen the big chimneys for some time 
 above the tree-tops. 
 
 The day was very warm ; not a breeze stirred 
 the leaves, and save for the crunching of the 
 gravel under his feet, and the chirping of the 
 crickets in the grass, there was not a sound. It 
 required some courage for him to approach the 
 great porte-cochere ; he felt as if every one of 
 the big windows was suspiciously regarding his 
 approach. 
 
 He did not know that he really had been 
 seen ; but such was the fact two young men 
 were standing at one of the windows of a hand- 
 some wainscoted room, whose principal furni- 
 ture consisted of a great billiard-table and some 
 carved high-backed chairs stag's heads and 
 sporting prints were on the walls. 
 
 " Who the dickens is it ? " asked one of the 
 young men, knocking the ashes off of his cigar- 
 ette. Then, before his companion could reply, 
 he added : " By jove, it 's Pop Hart, from 
 Princeton. Where the devil did he come 
 from?" 
 
 " It 's evident that he has come to make a
 
 234 A Princetonian. 
 
 call ; he 's dressed in his best suit of clothes," 
 was the answer. " You did n't ask him, did 
 you, Ken ? " 
 
 " No ; he 's probably come to see Madge. 
 She thinks he 's hot stuff. You know, I thought 
 you and he were very thick." 
 
 " Oh, I had some fun drawing him out," 
 Danforth responded, " and found he was an 
 earnest ass, that 's all. Got to bore me pretty 
 much. I suppose she will see him." 
 
 Just then the sound of some one playing the 
 piano came from one of the rooms not far 
 away. 
 
 " I '11 bet she don't," Kenmore answered, 
 stepping to the door. " I '11 fix it with Hawk- 
 ins." 
 
 The following conversation in a low voice 
 came from the hallway : 
 
 " Hawkins, if that young man who is coming 
 up asks for me, tell him I 'm out. If he asks 
 for Miss Madge, tell him she 's out. If he asks 
 for anybody, tell him they 're all out." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 There came a ring at the bell. " Fixed that," 
 said Hollingsworth, coming back to the billiard- 
 room.
 
 A Set Back. 235 
 
 Somehow all this seemed to give Danforth 
 much pleasure. 
 
 Two minutes later Hart was crunching his 
 way down the gravel drive towards the gates. 
 Angry and bitter feelings rankled within him. 
 The conduct of the pompous Hawkins in de- 
 livering his young master's orders, and his su- 
 percilious air, had caused such a momentary 
 rage in Hart's bosom that he scarcely restrained 
 his strong desire to pitch the butler head first 
 off the stone doorstep into the flower beds. It 
 was perhaps this anger that had prevented him 
 from leaving his name, or may be, insisting that 
 Miss Hollingsworth was at home, for he could 
 plainly hear her singing at the piano. 
 
 He walked hurriedly through the village and 
 down the hill toward the country boarding- 
 house. But he did not stop there ; taking a 
 footpath, he strode across the meadow, and 
 reaching the river-bank, flung himself down 
 full length in the shade of the willows.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN HARNESS. 
 
 CHAOS, or at least uncertainty, might well be 
 termed the keynote of the sophomore year. 
 Broken loose from the trammels of a freshman 
 existence, there is more of a tendency to kick 
 over the traces, to exult in new found liberties, 
 and to lean toward an over indulgence in the 
 wearing of college colors, a privilege denied the 
 freshman, by the way, except when at some 
 distant athletic contest, in which his alma mater 
 is to be represented. As usual the fall term 
 passed by quickly ; the football battles had 
 been won or lost. Harvard had been humbled, 
 but the standard of victory fluttered at New 
 Haven. Yale had won. Not easily, but she 
 had won Yale-fashion, by playing hard, fast 
 football ; and despite the efforts of the striped- 
 legged, long-haired men from New Jersey, and 
 the great individual game that had been played 
 236
 
 In Harness. 237 
 
 by a few of them, Hart conspicuous among 
 these last, the battle had been lost. 
 
 Newton's career since his return had been 
 signalized by hard work in every direction. 
 He was a first-group man now, and very soon 
 it was rumored that Heaphy and himself were 
 neck-and-neck in the race for academic honors. 
 Neither of them had laid claim to the extreme 
 privileges of his second year. Hart could find 
 no sympathy for those who had plunged them- 
 selves into hot water through an inordinate 
 desire to pay unwelcome visits to freshmen's 
 rooms. Conscientiously and honestly he had 
 stuck to his work, and the fruits had been worth 
 the gathering. 
 
 This does not mean that he had not enjoyed 
 himself. The merry gatherings at Dohm's had 
 known him very often. His name was cut with 
 the others on the top of the long stained table 
 and his voice had joined or led the choruses 
 that had made the bare rooms ring. " Adam " 
 looked at him with approval, for mine host had 
 found that Hart's intervention in moments of 
 extreme uproariousness was better than all his 
 oft-repeated pleading of, " Chentleman, chen- 
 tlemen, please keep kviet, or I shol loose my 
 license."
 
 238 A Princetonian. 
 
 Winter had passed so quickly that it had 
 changed from snow to rain, from rain to sun- 
 shine, and April had come with all the 
 green things starting, long before one had 
 grown accustomed to the date of the new 
 year. 
 
 It was Easter-tide, and a group of sophomores 
 on one fine warm day strolled across the campus 
 arm in arm. Hart was leading and Terence 
 Golatly was following close behind. In fact it 
 would have been quite impossible for Terence 
 to have followed any closer for he was walking 
 lock-step with his arms clasped about Hart's 
 shoulders. 
 
 Sophomores have a way of speaking of the 
 freshman year as if it were in the dim past, and 
 the doings thereof were to be referred to as 
 happenings of their early youth. 
 
 " Will you ever forget," said Terence, who 
 was forcing the season most decidely by wear- 
 ing a broad-brimmed farmer's hat of straw 
 with a great orange-and-black ribbon, " will 
 you ever forget the time you carried me on 
 your shoulders?" 
 
 " He has n't played a real game of horse 
 since," put in Betts.
 
 In Harness. 239 
 
 " Oh, he 's moving along," said Golatly, 
 prodding Hart in the back with his knee. 
 
 The reply to this was a sudden twisting, and 
 before he knew it, Terence was slung across his 
 friend's shoulders like a bag of meal. The slow 
 procession across the campus went on as if 
 nothing had occurred except that Betts scratched 
 a match on the sole of Golatly's boot. Terence 
 was not placed on his feet again until the little 
 party had stepped aside and touched their hats 
 as one of the professors passed them. At the 
 corner of Reunion the gathering broke up, going 
 in different directions. It was late in the day ; 
 already some lights were burning and the air 
 was growing cooler. Hart stopped, as was his 
 habit, to chat for a minute with old Johnnie 
 Degnan, the college policeman. Golatly had 
 always declared that Johnnie's get-up had been 
 copied from that of the comic copper in a well 
 known Bowery farce-comedy. Golatly also 
 declared that he always behaved well when 
 Johnnie was around for fear of hurting his 
 feelings. 
 
 " Misther Bliss was looking for you, sir," 
 said the policeman in a timid high-pitched 
 voice, with the softest brogue in all the world.
 
 240 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Sure, he was shouting all about for you, 
 sir." 
 
 As if for answer a hail from the direction of 
 Witherspoon sounded. 
 
 " Hist ! that 's him," said Johnnie. 
 
 Hart raised his voice. 
 
 " Halloo, Ned Bliss," he launched out into 
 the air. 
 
 In a minute Ned came running up. 
 
 " Where on earth have you been keeping 
 yourself?" he shouted. "I've searched the 
 highway and byways. Want you to dine with 
 me to-night. Mother and the girls are up here, 
 and afterwards some of the Glee Club are com- 
 ing around to sing." 
 
 " I Ve got to do some tutoring," Hart an- 
 swered. He had been very successful in help- 
 ing freshmen whose young ideas had not been 
 taught to shoot aright, and the small pay he 
 derived from it, amply rewarded him. 
 
 " Well, you Ve got plenty of time," Bliss 
 responded, " we don't dine until seven. Come 
 over sure. Miss Hollingsworth 's here. She 
 said she hoped she 'd see you." 
 
 " Did she really ? " Hart inquired, giving a 
 start.
 
 In Harness. 241 
 
 " It was very kind of her, of course," Ned 
 answered, " but she really did ; so, we '11 expect 
 you." 
 
 " Thanks, I '11 come." 
 
 At the mere mention of her name, he had 
 felt that oft-remembered leaping of his heart. 
 Was it going to be thus always ? Was he never 
 going to forget the sound of her voice or the 
 look of the gray eyes ? He walked quickly 
 away, and was rather absent-minded during the 
 hour of tutoring that followed. 
 
 "You're to sit beside Miss H. to-night, 
 old chap," said Ned to Hart as they met in 
 the office of Princeton's well known hostelry. 
 " Come in and look at the table ; fixed it myself. 
 No, by jingo, we have n't got time. Here they 
 come now." 
 
 Hart stepped out to the foot of the stairway 
 just as Mrs. Bliss and the little party descended. 
 Although he grasped Mrs. Bliss's hand first he 
 could see nothing but the tall, graceful figure 
 that stood behind her. In another moment the 
 voice he knew so well in his dreams was speak- 
 ing to him. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hart," Madge Hollingsworth said, 
 
 16
 
 242 A Princetonian. 
 
 resting her hand in his for an instant. " I 
 have a bone to pick with you. Why did n't 
 you call to see me when you were at Hilltop ? " 
 
 Before he could reply Miss Bliss spoke 
 up. 
 
 " Now, please, see me here, Mr. Hart," she 
 said ; " you need not to overlook me because I 
 am so very small." 
 
 He muttered a confused explanation, and 
 they went into the dining-room. As they sat 
 down, he turned to the tall girl on his right. 
 
 " You asked me a moment since why I did 
 not call when at Hilltop." His voice was al- 
 most trembling with earnestness. " I did call, 
 and they told me you were not in." 
 
 " Why, I staid in all the afternoon hoping to 
 see you," Miss Hollingsworth responded wrink- 
 ling her brow. Then she laughed. " You 
 ought to feel flattered at that." 
 
 " I wish I had known it," Hart responded 
 with such intensity that he felt compelled to go 
 on in a quieter tone. " I heard you singing, at 
 the piano, and knew you were at home." 
 
 " Why, this is almost a tragedy," Madge an- 
 swered. 
 
 If she had known of Hart's wild desire to
 
 In Harness. 243 
 
 throw the liveried Hawkins into the flower beds 
 she might have spoken with more truth. 
 
 "Pardon me don't you like oysters?" 
 Madge asked, glancing down at Hart's plate. 
 
 " Honestly, I was n't thinking about them," 
 was his response. 
 
 And at this minute Mrs. Bliss addressed a 
 question to him from the head of the table. 
 
 " I hear you are going on the Glee Club trip, 
 Mr. Hart," she said. " I hope your being older 
 will keep the younger ones in order." 
 
 "Yes, just keep an eye on Kenmore ; I am 
 sure he needs it. He 's going again as a what 
 is it? oh, yes heeler; so he tells me. I 
 should think these Glee Club trips were no end 
 of a spree." 
 
 " Often the case," said Ned, laughing. " We 
 have just engaged Pop to come along to add 
 dignity to the basses." 
 
 " We have a piano up in our room," put in 
 Miss Bliss, " and Mr. Hart will have to sing for 
 us after dinner. Are the rest of those boys 
 coming?" 
 
 " At half-past eight, sharp," Ned replied, " and 
 Briggs Talcott is going to bring his guitar. He 
 qan play like a chavo whatever that is."
 
 244 A Princetonian. 
 
 During the dinner Hart forgot many times 
 that there were other persons present besides 
 himself and Miss Hollingsworth ; he had to 
 "haul himself up on more than one occasion to 
 the knowledge of this fact, and it was difficult 
 for him to keep himself from turning his back 
 on his left-hand neighbor. He did not know 
 it but he talked well, and occasionally the girl 
 would look at him with that honest, unfeigned 
 interest with which a woman looks at a man 
 who arouses her mind or her thoughts, even if 
 he has not touched her heart. She did not ap- 
 pear to recognize his earnest attention to her, 
 nor did she know that a certain admiration 
 that she could not help but feeling almost 
 expressed itself in her glance. 
 
 There was no purpose in Hart's mind to lead 
 to this ; to talk to her, to be near her, gave him 
 such pleasure, such delight that he forgot him- 
 self more than once, as he had forgotten the 
 presence of the others. 
 
 But it was not very long before the dinner 
 was over and the party adjourned to the draw- 
 ing-room. In the course of a few minutes Ken- 
 more Hollingsworth, Talcott, and four of the 
 Glee Club men came in, and showed by their
 
 In Harness. 245 
 
 actions very plainly that they would just as lief 
 sing as not perhaps rather. After a few glees 
 Hart was asked for a solo, and although he would 
 rather not have complied, if he could have got- 
 ten out of it gracefully, he stood up and Briggs 
 Talcott seated himself at the piano. 
 
 Briggs could play anything with strings, from 
 a corn-stalk fiddle to a double-stringed theorb ; 
 and he played the piano better, perhaps, than 
 any man in college, but he seldom or never 
 played a piece twice the same way. It all de- 
 pended upon his mood. But so quick was his 
 ear that he could accompany a song off-hand, 
 quite as accurately, and often with a better 
 swing to it than if he had notes set before 
 him. Hart had never taken a music lesson in 
 his life, but he sang naturally and unaffectedly 
 without performing any bad tricks. 
 
 " Sing, ' Drink to Me,' " said Briggs, with one 
 hand chasing lightly over the upper keys. 
 
 It is a very old-fashioned song, " Drink to 
 me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with 
 mine," but a very fine old song. Hart began. 
 He had never sung so well before, but Briggs 
 was in the mood, and it may have been con- 
 tagious. All at once Hart looked at Miss
 
 246 A Princetonian. 
 
 Hollingsworth. She was sitting in the corner 
 of the sofa with her chin supported in the palm 
 of her hand ; her eyes had a far-away expres- 
 sion in them, but suddenly she lifted her head 
 and her glance met his own. It was just as 
 he finished. Again he felt that strange sensa- 
 tion, a sensation of there being only two peo- 
 ple in the room he and she. He walked 
 directly over to her. She had no compliment 
 for him. 
 
 " I love that old song," she said, making room 
 for him to sit down beside her, but Miss Bliss 
 came up at this instant urging that he sing an 
 encore. He was forced to comply. 
 
 " I hope you '11 have a fine time on the Glee 
 Club trip, and look out for Kenmore," said 
 Miss Hollingsworth as the singing party stood 
 up to bid their hostess good night. 
 
 " Do you really mean it ? " Hart asked. 
 
 " Oh, I was only joking of course," was the 
 answer. " But it would be a good thing if you 
 could get some influence over him. He makes 
 lots of mistakes." 
 
 " I don't know that I am the one to cor- 
 rect him, Miss Hollingsworth," Newton said
 
 In Harness. 247 
 
 quickly. " I can't point to my own career as a 
 model." 
 
 He was so earnest that Miss Hollingsworth 
 answered earnestly also, although her words 
 might have gone well with a smile. 
 
 " I cannot imagine that you have been very 
 wicked." 
 
 "A most kind and flattering judgment," 
 Hart returned. 
 
 " Don't incriminate yourself," Madge laughed. 
 " And just keep an eye on Kenmore. Encourage 
 him to go to bed at night. There 's chance for 
 an example." 
 
 Bliss ran his arm through Hart's as he crossed 
 the street. 
 
 " Would n't it be a shame if she married Ray- 
 mond Danforth, after all," he said. " People 
 are talking about it." 
 
 Hart said nothing, but Bliss felt the muscles 
 of his arm stiffen suddenly. 
 
 It was two weeks later, the Glee Club, in a 
 body were leaving the Glee Club car that had 
 the same conspicuous banner on it. Newton 
 thought of the time that he had attended a 
 concert in Omaha but three years before.
 
 248 A Princetonian. 
 
 He was walking beside Kenmore Rollings- 
 worth. The advances that he had made to the 
 latter had not been taken in bad part, and much 
 to his astonishment Hart found that he had 
 been somewhat mistaken in his estimate of Ken- 
 more's character. The faults he had were those 
 that are more easily pardoned on account of 
 youth, and Kenmore was much younger than 
 he looked : a spoilt boy who had lacked nothing 
 that he desired. But his having entered college 
 at so early an age, and having managed to stay 
 there with a minimum of work, might be taken 
 as evidence of the fact that his brains were 
 above the ordinary, and this was true ; he was 
 naturally bright and possessed many qualities 
 that were attractive. Despite the irregular life 
 he led and the effect it must have had upon 
 him, his complexion was pink-white like a girl's, 
 and although he was not so large as Hart, he 
 was strong and active. He could have made 
 the eleven in any of his college years, but he 
 did not choose to train. Danforth's influence 
 upon him had not been for the best, but as that 
 complex individual had now left college, Ken- 
 more had changed more than a little. Hart 
 had overcome that uncomfortable feeling that
 
 In Harness. 249 
 
 he used to have in Hollingsworth's presence, 
 and this in a measure had brought them more 
 readily together. 
 
 The Glee Club trip was half over. They 
 were to sing at Atlanta the next evening, then 
 at Savannah from where they returned to the 
 North. The car just now rested on the side 
 track at Columbia, and it was up that city's 
 dusty streets that Hart and Hollingsworth were 
 walking, talking together in a very friendly 
 fashion. When they reached the hotel where 
 they were going to dine, they turned into the 
 the billiard-room, took off their coats and be- 
 gan to knock the balls about. Ned Bliss, 
 coming in, stopped at the door and waved his 
 hand to them. 
 
 " Well, Pop 's as good as his word," he said to 
 himself, " in looking out for Ken. He 's rather 
 let up on the cocktail system lately." But Hart 
 had not spoken to Hollingsworth about the 
 cocktail, or any other habit. It would have 
 been entirely foreign to his nature for him to 
 have gone about matters in that way, volunteer- 
 ing advice, but he and her brother were be- 
 coming friendly ; that was enough. 
 
 After the concert the orders were to return
 
 250 A Prince toman. 
 
 to the car as soon as possible the train started 
 shortly after eleven o'clock. 
 
 Again Hart and Hollingsworth fell in to- 
 gether as they left the Opera House. It was 
 raining slightly, and Kenmore opened his um- 
 brella. Hart took him by the arm, and changed 
 step to walk with him. 
 
 " I say," said Hollingsworth at last, " I 'm 
 going to get something off my mind. I served 
 you a rotten mean trick last summer, and you 
 might as well know it." 
 
 " What did you do ? " Hart asked. 
 
 " I had the butler well, there 's no use 
 telling you, if you don't know," said Hollings- 
 worth, " but it was a mean trick, and I 'm sorry 
 for it." 
 
 " Did it do me any harm, or was it some- 
 thing you just said ? " 
 
 " Neither ; only it was n't very nice, and I 
 hope I 'm forgiven." 
 
 " That you are," Hart replied, giving him a 
 squeeze of the arm, " 'nuff said." 
 
 It had stopped raining all at once, and 
 Kenmore dropped back to speak to Talcott, as 
 they entered the railroad yard. 
 
 " Where the dickens is our car ? " asked one
 
 In Harness. 251 
 
 of the banjo players. " Nice kettle of fish if 
 they Ve gone off without us." 
 
 " I would n't care," said Briggs. " Say, did 
 you fellows see that pretty girl at the hotel?" 
 
 A little noisy engine, with a glaring, cyclo- 
 pean eye, was drilling some freight cars back 
 and forth on a siding, and a roaring passenger 
 locomotive, with steam all up, was being swung 
 about on a turn-table, moved by two men push- 
 ing at the end of the levers. They could just 
 be distinguished in the light from the neigh- 
 boring switch-tower. 
 
 " There 's our car, over there," yelled some 
 one in advance above the noise of the yard. 
 Hart turned to look for Hollingsworth, and the 
 others were surprised at the exclamation that 
 came from him, and at his sudden action. 
 There, in the bright circle thrown by the head- 
 light of the engine on the turn-table, crouched 
 Kenmore Hollingsworth, in the centre of the 
 track, tying his shoe, and bearing down upon 
 him was a heavy freight car, the man on top 
 screwing the brake as hard as he could, and 
 shouting at the top of his voice. Hollings- 
 worth did not hear him or the frightened call 
 of the others. The first thing he knew he was
 
 252 A Princetonian. 
 
 struck a terrific blow, and felt himself hauled, 
 or fairly thrown, off to one side across the 
 track. The swiftly-turning wheels, with the 
 great brake-shoes squeaking on them, rolled 
 by, not two feet away. He arose bewildered. 
 
 " Is he killed ? Is he killed ? " cried several 
 voices. And then Kenmore saw that there 
 was a figure on the ground. 
 
 " Good God ! it 's Pop," he cried. 
 
 One of the men at the turn-table ran across 
 with a lantern. 
 
 " Pick him up, you all, and carry him into 
 the switch-house," he said. 
 
 They picked up the limp figure, and in the 
 light of the lantern it was seen that Hart's face 
 was covered with blood that ran from a wound 
 on the forehead. But no sooner had they set 
 him down in a chair than he opened his eyes. 
 
 " How do you feel, old man ? " asked Ned, 
 who was sponging off his face. 
 
 " Guess I 'm all right. Hello ! got a bump 
 on the head ! " looking up he saw Hollings- 
 worth standing in front of him. 
 
 " Well, I say," he remarked grinning, " you 
 chose a nice place to tie your shoe." Then he 
 pushed himself up to his feet.
 
 In Harness. 253 
 
 Hollingsworth said nothing, but he and 
 Hart walked from the switch-house hand in 
 hand. 
 
 " Ye gods ! what a tackle that was," said 
 Briggs Talcott, with a shudder.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A PARTNERSHIP. 
 
 HART won the Baird prizes, with Heaphy a 
 close second. Despite the statement of the 
 latter that he envied lots of things, he appar- 
 ently was not jealous in the least of his 
 classmate's success. Upon the announcement 
 of the results, he congratulated him with an 
 honest earnestness that proved the sincerity 
 of his feeling. 
 
 Kenmore Hollingsworth's remarkable trans- 
 formation had been noticed and commented 
 upon in many different quarters. His friend- 
 ship for Hart may have produced some good 
 results most likely it did. 
 
 At any rate, the parting that took place in 
 June when Ned Bliss and Hollingsworth stood 
 on the platform of the railway station, showed 
 how much their affections had been entwined 
 about the associations of the four years just 
 ended but especially the last. 
 254
 
 A Partnership. 255 
 
 " I woke up last night," Ned said to Hart, 
 " saying, ' Good-bye, good-bye,' in my sleep. 
 . . . You 've got the finest year of your col- 
 lege life before you now, old man. I wish I 
 were a junior over again. But all good things 
 have an end ! Have you settled what you are 
 going to do this summer? " 
 
 " Yes," Hart replied ; " Heaphy and I have 
 got a job running a boarding-house." 
 
 " Running a boarding-house ! " exclaimed 
 Ned. 
 
 " Yes ; a juvenile boarding-house. Heaphy t 
 it seems, has a pull with some paper in New 
 York that has a Fresh Air Fund ; sends city kids 
 out into the country to gambol on the green." 
 
 " That 's what he worked at last summer, 
 wasn't it?" Ned inquired. 
 
 " Yes," Hart answered. " I think it will be 
 rather interesting. Besides, it pays pretty well, 
 which is something to be considered. Hullo, 
 here comes Ken." 
 
 Hollingsworth, followed by a colored man 
 carrying two immense valises, came running up. 
 Manager Bishop, Tommy Wilson, and Fred 
 Minton were there also, looking rather woe- 
 begone.
 
 256 A Princetonian. 
 
 "Halloo, you fellows," cried Kenmore. "Now, 
 don't let 's get glum. You 'd better change 
 your mind, Ned, and come along with me. 
 You '11 learn more of architecture than poling 
 in an office in New York." 
 
 "When do you sail?" Ned asked. "Of 
 course, I can't go, but I wish I could." 
 
 " Sail next Saturday. See Madge and mother 
 in London for a few days, and then take the 
 steamer for India, via Suez. My cousin, that 
 Harvard chap I had down here last week, and 
 who was 'so taken with the place, don't you 
 know, old fellow,' is going with me. I '11 be 
 back in less than a year, and Pop, old boy, I 
 want to find you right down here in this little 
 burgh, pushing things along. 
 
 " I hope you will," Hart answered. Then he 
 and Hollingsworth shook hands. 
 
 " Remember me to your sister, won't you ? " 
 
 " Indeed I shall." 
 
 Kenmore turned to Ned. " Now, don't weep, 
 you gaby. This train is going to start in about 
 one minute." 
 
 All up and down the platform farewells were 
 being said. Wilson, Bishop, and others came 
 crowding up. The conductor of the train
 
 A Partnership. 257 
 
 waved his hand to the fat engineer a cheer 
 there was a grumble of the wheels, and Bliss 
 and Hollingsworth each caught one of Hart's 
 hands. 
 
 " Good-bye, good-bye, old boy," they cried, 
 and swung themselves onto the moving plat- 
 form. 
 
 Hart slowly walked back to the campus. It 
 was all right ; they knew what they were going 
 to do. Ned was going to take up the study of 
 architecture, and was going to step right into 
 it. Kenmore was going to study law after his 
 return from his trip around the world. Hart 
 sighed ; when it came to his time to leave, it 
 would mean much more to him. It would be 
 like leaving the shelter of a home he loved, to 
 go out and do battle for life in "the wide 
 world " to which the class-day orator had of 
 course referred. 
 
 Now it would take a volume to tell of the 
 summer Hart and Heaphy spent at the farm in 
 Connecticut, where they entertained the hun- 
 dreds of little guests that the great New York 
 daily sent up to them to grow sunburned and 
 fat in the fields, and to return to their mothers in
 
 258 A Prince Ionian. 
 
 the sweating, heat-ridden city, laden down with 
 strange objects live turtles and bull-frogs, 
 dead beetles and butterflies, and with enough 
 health and vigor stored up to carry them 
 through the killing year to come. 
 
 Although Hart never inquired how it was 
 that Heaphy had obtained such a wonderful 
 influence with the paper that apparently did 
 not stint him in regard to expenditures, he 
 often wondered at the faith they displayed in 
 the manager of the " Clover Farm." Of course 
 he did not know that the rent of the big house 
 and most of the running expenses were defrayed 
 from Heaphy 's own private purse. But such 
 was the fact. Patrick Corse was carrying out 
 one of his own purposes, after his own method. 
 
 But the summer soon ran its course, and with 
 a goodly sum of money, Newton returned to 
 college. 
 
 The admiration that he held for Heaphy had 
 grown to a real affection, and the proposition 
 that they should still continue joining forces, 
 came from Patrick Corse himself. So they be- 
 came room-mates, and succeeded after some 
 manipulation in getting diggings together in 
 Reunion Hall.
 
 A Partnership. . 259 
 
 Hart was the first man of the University 
 now ; the great position of honor that he had 
 neither coveted nor sought, was his. He had 
 been elected Captain of the Eleven. The college 
 trusted him, the men obeyed him, and the 
 Graduate Advisory Committee were satisfied 
 that the conduct of affairs was in good hands. 
 But, sad to tell, in a practice game previous to 
 the struggle with Yale, Newton tore a ligament 
 in his shoulder so badly that in the first five 
 minutes of the great game he was forced to 
 leave the field, and lie on the side-line watch- 
 ing the brave efforts of his men to turn the tide 
 of misfortune that had set against them. Jack 
 Stahl had twisted his bad ankle at the begin- 
 ning of the second half, and was helped, limp- 
 ing off, to bury his head in a pile of blankets 
 at Hart's feet, where he wept like a baby and 
 would not be comforted. 
 
 But the young men from New Jersey filed 
 out from the grand stand at the end of the 
 game, cheeiing as bravely and loudly, if not so 
 wildly, as if the victory were theirs. 
 
 Junior year is the happiest, or should be the 
 happiest, of the undergraduate life. Free from
 
 260 A Princetonian. 
 
 the petty distinctions of the first two years, 
 surrounded by the broader horizon of the upper 
 classmen, gifted with the knowledge and judg- 
 ment that must of necessity result from ex- 
 perience, a man begins to know himself and 
 others ; the real friendships of college life are 
 made to last through life. By junior year a 
 man stands for what he is. He has profited by 
 the mistakes of the feverish sophomore year. 
 At least he can mind his own business, and he 
 should appreciate this privilege and show it. 
 The freshmen look up at him with respect, the 
 hostile feeling of the class below evaporates ; 
 he can "smoke his pipe and sing his glees" in 
 peace and comfort. With the grave and rev- 
 erend senior he holds his place. 
 
 Although sadly disappointed at the result of 
 the football game, Newton had lost nothing of 
 the college confidence. He worked hard but 
 his room door was open to any one who 
 knocked (some did not, by the way) early or 
 late. He and Heaphy had not gone in for 
 mural decoration. Hart's chiefest treasure was 
 a photograph that Ned had given him, only be- 
 cause he had caught him picking it up so often 
 in his room. In it were Ned and his sister,
 
 A Partnership. 261 
 
 Danforth, and a lot of strangers, but standing 
 back of them, looking squarely out at one, was 
 Madge Hollingsworth. The likeness was ex- 
 cellent, and the expression was characteristic 
 of her ; an honest smile, without self-conscious- 
 ness or affectation. Somehow Hart could not 
 look at it without hearing the sound of her 
 voice. 
 
 During the junior year L. Putney Betts had 
 grown very sedate, and Simeon Talcott Con- 
 greve had developed a literary turn. Terence 
 Golatly was perhaps the most popular man in 
 college next to the Captain of the Eleven. He 
 was president of the athletic association, Ter- 
 ence was, and often used to trot around the 
 track in abbreviated costume, "just to encour- 
 age the others," he said. But his endeavors 
 were not serious, although he averred stoutly 
 that there was one man he could beat in college 
 at all round athletics (hurdles preferred) and 
 that was Charlie Townes. Charlie, who was 
 heavy enough as a freshman, heaven knows, 
 now tipped the beam in the neighborhood 
 of 240 Ibs., " principally avoirdupois," Golatly 
 stated. But his good-humor had apparently 
 developed with him. He was now rooming
 
 262 A Princetonian. 
 
 with Jimmie James, who stood a good chance 
 of being elected the captain of the baseball 
 nine. Jimmie was reckoned the best first-base 
 man that Princeton had produced for a long 
 time, which is saying not a little. 
 
 The college year rolled by. Vacations were 
 past and over. Examinations came and went, 
 and June and another commencement arrived 
 after a year of great prosperity at Nassau Hall. 
 
 Professor Ransom was a young man who had 
 taken up his profession with enthusiasm, an en- 
 thusiasm that was contagious, but that did not 
 prevent his enjoying life outside of his work. 
 He was friendly with the students. His classes 
 were well filled, and he did not have to ask for 
 attention during recitation, he commanded it 
 without effort. The young Professor was look- 
 ing over a pile of little white pamphlets in his 
 room when the servant entered with the morn- 
 ing's mail. There was a letter in a strong angu- 
 lar hand, in a square envelope, that the Pro- 
 fessor opened first. Then he leaned back in hfs 
 chair and tapped the letter thoughtfully with 
 his finger. 
 
 " I know just the man for her," he said to
 
 A Partnership. 263 
 
 himself, and picking up his pen he began to 
 scribble busily. " Dear Mrs. Carter," he wrote, 
 " I was very glad to get your note of inquiry. 
 I have just the man for you, and I think your 
 boys would like to have him for a tutor. His 
 name is Newton Wilberforce Hart. He came 
 here a Westerner, fresh from life in one of the 
 little towns of Nebraska. Perhaps nowhere 
 could he have found an atmosphere so con- 
 genial for expansion and growth as he found 
 here. He is perfectly capable of instructing 
 your boys in any study. He is a personal 
 friend of mine, and I cannot but add that he 
 has my admiration, as he has- the trust of the 
 faculty. I should be glad to point him out to 
 anyone as a Princetonian. I shall ask him if he 
 would like to take the position, which I regard 
 as a great chance and shall let you know imme- 
 diately. I know that Harold and Billy will like 
 him as soon as they have set eyes on him the 
 idea of having a 'Varsity captain for tutor 
 should be enough ! I suppose that you will 
 pass the summer at Coverley. I shall never 
 forget the delightful times that I have had 
 there. I trust that I will be able to accept 
 your kind invitation and make you a visit."
 
 264 A Prince toman. 
 
 Having finished this epistle, the Professor 
 turned again to the pile of little white pam- 
 phlets. With a smile of satisfaction and pleas- 
 ure he read the name " Patrick Corse Heaphy " 
 on the first one.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SURGIT AMARI ALIQUID. 
 
 COVERLEY, Massachusetts, lies not far from 
 the seacoast, in a beautiful rolling country with 
 smooth, hard roads stretching between the lit- 
 tle towns round about. Fine country houses, 
 the summer residences of wealthy or well-to- 
 do citizens, are to be seen on every hand. The 
 large country-club that stands well back among 
 the trees at the end of an avenue, well indicates 
 the love for, and the glowing interest in, outdoor 
 sports. Its wide piazzas, on late afternoons, 
 are thronged with groops of well-dressed wo- 
 men. Healthy, athletic-looking men are scat- 
 tered about. The polo field ends almost at 
 the house, and on days when a game is in prog- 
 ress, the piazza, is a brilliant sight. Back of the 
 club building, on the terrace, are the tennis 
 courts, surrounded by frames of wire netting, 
 and on the upper court, one August afternoon, 
 265
 
 266 A Prince toman. 
 
 three young men were playing; two of them 
 were very young indeed, scarcely more than 
 boys. 
 
 " Play up closer to the net, Billy," the taller 
 one shouted, spinning his racket in his hand, 
 " that 's where he lands them in every time." 
 
 " All right, I '11 brace up now." 
 
 The shorter lad stepped up to the net, and 
 spread his legs wide apart with a " do or die " 
 expression on his face. 
 
 " Play ! Mr. Hart," the first speaker called as 
 he served the ball. 
 
 From the piazza the game was being watched 
 by two very handsome women, one of whom 
 was shading her face with a parasol from the 
 slanting rays of the sun. 
 
 " You know, I feel a good deal like the boys 
 about him," said Mrs. Carter, giving her para- 
 sol a little twirl. " They are constantly en- 
 deavoring to show him off, only he won't be 
 shown off. There 's something strange, almost 
 sad, about him too. I have never asked him 
 about his history, but I think he has been 
 through some great trouble or experience." 
 
 " You always were of a romantic and imagi- 
 native turn of mind, Clara," the taller woman
 
 Surgit Amari A liquid. 267 
 
 rejoined with a little laugh. "You must not 
 forget that you are referred to as an attractive 
 young widow." 
 
 " Not very young with those two reminders," 
 laughed Mrs. Carter, indicating the youths on 
 the tennis court. 
 
 But to tell the truth, she looked young in- 
 deed as she spoke. Her black hair did not 
 show a single touch of gray and her complexion 
 was like that of a young girl in her teens, while 
 the wonderful dark eyes that her boys had in- 
 herited from her, sparkled and snapped with 
 the vivacious humor that was betrayed also in 
 the curves of her mouth. Her companion 
 looked to be the older ; her hair was gray at 
 the temples, and although she was very hand- 
 some, and her figure was youthful, she did not 
 possess the attraction that Mrs. Carter held for 
 the masculine eye. 
 
 Mrs. Trevellian and Mrs. Carter had been 
 rivals in their girlhood, but the former's life 
 had not been devoid of trials. She had mar- 
 ried an officer in an English huzzar regiment, 
 and after having put up with his doings for a 
 number of years had gone to the courts for re- 
 lief, which had been promptly accorded her.
 
 268 A Princetonian. 
 
 She could yet keep herself surrounded, how- 
 ever, and expected proper homage. 
 
 " Game and set," called one of the young 
 men from the tennis court, triumphantly. 
 Their opponent laughed, picked up a coat from 
 the ground and flung it over his shoulders; then 
 he followed the two boys up to the piazza. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Hart," called Mrs. Carter, as he ap- 
 proached, " I want to introduce you to Mrs. 
 Trevellian." He bowed his acknowledgments. 
 
 The tall woman looked at him curiously. 
 " Rather uncommon," was her mental comment. 
 
 " You 're a Princeton man, Mrs. Carter tells 
 me, Mr. Hart," she said. " I wonder if you 
 ever knew my cousin, Raymond Danforth." 
 
 " Oh, yes," Hart answered, " I used to know 
 him. But he was one or two classes ahead of 
 me." 
 
 " Do you think he learned all he knows at 
 Princeton ? " inquired Mrs. Trevellian with a 
 little smile. "If so it must be a most remark- 
 able place. I used to hear of his goings on." 
 
 Hart shrugged his shoulders. " Really that 
 would be hard to state," he replied ; " I dare 
 say he picked something up on the outside." 
 
 "And probably imbibed not a little before he
 
 Surgit Amari A liquid. 269 
 
 went to college," laughed Mrs. Trevellian. " Oh, 
 you don't know my nephew," she went on, 
 turning to Mrs. Carter. " The most fascinating 
 and self-centred individual in the world. By 
 the way, he is coming here some time this 
 month." 
 
 " I supposed that he would be here when 
 the HolHngsworth's came," Mrs. Carter replied. 
 I Ve never met him, but I have heard of his 
 being very much interested in Madge." 
 
 Hart winced at this little speech. 
 
 " Well, I hope that he gets her," remarked 
 Mrs. Trevellian. " It would need just such a 
 girl as that to keep Raymond in order." 
 
 Hart bowed and walked away. Entering 
 the Club House, he passed through the hall, 
 down the piazza steps, and struck across the 
 lawn. 
 
 So she was coming here and Danforth was 
 still in attendance ! Although the idea of his 
 entering the lists as a rival appeared rather pre- 
 posterous to him, the thought of Raymond 
 Danforth winning the affections of Madge 
 Hollingsworth seemed quite as much so. Yet 
 what he had just heard had aroused many bitter 
 feelings. He was not jealous nor envious of
 
 270 A Princetonian. 
 
 Danforth's position, but he felt how unjust it 
 was for a man who had lived the life that he 
 had, and held opinions such as he had advanced 
 in regard to women in general, how unjust it 
 was for such a one not to let women know 
 about himself in the same frank way that he 
 proclaimed his beliefs and acknowledged his 
 mode of life before men. 
 
 Hart was an extreme idealist ; he had divided 
 womankind into two classes, and two only ; in 
 his mind they were separated by the very light- 
 est barrier. On one side were those so safe from 
 a man's thoughts, except his holiest, that they 
 might be saints enshrined. Across the barrier 
 were the others ; that was all. A girl who 
 would flirt or make the mistake of becoming 
 so familiar that men might bandy her name 
 about without the blow of honor being struck ; 
 who encouraged looks that should make a 
 woman shudder, that woman stepped across 
 the line, and left the saints enshrined without 
 disturbing in the least Hart's high ideal, or his 
 belief in the sanctity of woman. Thus his love 
 for Miss Hollingsworth had taken the form of a 
 religion ; a religion that precluded the entrance 
 of many temptations into his life. He had
 
 Surgit A mart A liqu id. 2 7 1 
 
 reasoned that even were she married to another 
 man, a thought that would make him chill 
 through and through at times, he could still 
 maintain this belief, and live with the knowl- 
 edge of this love (that he had told no living 
 being) wrapped in his breast, to direct him to 
 the right life, and the fine things in it. He 
 felt that should she marry a man who would 
 not treat her kindly, who would not appreciate 
 her, that he could so hate that man that he might 
 well desire to kill him. 
 
 As his thoughts worked faster, he increased 
 his stride. He did not notice as he tore down 
 the road that someone was following him 
 closely. But one of the Carter boys had 
 mounted his bicycle, and with an amused ex- 
 pression on his face was silently dogging his 
 tutor's footsteps. At last he could repress his 
 curiosity no longer. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hart," he called, "where under 
 the sun are you going ? " 
 
 Hart turned. 
 
 " I never saw such a lickity-split gait," 
 laughed young Billy, trying to stand still on 
 his machine. " It looked as if you were mad 
 at something."
 
 272 A Princetonian. 
 
 "What made you think that?" Hart in- 
 quired, forcing himself to smile. 
 
 " Oh, from the way you held your shoulders 
 and stepped out with your feet," the boy 
 replied dismounting. " I say," he went on, 
 " Harold wants to know if you won't let us off 
 our Latin this afternoon. We '11 do a lot 
 better to-morrow." 
 
 " Why, certainly, I never insist upon any- 
 thing." 
 
 " That 's mighty nice," Billy laughed, " but 
 you do without saying so, pretty often, all the 
 same. I '11 ride back and tell Harold. We '11 
 hold a meeting and vote you thanks. You 're 
 a brick." 
 
 He jumped on his wheel and rode back to 
 the Club House. Hart continued his walk at 
 a slower pace.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 PARTISANS. 
 
 " I HAVE a message for you, Mr. Hart," said 
 Mrs. Carter, looking in at the door of the 
 library where he and the two boys were work- 
 ing at a long table. " Mrs. Trevellian wishes 
 to know if you won't dine with her to-night ; 
 just a small, very informal dinner; you had 
 better accept. There 's going to be the pretti- 
 est girl you ever saw there. By the way, she 
 had a brother at Princeton. Madge Hollings- 
 worth is her name ; and I suppose more men 
 have been crazy about her than about any 
 woman I ever knew." 
 
 Hart had arisen when Mrs. Carter entered 
 the room. 
 
 " I Ve met Miss Hollingsworth," he answered, 
 gravely, " and I know her brother very well. 
 He has not returned from his trip around the 
 world, I believe." 
 
 ,73
 
 274 A Princetonian. 
 
 " So I hear," Mrs. Carter replied. " Oh, by 
 the way, Raymond Danforth, Mrs. Trevellian's 
 cousin is going to be there also. He was at 
 the Club House this morning." 
 
 " I saw him," put in Billy, looking up from 
 his algebra. " He looks like a Frenchman." 
 
 " I promised Mrs. Trevellian that you would 
 come, so don't say you won't," Mrs. Carter 
 went on, smiling. " No need of writing ; I 'm 
 going to see her in a few minutes, and I '11 just 
 tell her that you will come with pleasure." 
 
 " Thank you," said Hart, " I will." 
 
 Mrs. Carter had a way of taking everyone 
 under her roof into her family, her servants 
 included. Perhaps they were allowed more 
 privileges than hired servitors generally are, 
 but they certainly appreciated their positions. 
 She had been criticised perhaps for allowing too 
 much familiarity between herself and the peo- 
 ple in her household, but it was a familiarity 
 that had resulted in no disrespect, or imperti- 
 nent assumption. She would nurse a sick ser- 
 vant as conscientiously as she would anyone 
 of her kindred. 
 
 Although Hart did not suspect it, he had 
 won a large share of her generous affection.
 
 Partisans. 275 
 
 She was quite as proud of him as were her two 
 fine boys. Although she had never penetrated 
 the reserve that characterized him, she had 
 found out not a little about his past life and 
 his aspirations. Plainly enough she had shown 
 her interest and friendship. Hart had grown 
 to think of her, in return for this, as belonging 
 to the type of women who live for others and 
 bring happiness into the world. This was true, 
 for Mrs. Carter, despite a rather careless atti- 
 tude, had no thought but that of doing good, 
 and selfishness or self-interest had been left out 
 of her composition. She was like an older 
 sister to her boys, without losing in their eyes 
 a whit of the dignity of motherhood. 
 
 Mrs. Trevellian's house was a very small 
 one ; in fact, she referred to it as the " Band- 
 box." It was built into a side-hill, and the 
 rooms on the ground floor merged into the 
 hallway through very large doorways. But 
 the hangings and decorations were as dainty 
 as possible. The treasures that good taste had 
 accumulated, and knew well how to display, 
 were in evidence, but made no show of lavish 
 expenditure. There was little trace of mascu-
 
 276 A Princetonian. 
 
 line suggestion, and but few evidences of the 
 sterner sex's presence. These evidences con- 
 sisted of an abundance of ash-trays and cigar- 
 ettes on table and mantelpiece, and a series 
 of handsome decanters on the sideboard in the 
 tiny dining-room to the left. The kitchen of 
 the little house, Mrs. Trevellian had once in- 
 sisted, was no larger than the fireplace of the 
 Country Club. But the dantiest of dinners 
 came from this diminutive kitchen neverthe- 
 less, and an invitation to Mrs. Trevellian's was 
 valued accordingly. 
 
 As Hart helped Mrs. Carter out of the car- 
 riage and entered the hallway, he heard the 
 chatter of voices rising from behind a tall screen 
 in the little drawing-room on the right. 
 
 The grave-faced little buttons took his hat 
 and coat and then turned to someone who 
 had entered from the outside without ringing 
 the bell. It was Raymond Danforth, and his 
 surprise at seeing Hart was ill-concealed. 
 
 " Well, where under the sun did you come 
 from ? " he inquired quietly, extending his 
 hand. 
 
 " From Mrs. Carter's. I 'm tutor to her two 
 boys," Hart replied.
 
 Partisans. 277 
 
 " Oh, that 's the game now," spoke Danforth 
 smiling superciliously. " Soft snap, eh ? Quite 
 in clover." 
 
 Hearing the sound of voices, Mrs. Travellian 
 stepped from behind the screen. 
 
 " Come in, come in," she said. " We have 
 had a hen party here for some time." 
 
 Mrs. Carter at this moment came down the 
 stairs, as light-footed, despite her plump figure, 
 as a school-girl. The two young men stepped 
 aside for her to pass them, and Mrs. Tre- 
 vellian touched her lightly on the cheek. 
 
 " Late, as usual," she said laughing. Then 
 she turned to Danforth who had stepped 
 ahead of Hart. " I had half a mind not to 
 ask you, Ray," she laughed. "You never 
 call upon your relatives." 
 
 "A most cruel speech," Danforth said, tak- 
 ing her hand and kissing it, an act that be- 
 came his appearance very well. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Hart, I am so glad you could 
 come," went on Mrs. Trevellian, extending her 
 disengaged hand and shaking his warmly. " I 
 want to present you to Miss Hollingsworth." 
 
 " Mr. Hart and I are old friends," said a 
 voice with a musical diapason.
 
 278 A Princetonian. 
 
 Once more he felt the gray eyes look into 
 his. His pulse beat fast. Oh, how he loved 
 this tall girl ! Her very presence seemed to 
 lend a different atmosphere to the breathing 
 space about her. But he controlled himself 
 and asked the news of Kenmore quietly. Then 
 Mrs. Trevellian spoke to him in a way that de- 
 manded his undivided attention and Raymond 
 Danforth settled himself on the sofa beside 
 Miss Hollingsworth. 
 
 Hart shot a glance at him. Despite Dan- 
 forth's collected manner, the condition of his 
 feelings was readable with half an eye, and, 
 moreover, his attitude showed that he did not 
 consider it necessary to maintain a worshipful 
 distance. He leaned toward her, supporting 
 his head on his hand, with his elbow on the 
 back of the sofa. Miss Hollingsworth sat very 
 straight and listened to what he was murmuring 
 with an expressionless face. She did not pos- 
 sess any manifestations of nervousness. She 
 did not play with her rings, or twist her 
 gloves. Many people who did not know her 
 had thought that her nature was a cold one. 
 This was not true ; her balance was perfect, and 
 her self-control wonderful. But the warmest
 
 Partisans. 2 79 
 
 of hearts beat within her, and her tears were 
 more often near the surface than even her near- 
 est friends suspected. 
 
 Hart found that he was to sit next to Mrs. 
 Trevellian, on her right. Just before dinner 
 was announced by the pretty, red-cheeked 
 maid, the sixth member of the party made his 
 appearance. 
 
 Count Von Gillig hardly deserves descrip- 
 tion. His title was beyond dispute, and his 
 opinions were not worth disputing ; but he was 
 not a bad person to have at a dinner. He had 
 an appreciative appetite, and a desire to make 
 himself entertaining. This with good manners 
 made him bearable as a table companion. 
 What he said often excited laughter that ap- 
 parently pleased him, and Mrs. Carter declared 
 that he was so silly that he was absolutely en- 
 tertaining. The Count sat on the hostess's left, 
 next to Miss Hollingsworth, and Raymond 
 Dan forth was at the head of the table. 
 
 Mrs. Trevellian had a great admiration for 
 good-looking men, in spite of her experience 
 with one who was more renowned for his good 
 looks than for anything else, and Hart's appear- 
 ance had rather impressed her the first time
 
 280 A Princetonian. 
 
 she had seen him, and, now, as she turned to 
 speak to him, she caught such a far-away ex- 
 pression on his face, that she rather studied it 
 before she spoke to interrupt his thoughts. 
 " Scarcely handsome," she said to herself, " but 
 powerful." What she said was rather flippant, 
 however. " Thinking of home and mother, 
 Mr. Hart?" she inquired. 
 
 " Well, no ; not exactly, Mrs. Trevellian," he 
 answered composedly. " I possess neither." 
 
 " Pardon me, it was only your expression 
 that led me to speak so foolishly," she said, a 
 bit taken aback. " Really your mind was some- 
 where else. Your reply might prompt another 
 question you suggest that you are a mys- 
 tery." 
 
 Hart laughed. " If you think so, I will help 
 you solve me." 
 
 " No, you would n't," replied Mrs. Trevellian. 
 " I 'm of a curious temper, and you would 
 answer my questions so cautiously, that I would 
 learn nothing. But I won't begin now because 
 we might be interrupted. Somehow I think 
 your forte is politics." 
 
 It was the year of a presidential election ; the 
 country was all agog upon a question of a vital
 
 Partisans. 281 
 
 national issue. Count Von Gillig had caught 
 the word ' politics.' 
 
 " What a strange thing it is," he said, " I have 
 never met politicians in this country. Do they 
 live all the year round in Washington ? Why 
 do they hide themselves ? I luf to talk politics 
 but they will not let me." 
 
 " Unfortunately," put in Danforth from the 
 head of the table, " it is not considered polite 
 conversation, Count ; and there are ladies 
 present." 
 
 " Probably we would enjoy sensible talk more 
 than you have any idea of, Mr. Danforth," said 
 Mrs. Carter, " and know more about the subject 
 than you think we do." 
 
 "All women know more than most men think 
 they do," said the little German, who very often 
 said rather clever things, as if by accident 
 really he was no fool. 
 
 " It is nonsense to suppose that women don't 
 take interest in such matters," put in Mrs. Tre- 
 vellian. " Somebody, I have forgotten who, 
 persuaded me to sign a paper begging some- 
 body, or some legislature, or something, to 
 allow us women a chance to vote. I think we 
 should. Don't you, Madge ? " this to Miss 
 Hollingsworth.
 
 282 A Princetonian. 
 
 " No," was the rejoinder ; " I 'm very glad 
 I don't have to." She looked across the table 
 at Hart with a quizzical little smile. " I don't 
 object though to hearing sensible discus- 
 sion," she added. " Or being told why men 
 vote for one thing or the other. If I were a 
 man, I should be sure to know reasons, and be 
 willing to give them." 
 
 (< Well, there are no sensible reasons why any 
 one should vote for the candidate from the 
 Middle States," observed Danforth, as if that 
 settled the matter. 
 
 " Pardon me," said Hart, " I think there 
 are." 
 
 " Bravo," said Mrs. Carter, clapping her 
 hands. " Tell us why." 
 
 Nothing had been farther from his thoughts 
 than to start a political discussion by thus 
 taking up Danforth's words, and he rather 
 regretted having spoken so hastily. 
 
 " Yes ; tell us why," Danforth repeated, tak- 
 ing a sip of champagne, and leaning forward in 
 an attitude of attention. 
 
 " You have my permission," said Mrs. 
 Trevellian. 
 
 Hart began to talk. He knew well the sub-
 
 Partisans. 283 
 
 ject before him, and although he grew inter- 
 ested and was earnest, he did not allow himself 
 to become excited in the least. Danforth en- 
 courged him to go on by little questions and 
 interjections. So he talked longer than, per- 
 haps, otherwise he should. At last, it came to 
 his mind that he was really taking up too much 
 time. The Count, with a visibly bored expres- 
 sion, was regarding him through a single eye- 
 glass, and at last he caught a smile on Raymond 
 Danforth's face, and stopped. 
 
 " Well, what can you say to that, Mr. Dan- 
 forth ? " said Mrs. Carter, to whom the refer- 
 ences and general subject might have been 
 Greek or Hebrew. 
 
 " Humph," observed Danforth. " After such 
 a fine oration as that, there is nothing to be 
 said. I saw your friend, Mrs. Ellsworth, at 
 Newport this year," he added, smiling as if 
 taking advantage of getting rid of the subject. 
 
 Hart looked down at his plate. It had not 
 struck him before that a long speech on the 
 political situation was hardly table-talk. He 
 saw immediately that it had been Danforth's 
 intention to make him ridiculous, if possible. 
 He was angry at himself, and angry at the im-
 
 284 A Prince Ionian. 
 
 pertinence with which Danforth had begun and 
 then dismissed the matter. But glancing up 
 he saw that Miss Hollingsworth was looking at 
 him. There was an expression on her face that 
 drove every angry feeling from his mind. Her 
 eyes met his, but for an instant ; but there 
 flashed from them a glance of sympathy and 
 understanding, with something else lurking be- 
 hind it, that might have indicated a suddenly 
 awakened interest or admiration. Mrs. Tre- 
 vellian, who had caught it, gave a little 
 start. 
 
 " What you said, Mr. Hart," she laughed, 
 " makes me wish more than ever that I could 
 vote, but now we are going to leave you to 
 your cigars." 
 
 After the ladies had left, Danforth apparently 
 ignored Hart's presence altogether and began a 
 long discussion in German with Count Gillig. 
 Hart sat silently smoking, and his thoughts 
 ranged wide. What was it all tending to ? 
 Where would he fetch up ? Somehow he longed 
 for the old, untroubled life that he had led 
 when a clerk in the store at Oakland. He 
 pictured to himself Mr. Van Clees and his wife, 
 sitting in the little front room upstairs with the
 
 Partisans. 285 
 
 parlor melodeon locked and tuneless. Poor lit- 
 tle Mabel ! He had not thought of her of late, 
 and no word had he heard for three years now. 
 What a strange thing his short friendship with 
 Danforth had been. Why was it that life held 
 so many complications ? Here she was, and yet 
 so far away from him. He had hardly spoken 
 to her. How hard it was to keep from saying 
 the words that kept repeating themselves over 
 and over to his inner consciousness. He had 
 finished his cigar, or, at least, it had gone out, 
 and suddenly arising, he pushed back the por- 
 tiere and entered the next room. With that 
 gesture of invitation that is really a welcome, 
 Miss Hollingsworth made room for him to sit 
 beside her on the sofa. 
 
 " Do you know," she said, " it was very fine 
 of you to speak the way you did to-night. I 
 enjoyed every word of it, and what is more," she 
 added with a smile, " I think I understood it. 
 Do you know, I have wanted to speak to you 
 all the evening. There is something that I 
 have wished to say, that I could not say before 
 everybody, because I knew you would not like 
 it " 
 
 Just then the curtains were pulled apart and
 
 286 A Princetonian. 
 
 with a laugh the Count and Danforth came into 
 the room. 
 
 Unseen by Hart Miss Hollingsworth's -fan 
 had slipped to the floor. The Count hastened 
 forward and picked it up, bowing extravagantly, 
 and then standing before her for all the world 
 like a terrier dog that demanded to have its 
 head patted. There was no chance for Madge 
 to finish what she was going to say. She 
 glanced up at Newton hopelessly, and just 
 then Mrs. Trevellian called him, a summons he 
 felt compelled to obey. 
 
 But before she left, however, Madge found 
 chance to say to him, " Do come and see us ; 
 we are stopping at the Inn at Rockcoast." 
 
 As Mrs. Carter and Hart drove home that 
 night the kind lady delivered herself of the 
 following little speech : 
 
 " You were perfectly right to say what you 
 did, dear boy," giving him a friendly touch on 
 the back of the hand, " and that nasty little snip 
 made me so mad I could have scratched him." 
 
 Hart did not reply as there was nothing he 
 could think of to say at the moment. What 
 it was that Miss Hollingsworth had intended to 
 speak to him about, he could not imagine, but
 
 Partisans, 287 
 
 the next morning after the lessons with the 
 boys were over, he started across country for 
 Rockcoast, a little collection of houses on the 
 stony shore of the wide bay. The Inn was a 
 picturesque little building, that, although it was 
 very new had the appearance of having stood 
 where it was for years. 
 
 " Miss Hollingsworth was here with her 
 mother but a few moments ago," said the clerk, 
 replying to Hart's inquiry. " I think you will 
 find them down at the observatory." 
 
 The observatory was a small summer-house 
 built out upon the rocks, but a few hundred 
 yards across the road from the Inn. A little 
 stretch of sandy beach was at one side and a 
 few commodious-looking bath-houses stood in 
 from sight at the bottom of the little cliff. 
 
 Newton caught a glimpse of some people 
 seated against the railing, but before he had 
 crossed the road, a tall girl arose and hastened 
 down the steps ; he met her on the walk. 
 
 " I recognized you as you came from the 
 Inn, Mr. Hart," said Madge Hollingsworth. 
 " To-day is no day for sitting still ; let 's take a 
 little stroll and I can tell you what I did n't get 
 a chance to tell you last night."
 
 288 A Princetonian. 
 
 " I Ve been wondering what it was," was New- 
 ton's answer, as he looked down at her. 
 
 She lowered her eyes for a minute, and then 
 nodding her head, she said, " Let 's walk up 
 in this direction, along the rocks, and I can 
 begin." 
 
 He did not reply. The delight of being 
 with her kept him silent, and he waited for her 
 to speak again. 
 
 " Mr. Hart," she said at last, turning to him, 
 as they left the road and took a worn pathway 
 to the left, " Kenmore told us something when 
 we saw him in England, so long ago, and I wish 
 to thank you for what you did. He told us 
 that you saved his life. Mamma of course 
 wants to thank you too. She has just gone 
 out driving, but you must wait until you see 
 her. You know it 's hard to put one's feelings 
 in words, but I love Kenmore, and I have 
 worried about him very much. You have 
 been " 
 
 " It was n't anything to do," Newton blurted 
 out, " so please don't try to say anything more 
 about it. I just happened to see him first 
 that 's all." 
 
 " I understand."
 
 Partisans. 289 
 
 There was a little quiver in the corner of her 
 mouth and a curious shake in her voice. For 
 a minute they strolled on in silence. 
 
 " You know, I think that Kenmore has much 
 improved ; I can't tell exactly how, but we had 
 a long talk when I met him ; something we 
 have n't had for years. Although he is older 
 than I by a year and more, I sometimes feel as 
 if he were much the younger." 
 
 " I misjudged him very much at first," Hart 
 returned, " but really I soon found out what a 
 fine fellow he was." 
 
 " Tell me," she asked suddenly, " what do 
 you think of Mr. Danforth?" 
 
 " I think he is a very uncommonplace man," 
 Newton answered quietly, " with a remarkable 
 mind and a chance in life, if he should choose 
 to use it. Such a thing as failure, he would 
 not understand." 
 
 " I take you to mean that with a strong in- 
 centive he could accomplish a great deal," said 
 the girl, pausing for a minute and looking out 
 over the water, " and that his real capacities 
 have not been awakened." 
 
 "Yes," Hart answered, "that would be a 
 
 good way to put it." 
 
 19
 
 290 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Just one other question it may be unfair, 
 but I trust not do you like him ? " 
 
 " No," returned Hart honestly, " I don't." 
 
 Miss Hollingsworth started walking forward 
 again, and now she changed the direction of 
 conversation without leaving the subject. 
 
 "Do you really think that he understood 
 exactly what you said last night, and just did 
 not wish to try to answer you ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Hart, " I think that's it. His 
 answer would have been worth listening to. He 
 is not a random talker by any means." 
 
 " Well, let 's drop him for a moment," said 
 Madge, with a nervous laugh, " and talk about 
 yourself. This is your senior year now, is n't 
 it ? What are you going to do when you 
 leave ? Don't think me impertinent, asking 
 you so many questions ! pray don't ! " 
 
 "Think you impertinent ! " ejaculated Hart, 
 '* if you only knew " He checked himself. 
 " Your interest is very kind ; thank you for it," 
 he went on. " But to answer you I have not 
 exactly decided what I shall do. I might do 
 as a friend of mine has done, and try teaching 
 school ; but I don't think that it would suit me 
 altogether. I would like something else better."
 
 Partisans. 291 
 
 " Something broader, you mean," said Madge. 
 " Something bigger than explaining text-books. 
 I should think that you might make a good 
 lawyer." 
 
 " That was my ambition when I first came 
 to college." 
 
 " Have you another now? You don't appear 
 to me to be a man who would give up easily." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 They sat down upon the edge of a rock, and 
 Miss Hollingsworth asked him something about 
 a statement that he had made in his little speech 
 at the dinner. 
 
 What a grand pleasure it was thus to talk to 
 her. All feeling of constraint left him, and to 
 talk to a woman who is really interested and 
 appreciates, is one of the greatest delights that 
 a man can have on earth, especially if it gives 
 him an excuse to look into her eyes, and to 
 hear her voice replying to his. Neither of 
 them noticed how quickly the time passed, 
 until suddenly Madge raised her head. 
 
 " Here comes Mamma now," she said. " And 
 Mary Bliss. It must be nearly luncheon time 
 at the Inn." 
 
 Hart turned around and saw a tall woman
 
 2 92 A Princetonian. 
 
 approaching. Mary scarcely reached to her 
 shoulder as she waved her hand. " How d' ye 
 do?" she called. The elder woman regarded 
 him through her lorgnette as he stepped for- 
 ward. 
 
 " Mr. Hart, Mamma," said Miss Hollings- 
 worth, " Kenmore's friend at Princeton." 
 
 Mrs. Hollingsworth spoke in a deep chest- 
 voice without evidence of much feeling. 
 
 " I am glad to be able to thank you, Mr. Hart, 
 and I suppose my daughter already has done 
 so ; Kenmore told us of your brave deed and 
 the risk you ran." 
 
 " I think it was perfectly splendid," put in 
 Miss Bliss. " Ned wrote us all about it at the 
 time." 
 
 " Mr. Hart will take luncheon with us, of 
 course," said Mrs. Hollingsworth, " and really 
 we are quite late now. We had better go back 
 at once, Madge." 
 
 She started down the path, the three young 
 people following behind her. 
 
 As they came into the dining-room of the 
 Inn, Raymond Danforth rose from a corner. 
 He greeted Hart quite cordially, but his pres- 
 ence lent rather a constraint throughout the
 
 Partisans. 293 
 
 luncheon, to Hart's mind, at least, although 
 Dan forth was affability itself. 
 
 Newton returned to Mrs. Carter's as soon as 
 luncheon was over. He swung along at a 
 rapid pace in high spirits. He was going to 
 see her again, for Miss Hollingsworth told him 
 that they expected to be in the neighborhood 
 of Coverley for some time. Despite the hand- 
 some place they owned at Hilltop, they gen- 
 erally spent a fortnight here during the last 
 weeks of summer. 
 
 There is but one more episode to dwell upon 
 before Hart's return to college work. A day 
 or so after the talk on the rocks there was a 
 dance at the Coverley Country Club. Newton 
 went on Mrs. Carter's invitation. As he en- 
 tered the big room he passed close to Mrs. 
 Trevellian and Danforth, who were talking to- 
 gether in a corner. 
 
 "Well, I wish you every success, my dear 
 boy," Mrs. Trevellian was saying, "for many 
 reasons, and anything I can do to help, you 
 know I '11 do it." 
 
 "Well, I don't intend to give up, you can 
 rest assured of that," said Danforth, closing his 
 jaws.
 
 294 -A Princetoman. 
 
 Despite the smallness of his features, his face 
 had a certain strength and determination. 
 
 Suddenly his cousin touched him on the arm. 
 
 " Look," she said ; " watch your tall college 
 friend. He 's looking for her, too." 
 
 Hart's eyes were searching the room. All at 
 once he caught sight of Madge sitting oppo- 
 site ; Miss Bliss was beside her. They both 
 nodded to him, and he crossed over to them. 
 
 " I am not afraid of that sort," said Dan- 
 forth with a sneer. 
 
 In answer, Mrs. Trevellian merely raised her 
 eyebrows. 
 
 "Then you are not so clever as I thought 
 you were," she said. " I think she likes him. 
 Does he dance?" 
 
 " Not that I know of," Danforth replied. 
 
 " Well, then, go over at once and take her 
 out. I know Mrs. Hollingsworth very well ; 
 I may be able to do you a good turn." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm friends enough with the old lady," 
 said Danforth, rising. " I think she 'd like it 
 well enough." 
 
 With that he walked across the room. Miss 
 Bliss frowned a little as she saw him approach- 
 ing, but in another instant he had placed his
 
 Partisans. 295 
 
 hand familiarly on Hart's shoulder with a " Beg 
 pardon, old man," and just as the music began 
 to play a two-step he requested the pleasure of 
 dancing with Miss Hollingsworth. Hart stepped 
 to one side. He did not succeed in getting a 
 chance to speak to Madge again that night, 
 although his eyes followed her everywhere. 
 
 The next afternoon he looked for her on the 
 piazza of the Country Club (she had said that 
 she was going to be there), but she did not ap- 
 pear, and at dinner that evening he heard that 
 the Hollingsworths had returned to town, and 
 that Danforth had gone back with them.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 SENIOR YEAR. 
 
 NEVER since the year of '6o-'6i had Prince- 
 ton known such political excitement. Politics 
 shared with football prospects the conversa- 
 tions on the campus. Campaign clubs had 
 been formed, and, as the students held the 
 controlling vote of the borough itself, there 
 was a reciprocity between the townsfolk and 
 the college. Hart had been elected President 
 of the organization that supported the candi- 
 date from the Middle States, and he had 
 plunged earnestly into the work. 
 
 It was growing on toward election time. 
 The college drum-corps and tin-horn bands 
 had been out every night ; and one evening the 
 news was spread about the campus that an 
 ex-senator, a man renowned for his oratory 
 was going to be present to address the students 
 and the voters of the township. The party he 
 296
 
 Senior Year. 297 
 
 represented was rather in a minority in the 
 borough, and he was to speak against the 
 platform upon which the candidate that Hart 
 supported, was standing or "running" for 
 what reason no one knows. 
 
 The evening of the meeting arrived. Hart 
 stopped at his room on his way up from his 
 Club House. He had been among the eight 
 elected the year before to the club from whose 
 walls looked down the photographs of many 
 men well known to the outside world, in pro- 
 fessional and business life, and who returned 
 to college to find in the little building among 
 the undergraduates, the welcome of fraternity. 
 Heaphy had not made the election ; his strange 
 retiring disposition had kept him in the back- 
 ground, there were a few of Hart's friends who 
 wondered at his friendship for the ' young-man- 
 with-a-purpose ' who had been so often defeated 
 in that purpose (if it were merely the gaining 
 of honors) by his own roommate. 
 
 " Going to hear the senator speak to-night?" 
 asked Hart as he opened the door and found 
 Heaphy poring over a book. 
 
 " Nope ; I 'm not feeling first-rate," Heaphy 
 replied. " I Ve caught a cold or something ;
 
 298 A Princetonian. 
 
 don't think I '11 go. Oh, by the way there 's a 
 telegram for you there on the table." 
 
 Newton picked it up. 
 
 " Hallo ! " he exclaimed, " Kenmore Hol- 
 lingsworth is going to be here to-night. He 's 
 just back from China." 
 
 Then he walked over to the mantelpiece 
 and picked up the photograph and looked for 
 a minute at the picture of Kenmore's sister. 
 Not a word had he heard of her since he had 
 left Coverley six weeks before. 
 
 A large crowd had gathered to hear the 
 orator of the evening. His speech was well- 
 worth listening to and frequently applauded., 
 A less skilful speaker might have started a 
 Donnybrook Fair about him, but so well were 
 his words chosen that there were no interrup- 
 tions despite a great deal of enthusiasm on the 
 part of the minority supporters who were out 
 in force. At last the senator concluded, and 
 no sooner had he left the platform when some 
 one on the outskirts of the crowd started a cry : 
 "We want Pop Hart " he called. It was taken 
 up from all around, and at last the shouting 
 ended in a cheer. Hart who had been listening 
 attentively to what had been going on shouted,
 
 Senior Year. 299 
 
 " No, No," in as hoarse a voice as he could 
 command ; but those about took up the other 
 cry. He felt himself impelled forward, and 
 before he knew it was almost pushed up the 
 steps. The dead silence which followed the 
 uplifting of his hand precluded the possibility 
 of his retiring without saying something, and 
 he began with a tribute to the character of the 
 honorable gentleman whom he was unexpect- 
 edly following. He spoke but for a few 
 minutes, and when he had finished, a roar 
 of voices sounded from all around. He 
 pushed his way into a gathering of his own 
 classmates at the bottom of the platform 
 steps. 
 
 " I did n't wish to get up there and spout," 
 he said, grasping Congreve by his collar, and 
 Golatly by the back of his neck. "You fel- 
 lows got me into that, and I have half a mind 
 to bump your heads together." 
 
 Some one struggling through the mob was 
 trying to reach him. It was Kenmore Hollings- 
 worth. His greeting was effusive. " You old 
 chump glad to see you," overand over. " But 
 hold on," he said at last, breathlessly, " I for- 
 got. My governor is standing back here, and
 
 30O A Princetonian. 
 
 he wants to meet you. Oh, Pop, but I wish 
 that I were back here again." 
 
 " Did you have a fine time, old man ? " New- 
 ton asked, as they pushed their way along the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 " Oh, great. I 'm going to stay down here 
 to-morrow to see the practice. The governor is 
 here on some law business for the trustees. Oh, 
 here he is." 
 
 A tall man with rather a military appearance 
 stood leaning against one of the trees. 
 
 " This is Pop Hart, Father," cried Kenmore. 
 
 " I am glad to meet Mr. Hart under such 
 auspicious circumstances," said Mr. Hollings- 
 worth with a smile. " I congratulate you upon 
 your speech, sir. I need say nothing more after 
 the way it was received. I shall be here to- 
 morrow most of the day, and I trust that I will 
 have the pleasure of seeing you again. Now, 
 Ken," he added, turning to his son, " I know 
 well enough that this is not the hour for an old 
 man like myself to ' hang about,' as you would 
 put it. So I 'm off to the hotel." 
 
 Kenmore and Hart walked over across the 
 campus. 
 
 " Yes, had a great time. How do you like
 
 Senior Year. 301 
 
 me with a mustache ? no funny remarks, now. 
 I say, let 's go over to your room, where we can 
 chat a bit ; that '11 be jolly," the former was say- 
 ing, all in one sentence. " I know you are in 
 training, so I won't talk long. You can fire me 
 out whenever you wish to. Hear you were 
 up at Coverley." 
 
 When they reached the door that opened 
 from the end of the hallway, Hart took the keys 
 from his pocket, but before he had unlocked the 
 door, the handle turned from the inside and 
 some one stepped out to meet him. 
 
 " Hullo, Doctor," Hart exclaimed, " what 's 
 the row ? " 
 
 The doctor stepped to one side. He was 
 constantly in attendance at the football 
 grounds, and was on familiar standing with 
 the players. 
 
 " Look here, Pop," he said, " how long has 
 our friend Heaphy been under the weather?" 
 
 " Two or three days. It 's nothing serious, 
 is it ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't want to alarm you," the doc- 
 tor replied, " but probably I shall, nevertheless. 
 It 's scarlet fever, to my thinking. Have you 
 been with him much yourself ? "
 
 302 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Every day," Hart answered ; " but what 
 are we to do ? " 
 
 " Clean out this entry and take care of him. 
 Or, he might be moved, if we could get a house 
 in town. That would suit the faculty better." 
 
 "You had better not come in, Ken," said 
 Newton, opening the door to the room. " I 
 may see you in the morning. Poor old Irish ! 
 Don't say anything about it." 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry for him," said Kenmore. 
 " There is n't anything I can do, is there ? " 
 
 " Don't think so. Good-night." 
 
 The doctor closed the door behind him. 
 
 " How are you feeling yourself, Pop ? " he 
 asked in a low voice. 
 
 " Oh, fair to middling ; that is, I 'm a little off 
 my feed, but I 'm all right." 
 
 " Well, you 'd better go around and see the 
 Dean," said the doctor. " Don't go inside the 
 house, but just tell him." 
 
 Hart started off at once. In half an hour he 
 returned. Heaphy was bundled into a carriage, 
 and taken to a little house down Witherspoon 
 Street, where no students were boarding, and 
 installed in an upper room. Before morning he 
 was in a raging fever and his mind was wander-
 
 Senior Year. 303 
 
 ing. In response to the doctor's suggestion 
 that his family had better be informed, Hart 
 replied that, like himself, Heaphy had no kith 
 or kin of whom he had ever made mention. 
 
 " Well, look here, you 'd better not go to the 
 practice to-morrow," said the doctor. " Just 
 keep away from people and take things easy. 
 This young man will have to have a nurse." 
 
 " Why, I 'm going to nurse him myself," Hart 
 replied. " We Ve got to keep down expenses." 
 
 The doctor looked at him curiously as he 
 held up a little thermometer to the light. 
 
 " What will they say about the football. 
 You ought not to run any risks." 
 
 " Darn the risks ! Do you think I 'm going 
 back on him ? It 's my place to look out for 
 him." 
 
 " I would n't mind about expenses, if I were 
 you," said the doctor. " I '11 telegraph for a 
 nurse, and be around first thing in the morn- 
 ing. Take care of yourself. Good-night." 
 
 Hart sat down in the rocking-chair by the lamp 
 that was turned low on the table. Heaphy was 
 muttering a little, and tossing uneasily on the 
 bed in an inner room. Suddenly the bell 
 down-stairs in the hall jingled. The caller was
 
 304 A Princetonian. 
 
 no less a person than a member of the faculty 
 high in authority the dear old chap who never 
 conditioned any one in his life. 
 
 " Mr. Hart," he said, in his quiet, lecture 
 manner, " you need not to worry. Mr. Heaphy 
 will be looked after and taken care of in the 
 best way possible. But," he added, " I would 
 not attend recitations, if I were you, for a 
 few days, and I would keep away from the 
 campus. We don't wish to frighten people, 
 and I really don't know how much trouble we 
 may have already on foot for us. Too bad the 
 infirmary is not built, but rest assured that 
 everything will be done for your friend." 
 
 With that he bade good-night, and Hart 
 returned to his lonely watching.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IN TOWN. 
 
 " DID you ever hear of such luck in your 
 life?" exclaimed Kenmore Hollingsworth at 
 the breakfast-table, as he seated himself and 
 threw a letter down beside his plate. " Just 
 got news from Simmy Congreve, at Princeton, 
 that Pop Hart has come down with scarlet- 
 fever. You know I told you all about that 
 evening there last week. His room-mate is 
 pretty bad too." 
 
 " Whew ! that is bad news," said Mr. Hol- 
 lingsworth, looking up from the paper. " Is 
 he dangerously ill ? " 
 
 " I hope not," put in Mrs. Hollingsworth. 
 " But come, Kenmore, it won't do any good 
 to go on like that ; sit down and eat your 
 breakfast." 
 
 Kenmore had jumped up and walked over 
 to the window. 
 
 305
 
 306 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Don't you think we could do something 
 for him? " he said, turning. 
 
 " I 'm sure I don't know what we could do. 
 They will probably look out for them down 
 there." 
 
 " Probably his family will come to him," said 
 Mr. Hollingsworth. " Ah, here it is in the 
 paper: 'The Princeton Football Captain out 
 of the Game,' quite an account." 
 
 " He has n't any family, and not a penny in 
 the world, at least Mrs. Trevellian told me," 
 said Mrs. Hollingsworth. 
 
 " Well, that does n't make any matter,' an- 
 swered her son," and it does n't count at 
 college either. Congreve says that everyone 
 is all broken up over it." 
 
 As he spoke thus Madge had appeared at 
 the doorway. 
 
 " Why this tableau ? " she asked, with a little 
 laugh. " It looks as if Ken had been sent 
 to the corner. Please don't say anything to 
 me for being late. Why, what 's the matter ? " 
 
 " Pop Hart has got the scarlet-fever," said 
 Kenmore. 
 
 If he had looked closely at his sister he 
 would have noticed her face grow a shade
 
 In Town. 307 
 
 paler, and her eyes close a little. She sat down 
 very quickly. 
 
 " Is he dangerously ill ? " she asked with an 
 effort. 
 
 " There 's Congreve's letter," Kenmore an- 
 swered, extending the epistle across the table. 
 Madge picked it up ; it was with difficulty she 
 could see the writing. She read the first line 
 over and over, ' Dear old Pop Hart is ill with 
 scarlet-fever. Came on yesterday afternoon. 
 He had insisted on nursing Heaphy, confound 
 him, and now he 's got it.' " Here she stopped. 
 
 " There 's no use reading all that, Madge," 
 said Mrs. Hollingsworth, looking curiously at 
 her daughter. " Mr. Hart seemed to be a very 
 nice young man ; but you had better eat your 
 breakfast, if you are going out riding." 
 
 Madge put down the letter, and commenced 
 to pick at a bunch of grapes. 
 
 " I don't think I '11 go out riding to-day, 
 Mamma," she said quite calmly. 
 
 Then she suddenly arose. Kenmore had 
 seated himself again and Mr. Hollingsworth 
 looked from him to his daughter. 
 
 " Why, you have n't eaten anything at all, 
 Madge," he said.
 
 308 A Princetonian. 
 
 She turned at the door. 
 
 " I really don't feel a bit hungry," she an- 
 swered, smiling. 
 
 For a minute after she left no one said a 
 word. Mr. Hollingsworth spoke first. 
 
 " The theatre supper was too much for her 
 last night, three in a week ! " he remarked, 
 rising. " The way young people go on now-a- 
 days ! " 
 
 With that he left the room. Kenmore and 
 his mother sat looking at one another. As 
 long as the servant was in the room they said 
 nothing, but when the sedate Hawkins had dis- 
 appeared Mrs. Hollingsworth leaned towards 
 her son. 
 
 " Had you ever suspected anything like 
 that ? " she asked. 
 
 " Like what ? " replied Kenmore evasively 
 and absently. 
 
 " Don't be stupid, Kenmore. Madge is a 
 very impressionable girl, and if your friend Mr. 
 Hart has presumed upon some people taking 
 him up " 
 
 Kenmore interrupted her. " See here, 
 Mother," he said, " you know Madge is not 
 impressionable, and I can vouch for this, that
 
 In Town. 309 
 
 my friend Hart, as you call him, would presume 
 upon nothing." 
 
 " Well, I did n't gather that, at all, from what 
 Mrs. Trevellian told me this summer. But you 
 know it would never do in the world, and is 
 not to be thought of ; the idea of a man like 
 that " 
 
 " I am not going to talk about it," inter- 
 rupted Kenmore leaving the table. " In the 
 first place you may be mistaken, and what 's 
 the good " 
 
 " You 're right ; it is n't worth discussing," 
 said Mrs. Hollingsworth as she arose and fol- 
 lowed him out of the room. 
 
 When Madge had left the table she hastened 
 up-stairs to the little front room she called her 
 study ; she passed quickly through it to her 
 bedroom and closed the door behind her. She 
 did not understand her feelings but she simply 
 kneeled down beside the bed and, with her 
 hands clasped before her, she prayed silently 
 that Hart's life might be spared. Before she 
 had risen two large tears had welled from her 
 eyes. Just then she heard her mother's 
 voice calling her from the hall. Jumping to 
 her feet she wiped her cheeks, and calmly
 
 310 A Princetonian. 
 
 and collectedly she met her mother at the 
 door. 
 
 Before Mrs. Hollingsworth had said a word 
 Madge spoke. 
 
 " I think I will go out riding after all, Mamma 
 dear. It 's too fine a day to miss," she said. 
 
 Mrs. Hollingsworth looked at her rather in 
 astonishment. She expected to find her in a 
 very different mood. She was completely dis- 
 armed and did not know what to say. Perhaps 
 she had been hasty in speaking as she had to 
 Kenmore, so she merely said : 
 
 " All right, my dear," and turned away. 
 
 When they had reached a bend in the bridle- 
 path, Raymond Danforth half turned in the 
 saddle as the horses slowed down to a walk. 
 For years he had been so well known to the 
 Hollingsworth family that the young people 
 called one another by their first names. 
 
 "You are especially silent this morning, 
 Madge," he said, " so you '11 pardon me if I do 
 more than usual of the talking." 
 
 " On the same subject, of course ? " she ques- 
 tioned, looking straight between her horse's
 
 In Town. 311 
 
 "Yes, on the same subject," he replied unre- 
 buffed, " that is, myself. You must n't blame 
 me if I think it is interesting." 
 
 " I have never intimated that you were un- 
 interesting," said Miss Hollingsworth, " but 
 why not another subject, for a change ? " 
 
 " You know your influence over me," went 
 on Danforth. " I Ve given up lots of things " 
 
 " Things that did n't do you any good ; you 
 must acknowledge that," spoke up Madge, 
 wrinkling her brows. 
 
 " Granted, but if you gave me only some 
 hope, I might accomplish a great deal in life, 
 and without it, I fear I shall do nothing. I Ve 
 told you that before, time and again. But now, 
 if you wish, let 's change the subject. Did you 
 hear of Hart, the Princeton football man's ill- 
 ness ? " 
 
 His eyes were searching her face. 
 
 " Yes," Madge answered ; " Kenmore told us 
 this morning at breakfast." 
 
 She knew that he was looking at her, and she 
 spoke calmly. 
 
 " Despite his training and all that, I fear it 
 will go hard with him," sighed Danforth, with 
 an assumption of some feeling. " He used to
 
 312 A Princetonian. 
 
 spree it a good bit on the sly. I dare say he 
 does now, you know." 
 
 " Really, do you know that ? " 
 
 " Well, in the days when I used to do a good 
 bit of it myself, he ran more than even with me. 
 But I really had to give him up could n't 
 stand the pace." 
 
 " Indeed," said Miss Hollingsworth. 
 
 She chirruped to her horse. Danforth dug 
 his with his spur and they broke forward into a 
 gallop.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 CONVALESCENT. 
 
 EVERY day bulletins were posted, telling how 
 the two sick men were getting on, and the news 
 that the captain of the football team was very 
 low indeed had caused a gloom over the whole 
 college. The men at the 'Varsity grounds 
 played in a listless, half-hearted way. No one 
 sang the old song that began " We are going to 
 win the championship." From freshman to 
 senior, every one who passed by the little house, 
 that had been turned for the nonce into a hos- 
 pital, looked toward it as if hoping for the best. 
 Heaphy was much better pronounced out of 
 danger, but Hart's condition was very des- 
 perate. But three days after election day when 
 the news of the victory of the candidate from 
 the Middle States had been well assured, young 
 Professor Ransom met the doctor on the street. 
 The physician had lost a great deal of his 
 worried look. 
 
 313
 
 314 A Princetonian. 
 
 " He 's much better to-day," he replied to the 
 professor's inquiry. " Last night when I was 
 there he had a ray of consciousness, and asked 
 what day it was. I told him, and then he in- 
 quired about the election, and who won, and I 
 told him that. He nodded his head and said, 
 ' Good.' But see here, Professor, you know 
 how a man betrays his secrets in delirium ; he 's 
 got some girl on his mind." 
 
 " Well, most young men have," returned the 
 professor. " Or ought to have, properly speak- 
 ing." 
 
 " He kept mentioning but one name for 
 some time; let 's see what is it, the name of 
 ' Madge.' Is he engaged to be married, do you 
 know?" 
 
 The professor paused. 
 
 " Seems to me I heard something about it a 
 long time ago in his freshman year," he said 
 slowly. " The Lord grant he pulls through. I 
 hope he won't begin to worry about football." 
 
 " Nor his studies," interrupted the doctor. 
 
 " Never mind about that." 
 
 Congreve and Jimmie James happened to 
 pass at this moment. Seeing who the two 
 figures were, they stopped.
 
 Convalescent. 315 
 
 " How is he, Doctor? " inquired Congreve in 
 a low tone, saluting Professor Ransom. 
 
 " Much better ; glad to say." 
 
 Congreve hit James a thump between the 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Bully ! " he said, and they went off to 
 spread the news. 
 
 The professor returned to his study, and 
 picking up a pen he commenced to write to 
 Mrs. Carter in New York. Incidentally he 
 happened to mention, in connection with the 
 tidings, the name that Hart had repeated so 
 often not knowing that any one would hear it ; 
 and the mention of this name made the dear 
 little woman think. 
 
 Two weeks after this Newton sat up in bed, 
 at least he was helped into a sitting position by 
 the doctor and the nurse. It would have been 
 hard at first to recognize him. The beard on 
 his face made him look years older, and his big- 
 boned arms, sprawled over the counterpane, 
 were almost pathetic to look at ; but his 
 eyes were bright and his voice was fairly 
 strong. 
 
 " Do you want to look at yourself, Mr.
 
 3 1 6 A Princetonian. 
 
 Hart ? " asked the nurse. " There 's a mirror 
 here." 
 
 " Would n't look at myself for a farm," New- 
 ton answered. " Bring in the other fellow ; let 
 me look at him." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Heaphy," the kindly-faced woman 
 called into the next room. 
 
 In answer Patrick Corse Heaphy tottered 
 through the doorway. He sank down into a 
 rocking-chair, and the nurse looked from one to 
 another in amusement. 
 
 " Well, you 're the funniest looking thing I 
 ever saw in my life," said Hart, forcing a smile. 
 " I suppose I '11 begin to peel in spots like that 
 myself. Irish, you and I had better let ourselves 
 out to a side-show somewhere." 
 
 But Heaphy replied nothing. He leaned for- 
 ward, and took Hart's thin fingers in his own. 
 Then he leaned his forehead on the clasped 
 hands and burst into tears. The nurse looked 
 down at the two young men, and then dis- 
 creetly left the room. Hart raised his other 
 hand and placed it on Heaphy 's head, from 
 which the shock of hair had almost disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Look here ; never mind, old boy," he said-
 
 Convalescent. 317 
 
 " We Ve pulled out all right. There 's lots to 
 do now. We '11 rustle along together." 
 
 Heaphy raised his head. " That 's what we '11 
 do," he said ; and his words meant more than 
 Hart knew. 
 
 There was a smell of fumigation in the room, 
 for the next apartment had been well smoked 
 out. The bell down-stairs rang. Another 
 young woman in a nurse's cap went to the 
 door. 
 
 " No, you could n't see him to-day," she said. 
 " You '11 have to wait until to-morrow." 
 
 " Hallo," said Hart. " So there are two of 
 you ladies, after all. I was n't sure." 
 
 " There are a whole raft of young gentle- 
 men," the first nurse responded, " down at the 
 door. They 're fit to tear the house down to 
 see you, sir." She spoke with a strong English 
 accent. 
 
 " I tell you what we could do, Miss Watson," 
 answered the other nurse, who had entered like 
 a very attractive ghost at least, in regard to 
 silence " just give this bed a push and he 
 could look out of the window." 
 
 It was no sooner said than done. It was true 
 that those below hardly recognized the face
 
 318 A Princetonian. 
 
 they saw, but three times three were given for 
 Pop Hart. Then, as if not quite an after- 
 thought, a rousing cheer was given for " Irish." 
 Heaphy, leaning over Hart's shoulder, almost 
 blushed. 
 
 " Two pretty looking scarecrows," said Go- 
 latly to L. Putney Betts, as the party walked 
 up the street. " Now let the committee get 
 together and stampede to the doctor." 
 
 He turned at the corner, and followed by 
 Congreve, Betts, and three of the others, he en- 
 tered the front yard of the little brown house 
 that stood back among the bushes. They rang 
 the bell. The doctor himself opened the door. 
 
 " Come in, come in," he said. " What 's the 
 rumpus ? " 
 
 " Doctor," said Golatly, who was spokesman 
 of the party, " we 're a committee from the 
 senior class, and represent the class in what we 
 say. We want the bill for all your services and 
 the nurses and the whole business sent to us." 
 
 The doctor smiled about that. 
 
 " You need n't worry about that ; the bill 's 
 paid now," said the doctor. 
 
 " The Faculty ? " gasped Congreve in aston- 
 ishment.
 
 Convalescent. 3 1 9 
 
 " No," replied the doctor. " It 's another 
 dignified person, I should say corporation." 
 
 Now, without stretching the truth at all, the 
 doctor knew more about Patrick Corse Heaphy 
 than any one in college, even including Hart. 
 The corporation he referred to was the Knick- 
 erbocker Trust Co. 
 
 " Who could it have been ? " questioned 
 Charlie Townes. " Let me think." 
 
 " Don't think, Charlie, or you '11 strain your 
 mind," said Golatly. 
 
 " Let 's drop in at Adam's and drink Pop's 
 health. My, but he was a skinny looking thing 
 in that beard," laughed Golatly. 
 
 "Well, he was n't anything to Irish," put in 
 Betts. " I don't think any girl would vote him 
 a kissable object." 
 
 " Never mind, Irish has got the right stuff 
 in him," said the first-base man. 
 
 "Which is the truthful truth from truthful 
 James," said Golatly, as they turned into the 
 dingy little alley. 
 
 When the sound of the footsteps on the side- 
 walk had disappeared, Hart looked around and 
 found that the nurses and Heaphy had gone. 
 He was alone. A strange languor was upon
 
 320 A Princetonian. 
 
 him ; a languor of the limbs that appeared to 
 lend an extra activity to the senses. It ap- 
 peared to him that he could hear the footsteps 
 of the fly walking across the counterpane ; and 
 the chirping of a flock of sparrows in the leaf- 
 less trees outside of the window seemed to be 
 immediately above his head. Shortly before 
 the doctor's last call he had awakened from a 
 delightful dream. He had dreamed that Madge 
 had stood there beside him ; he could feel the 
 touch of her cool hand upon his forehead. He 
 remembered how reverently, and yet with what 
 love, he had lifted her fingers to his lips. Ah, 
 the tricks that the fever plays ! How his heart 
 had swelled to bursting as she had supported his 
 head in the hollow of her round white arm. 
 As he thought over this recollection, he had 
 closed his eyes, and rolled his face slowly over 
 toward the light. There, on the little table with 
 nothing on it but a few bottles, was a photo- 
 graph leaning against the wall. It was the one 
 that had Madge's picture in the centre. Poor 
 Pop did not know that he had asked for it so 
 often, or that Heaphy had guessed his secret 
 long ago. He stretched out his hand to reach it 
 but it was too far away.
 
 Convalescent, 321 
 
 The capped head of the little English nurse 
 appeared about the corner of the doorway, for 
 Hart had jingled some of the vials on the table. 
 She knew what he was after, and entering the 
 room, she pushed the table closer, and, smooth- 
 ing back his hair, she gave him a little stroke on 
 the arm. 
 
 " You 're a dear good patient," she said. 
 Then she hurried out. 
 
 Hart picked up the photograph. 
 
 No, she would never know it. What right 
 did he have to tell her. Yet, he would go on- 
 ward straight for the best, because he felt with 
 her great sympathy he could not but advance. 
 
 21
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A HOUSE-PARTY. 
 
 MARY BLISS sat at her little desk, scratching 
 busily away with a very large stub pen. She 
 underlined the last few words on the page, 
 blotted them carefully, and then directed the 
 envelope to Miss Madge Hollingsworth at her 
 address on lower Fifth Avenue. The words 
 she had underlined were, " Don t fail to come! " 
 As she sealed the letter, the maid appeared at 
 the door. 
 
 " Mr. Elliott is down-stairs Miss." 
 
 Mary jumped up, and ran out into the hall. 
 
 " Oh, Tad," she called. 
 
 " Hullo, " answered a voice. 
 
 " Be right down in a minute," called Mary. 
 " I 've got something to tell you." 
 
 " That 's nothing unusual," was the answer. 
 " I 'm in a receptive mood." The young man 
 standing at the bottom of the stairs blew a kiss 
 322
 
 A House- Party. 323 
 
 from the tip of his fingers. The kiss was re- 
 turned over the railing, and then Mary tripped 
 down to meet him. It was only two weeks 
 now since the engagement of Mr. Thadeus 
 Elliott and Miss Mary Bliss had been an- 
 nounced, and they were living that exhilarating 
 existence when they hardly seemed to walk on 
 earth, and honestly wondered if two people 
 were ever before so happy as they were. 
 
 " Well, what is it you have to tell me ? " asked 
 Tad, as he helped Mary into her little fur- 
 trimmed coat, and took a very deliberate 
 advantage of her helpless situation. 
 
 " Only this, Newton Hart is going to spend 
 the Christmas vacation with us, and two or 
 three other people are coming. I wish the 
 house were twice as big ; but it 's a kind of sur- 
 prise party I 'm getting up. Everyone thinks 
 he is the only one invited." 
 
 " Any girls coming ? " asked Tad as they 
 stepped out into the crisp December air. 
 
 " Madge Hollingsworth for one, at least I 
 think she '11 come." 
 
 " Then of course you '11 have to ask Ray- 
 mond Danforth, to even things up*, eh ? " 
 
 " No," responded Mary firmly, as she stopped
 
 324 A Princetonian. 
 
 at the corner and slipped a letter into the mail- 
 box. " That 's exactly what I have n't done." 
 
 "Oh, you little marplot," said Elliott. 
 " You 're up to some trick or other. You 
 looked real vicious for an instant, what 's the 
 row ? " 
 
 "Never mind what it is," laughed Mary. 
 " Come on, let 's walk real fast." 
 
 " Here, jump into the back seat, old fellow ; 
 in with your bags ! " cried Ned after he had 
 greeted Hart on the platform station. 
 
 He helped him into a great old-fashioned 
 sleigh, one of the semi-reclining kind, with low 
 backs and easy seats. The Bliss's coachman, 
 (who had grown a beard for the winter, and 
 looked very comfortable in a seal-skin cap), 
 spoke to the long-tailed horses, the bells jingled 
 and they were off. 
 
 "Is n't this a day for sleighing, though ! " 
 exclaimed Ned looking about. " Now, I '11 tell 
 you something, old man ; say ! you 're looking 
 much better." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm better every minute," Hart an- 
 swered, " but I am not very strong yet. I 'm 
 a little shaky in the legs."
 
 A House- Party. 325 
 
 His face was very thin, but his color was good, 
 and Ned had noticed that he held himself as 
 straight as usual when he stood on the station 
 platform. 
 
 " Now, when we get to the house," Ned went 
 on, continuing to explain an idea he had in his 
 mind, " Thomas and I are going to get out, 
 and my brother-in-law-that-is-to-be, old Tad, is 
 going to take you and the two girls for a drive. 
 Don't pay any attention if he gets absent- 
 minded and loses the way ; you could not up- 
 set this old tub to save your life." 
 
 " Who is the other girl ? " asked Hart. 
 
 " Miss, er what-'s-her-name." Ned frowned 
 a little as if cudgelling his memory. " Hello, 
 here we are at the house. I '11 take the bags in 
 and you sit here." 
 
 Hart sat back in the furs, thinking. 
 
 He was thinking of something that had been 
 told him but an hour before in the train. It 
 came about thus : Going into the smoking-car, 
 he had met Sharkey Sprague, and had sat down 
 beside him ; naturally the conversation had 
 turned to Danforth before long, although it 
 might be hard to say who started it. " Oh, 
 he 's trying to play quiet now," Sprague had
 
 326 A Princetonian. 
 
 said with a laugh. " He 's going to get 
 married ; that 's the matter." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that he is engaged to 
 Ken's sister?" Newton asked quietly. 
 
 Now, Sprague was one of those liars who 
 could never resist an opportunity to put his 
 pastime into practice. He liked to appear to 
 know things. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " but, er look here, don't 
 say anything about it, you know." 
 
 "Did he tell you so himself?" Hart had 
 asked again. 
 
 "Yes," Sprague responded brazenly; "but 
 not a word to a soul. It 's on the q. t., you 
 know." 
 
 " I shall never say a word to anyone about 
 it," Hart had answered ; then he arose and left 
 the smoking-car. 
 
 This was what he was thinking of when a call 
 from the house aroused him. It may also have 
 been a good excuse for the start he gave when 
 he saw that Tad and Miss Bliss were accompa- 
 nied by no one else than Madge Hollingsworth 
 as they came down the ash-sprinkled walk. 
 Hart jumped out of the sleigh. Miss Bliss got 
 in the front seat and Ned picked up the reins 
 and pulled the robe around him.
 
 A House- Party. 327 
 
 With a hand that fairly trembled Hart helped 
 Madge in and settled himself beside her. 
 
 " It 's awfully nice to see you here," she said, 
 turning to him. " I did n't know that you 
 were coming at all." 
 
 " And I did n't know that you were going to 
 be here, either," Newton answered, wondering 
 why in the world Ned should have forgotten 
 her name. 
 
 " We were all so sorry to hear of your illness," 
 went on Miss Hollingsworth. " Was n't it too 
 bad about the football. It would have made a 
 good deal of difference if you had played." 
 
 " What makes you say that ? " 
 
 " Oh, because I know it would. But you 
 must have been well taken care of, you look so 
 well now." 
 
 " Indeed, I was well taken care of," Hart re- 
 sponded. " Both Heaphy and I." 
 
 " I should like to know Mr. Heaphy," said 
 Madge. 
 
 " I wish you did," Newton replied. " He is 
 the most trustworthy man I know." 
 
 " What a fine thing it is," said the girl, " to 
 find someone in whom you can absolutely trust. 
 Someone you can believe in through everything 
 no matter what."
 
 328 A Princetonian. 
 
 " I have been fortunate in finding many true 
 friends, Miss Hollingsworth. It makes life 
 very grand to me. I think the strong influences 
 of a man's life often come from the outside." 
 
 " And a woman's also," Madge replied 
 thoughtfully, " from unexpected sources." 
 
 " Then, true again as to men," Newton re- 
 plied, " I think that they are influenced by 
 people who never suspect the power that they 
 have." 
 
 " Do you think that a woman ever touches a 
 man in that way, or does it simply come from 
 the effect of a more powerful reason ? " 
 
 " Well, if you ask me," Newton replied in a 
 low voice, " I should say that the influence of a 
 fine woman on a man would be the greatest 
 thing in his life." 
 
 A pause followed and he glanced down at 
 her. Oh, how beautiful she was, with the 
 color in her cheeks, and that wonderful mouth 
 and noble chin, and how calmly the thoughtful 
 gray eyes looked out from beneath the heavy 
 lashes. The tumult that stirred within him, 
 was increased almost into agony by her next 
 words. 
 
 " I don't know why I 'm asking what I do,"
 
 A House- Party. 329 
 
 Madge said slowly. " Have you ever been 
 stirred in that way by any woman ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I have," was the reply, and his 
 voice trembled as he spoke. " God knows I 
 have," he repeated. 
 
 Miss Hollingsworth did not look at him. 
 Her eyes still gazed far off. Hart had to lean 
 to catch her words. 
 
 "Is she alive ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " and, thank God, happy." 
 
 A longer pause followed. Oh, the wild temp- 
 tation that seized him, then and there to turn 
 to her and say, " you are the one, forgive me, 
 forgive me ! Can you not see it ? " But what 
 right would he have to do a thing like this. 
 A man with nothing but the future before him ; 
 a future that might hold promise, but with 
 nothing in the past that he had garnered to 
 offer a woman, except a desire to work for her. 
 
 " What 's the matter with you two in the 
 back seat ? " asked Elliott, suddenly turning 
 around. He did not heed Mary's little warn- 
 ing nudge. " I did n't know but that Pop had 
 exercised an invalid's privilege and gone to 
 sleep. Is she looking out for you, old man ? " 
 
 Madge came to the rescue. "Look here,
 
 330 A Princetonian. 
 
 Mr. Elliott," she said laughing, "you took the 
 wrong road at the corner; this one ends at the 
 top of the hill." 
 
 " Well, we can turn around. It 's getting so 
 dark, I think we had better turn toward home 
 any how." 
 
 On the way back through the hills of the park 
 Newton found occasion to tuck in the robe 
 about Madge's feet ; he could not reason why 
 this little action should have given him such a 
 great sensation. But they were very silent, and 
 Tad, who was driving with one hand the other 
 was calmly reposing with both of Mary's inside 
 her muff did not again indulge in interrup- 
 tions. 
 
 That night, as Mary kissed Madge, she 
 looked up at her. " Have n't you got anything 
 to tell me? " she asked. 
 
 " No, why?" 
 
 " Not one little thing ? " 
 
 " No, not one little thing." 
 
 Nevertheless, Mary thought she detected a 
 quiver of the lips. 
 
 Ned and his mother sat up after the rest had 
 gone to bed. 
 
 " I know it 's very true, mother, what you say
 
 A House- Party. 331 
 
 about a man's having to have some of this world's 
 goods before thinking of matrimony. Now 
 please ! it 's not my idea about Pop and Miss 
 Hollingsworth ; it 's Mary's. He never speaks 
 about himself; but, nevertheless, I think old 
 Pop has some money, for either he or Heaphy 
 paid the expenses of the hospital at Princeton, 
 and I doubt if poor old Irish has more than 
 enough to buy his lead pencils." 
 
 " Well," replied Mrs. Bliss, who possessed 
 some worldly wisdom in spite of her kind heart 
 and ready sympathy, " you had better let things 
 take their course, and not have anything to do 
 with it." 
 
 " I 'm sure I have n't had anything to do with 
 it," laughed Ned. " It 's all Mary." 
 
 " Well, Mary is n't the one to judge of such 
 matters at present," said Mrs. Bliss. " I think 
 her mind is prejudiced entirely. Dear me, I 
 remember how it was myself." 
 
 Ned kissed his mother on the forehead and 
 went off to bed. His room was next to Hart's, 
 and he looked in through the door. 
 
 " Hello," Newton called to him. 
 
 " What, not asleep yet ? " Ned exclaimed. 
 
 " No, not yet ; good-night."
 
 332 A Princetonian. 
 
 Ned shut the door. 
 
 Madge's little visit had only been for the day, 
 and she was leaving on the train the next morn- 
 ing She was rather quiet at breakfast, and after 
 they had climbed out of the sleigh, Ned ran off 
 to look after her luggage, while Newton and 
 she found themselves standing alone. 
 
 " You 're not offended at me, Miss Hollings- 
 worth ? " he asked. 
 
 " Why, offended ? What could you have 
 done that would have offended me ? " 
 
 " I did not know," Newton responded, " but 
 that I might have said too much." 
 
 The train came roaring to the station at this 
 minute and Ned quite breathless ran up with 
 the checks. The good-byes were soon over. 
 
 When she had seated herself by the window 
 she did not open the magazine that lay in her 
 lap. She was going over her conversation in 
 the sleigh with Newton, and she began to 
 wonder what the other girl was like.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PATRICK EXPLAINS. 
 
 NEWTON and Heaphy sat opposite one 
 another with the drop-light burning between 
 them ; a huge reference book was spread out on 
 a chair and Hart was turning to it from time to 
 time. Suddenly he closed it with an amount 
 of noise that must have been made purposely. 
 Heaphy looked up with a grin. 
 
 " Finis, eh ? " he said. 
 
 " No," Hart answered, " I did that to attract 
 your attention. Take off that green shade 
 and look me in the eye." Heaphy did so. 
 " Look here," Newton went on, pointing his 
 finger, " I want you to tell me honestly who 
 it was you borrowed that money from to pay 
 the doctor and our running expenses over there 
 at that house ? " 
 
 Heaphy fidgeted. Then he rose and began 
 to walk up and down the room. 
 333
 
 334 A Princetonian. 
 
 " I did n't borrow it at all," he said slowly. 
 "Now, just listen and I '11 tell you something. 
 Every word of it is true." Then he stopped 
 and began again, as if he were telling a made- 
 up story to amuse his hearer. " Once upon a 
 time," he commenced, and then he went on to 
 the very end. He told about his father's early 
 poverty, his success in life, and his own present 
 situation. He stated his present wealth so 
 simply and frankly that Hart repressed an 
 exclamation, and sat there speechless. At last 
 he found his tongue. 
 
 " Why did you tell me this now after keep- 
 ing silent all this time?" 
 
 " It will make no difference, will it ? " 
 Heaphy questioned anxiously. 
 
 " Not the least in the world." 
 
 " I was sure of that, but it might have before, 
 you know." 
 
 " It might to some people," Hart answered. 
 " But you and I understand each other pretty 
 well now, Irish, don't we? " 
 
 " Yes, we do, but you 're keeping something 
 from me nevertheless." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 Heaphy walked over to the mantelpiece and
 
 Patrick Explains. 335 
 
 picked up the photograph. " How about this 
 picture ? " he said, " and the girl " 
 
 Newton arose and placed both hands on his 
 room-mate's shoulders. "That, old man is 
 something we cannot discuss," he said. 
 
 Heaphy replaced the picture, and sitting 
 down at the desk, drew the green shade over 
 his eyes. Newton opened the reference book 
 without a sound. But, in a few minutes he arose. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " Heaphy asked. 
 
 " I 'm going over to see Professor Ransom," 
 Hart answered. 
 
 " Be back in a little while, old boy. Then 
 we '11 go out and see what the fellows are do- 
 ing, and get some air before going to bed." 
 
 Newton knocked at the Professor's door. 
 " Come in," said someone. It was not the 
 Professor's voice, but that of one of the other 
 young members of the Faculty, who pushed 
 himself out of the easy-chair before the fire as 
 Hart entered. 
 
 " Hallo," he said, " looking for Ransom ? 
 He 's gone down to New York, to see a friend 
 of yours, I believe, Mrs. Archie Carter. Sit 
 down and have a cigar, won't you ? How are 
 things going?"
 
 336 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Oh, first-rate ; sorry I can't stop. When 
 will Professor Ransom be back ? " 
 
 " Some time to-morrow. Won't you stop ? " 
 
 " No, thanks ; just wanted to see him on 
 business." 
 
 The Professor waved a familiar farewell with 
 his hand and Newton left the room. 
 
 At the very moment that Hart had made his 
 call upon the Professor, the latter was seated in 
 the drawing-room of Mrs. Carter's house that 
 fronted one of the few old squares in the 
 middle portion of the city, a square that was 
 surrounded by dwellings of the older aristoc- 
 racy ; it was not a plebeian meeting-place nor a 
 lounging-ground for tramps. Of a truth, it 
 was exceedingly exclusive ; all of the dwellers 
 on the square possessed keys that opened the 
 great iron gates, and admitted them inside the 
 tall railings; the houses themselves, though 
 small, were dignified. 
 
 " I '11 tell you what I 'm going to do next 
 week," said Mrs. Carter, looking out of the 
 window. " I 'm going to give a dinner to 
 some young people, and have some nice boys 
 down from college. We '11 go to the play
 
 Patrick Explains. 337 
 
 afterwards. You '11 come, won't you, and Pop 
 Hart ? " 
 
 The Professor smiled at Mrs. Carter's casual 
 usage of the nick-name. 
 
 " And young Betts, or Congreve, we '11 ask 
 one of them," Mrs. Carter went on. " Want 
 you to promise me one thing." 
 
 " What 's that ? " said the Professor. 
 
 " Bring Mr. Hart with you. He declined a 
 former invitation of mine, and I 'm mad with 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, he '11 come ; I '11 wager that," returned 
 Professor Ransom, smiling. " He and I are 
 great chums, you know. But you should 
 meet that chap Heaphy ; there 's a puzzle for 
 you." 
 
 " I '11 write and ask Mr. Hart to bring him 
 too," said Mrs. Carter. 
 
 Just then someone got up to go, and the 
 Professor stepped across the room to speak to 
 Mary Bliss. 
 
 " I don't know why leaving is so catching," 
 he said, " but I know this, that I 've got to run 
 myself, and did n't wish to make the first 
 move." 
 
 " Well, I need n't hasten," Mary answered
 
 338 A Princetonian. 
 
 with a smile, " because I 'm stopping here for 
 the night." 
 
 "Well, then," was the answer, "I '11 be go- 
 ing." He hastily looked at his watch and went 
 out into the hall. 
 
 " Now, Puss," said Mrs. Carter as the last 
 guest departed, and the door of the coup 
 slammed below, " let 's go up-stairs, have a 
 talk, and incidentally let our hair down." 
 
 She gave the order to the butler to put 
 out the lights, and then, hand-in-hand, Mary 
 and her hostess ascended the staircase. 
 
 " Well, I 'm sure that I was n't mistaken 
 about him," Mrs. Carter observed, throwing 
 herself back upon the lounge. " I know a lot 
 about men, and, mark my words, Newton 
 what-'s-his-name Hart, bless him because I like 
 him, is in love with that girl, and, if he has n't 
 any money, he '11 earn it ; and she 's got enough 
 to get on with for herself." 
 
 " Perhaps he 's spoken to her," ventured 
 Mary, " and she " 
 
 " Has turned him down, as the boys say. 
 I don't believe it. And there is something 
 that makes that girl unhappy, whatever it 
 is."
 
 Patrick Explains. 339 
 
 " Perhaps Ray Danforth," again ventured 
 Miss Bliss. 
 
 "Horrid little snip; you don't like him, do 
 you ? " exclaimed Mrs. Carter. 
 
 " I think he has a chance, though," said Miss 
 Bliss. " He 's so persistent. I fairly believe 
 Tad wore me out telling him I did n't love him, 
 until " 
 
 "Until?" 
 
 " Until I did, that 's all." 
 
 Mrs. Carter smiled. " I tell you, here 's 
 what we '11 do. I '11 ask all three of them to 
 dinner the same night. It won't take long to 
 find out. I don't care who he is, or what he 
 has n't got ; I 'm going to try to help him to 
 get that girl." Then she made this comment 
 beneath her breath, " I 'd just like to hear what 
 Bertha Trevellian would say to that." Smil- 
 ing, she turned and looked over her shoulder at 
 Mary. " Now run off to bed," she said, " your 
 maid has been waiting for you for half an hour." 
 
 But Mary lingered. 
 
 " I suppose the chief objection that the 
 Hollingsworths would have to anything of that 
 kind would be his lack of what is termed ' so- 
 cial position.' "
 
 340 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Oh, that 's all in the gaining," responded 
 Mrs. Carter. " Mr. Hollingsworth himself came 
 from a farm somewhere in Massachussetts, and 
 as for Mrs. H., her father made very good bak- 
 ing-powder. It all makes me very tired. Now, 
 come, run to bed." 
 
 As she said this Mrs. Carter pulled out a 
 number of hair-pins and laid them with a clat- 
 ter on a silver tray. A wealth of black hair 
 poured over her shoulders, as she leaned over 
 and kissed Mary good-night. 
 
 The latter gave a little laugh and went off to 
 her room. But Mrs. Carter stood looking after 
 her for an instant ; then she turned and sighed 
 a little pathetic sigh with a smile in it. She 
 had longed to have a daughter of her own, and 
 happy the girl would have been had she had 
 her for a mother. Although some people had 
 said that she treated her boys from their early 
 youths, as if they were exceedingly good jokes, 
 they themselves could not have imagined any 
 deeper love or affection than they had received 
 from their " Mumsy," as they had called her 
 from babyhood. 
 
 Mrs. Carter had adored her good-looking 
 husband during his life-time, and when after his
 
 Patrick Explains. 341 
 
 death, she discovered irrefutable evidence that 
 other women had loved him also, she had passed 
 it over without bitterness on the ground that, 
 of course, they could not help it, poor things ; 
 and she had gone on adoring his memory just 
 the same, even if her grief had been tempered 
 a little by her discovery. She had not changed 
 to a pessimist in the least, but believed fully 
 in human goodness, and her ability to detect 
 worth. Her sense of humor made her a deadly 
 foe to snobbery and affectation. And she had 
 practically put this test to herself. 
 
 If she had a daughter, she would have been 
 glad enough to have welcomed her son's tutor 
 for a son-in-law, and what was good enough 
 for her daughter, should have been good enough 
 for anyone else. 
 
 Hart would have been surprised if he had 
 known how widely his guarded secret was sus- 
 pected, and what allies he had won for himself 
 without an effort on his part.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A DISCOVERY. 
 
 ONE Sunday afternoon Newton and Heaphy, 
 and Betts and Congreve, started off for a walk. 
 It was the day for it. The atmosphere was so 
 clear that the distant highlands near the coast 
 stood up against the sky, clearly outlined in a 
 shade of deeper blue. Each breath stung one 
 to quick exertion. The road that was mud the 
 day before, was hardened to stony ruts, here 
 and there crossed by the frozen remains of a 
 half-melted drift. The ringing of a church bell 
 sounded in the still air as clear as the note of a 
 crystal jar. 
 
 The four young men tramped their way down 
 the road toward the canal, Betts evidently tak- 
 ing much pleasure in shattering the white, 
 brittle ice, that gathered tight as drum-heads 
 over the dry hollows in the road. 
 
 " Did you read Sim's poem, ' The Last Leaf ' ? " 
 342
 
 A Discovery. 343 
 
 said Betts. " It begins, ' I wandered by a little 
 frozen rill.' Does n't he look as if he were 
 making notes for something now ? We '11 
 have it later. Let 's give him an idea some- 
 thing fetching. I never can write anything in 
 the verse line without thinking of a tune for 
 it." 
 
 " And you don't know but two tunes," put in 
 Congreve, " ' Yankee Doodle,' and ' Three 
 Cheers for the Red, White, and Blue.' " 
 
 " Patriotic, anyhow," returned Betts. " I '11 
 bet I can hum ' Old Nassau ' through without 
 a break." 
 
 " Start her up," said Congreve. " We '11 have 
 a marching quartet." 
 
 Betts happened to strike the right key, and 
 the three others joined in. 
 
 " Now, I call that singing," he exclaimed, 
 breathless, after a minute or two of noble 
 effort. 
 
 " Rather too much bass," returned Congreve, 
 throwing a handful of frozen snow at Hart. 
 Then he turned to Heaphy. " Pat, you wild 
 Irishman, you sing like an angel, but one with 
 a very bad cold." 
 
 Heaphy grunted good-humoredly.
 
 344 A Princetonian. 
 
 When they reached the bridge across the 
 canal, all four leaned over the railing, and 
 looked down at the cold, blue water, with the 
 fringe of ice along the shore. 
 
 " Let 's go into the lock-keeper's and get a 
 glass of cider," suggested Putney. 
 
 " Have to go you," said Congreve. " Strange 
 thing, nobody has ever written a poem about 
 cider." 
 
 " Come along, you '11 get an inspiration." 
 
 " I think we '11 stay here and wait for you," 
 said Hart, leaning back against the bridge. 
 
 Heaphy and he watched the others go up 
 and knock at the door of the little yellow 
 house. Close by, a big curly dog was tugging 
 furiously at his chain. 
 
 " If either of you chaps want this animal, 
 you can come here and get him," shouted 
 Betts. " He 's gentle and he 's kind, and you '11 
 hardly ever find a " 
 
 Just then a woman came to the door and 
 Betts and Congreve went inside the house. 
 
 " You might as well decide to come up to 
 New York with me next Tuesday, Pat ; I want 
 you to meet Mrs. Carter and it will be sort of 
 a break for you ; now don't be a donkey."
 
 A Discovery. 345 
 
 " I am not much on society," Heaphy an- 
 swered. " I 'm afraid I 'd make the breaks my- 
 self. Honestly, girls frighten me to death." 
 
 " Then what under the sun was the use of 
 your taking dancing lessons this winter ? " 
 
 " Just to see whether I could learn or not," 
 Heaphy laughed. " But I think I will come up 
 with you perhaps." 
 
 " Betts and Ransom are going ; I think we '11 
 have a good time." 
 
 " I seem to have a better time now than I 
 used to, anyhow," was the reply. " I 'm mighty 
 happy, are n't you ? " 
 
 Hart did n't answer. Just then the two 
 young men came out of the house. 
 
 " Harder than rocks," said Congreve. " I 
 would n't let Betts drink any of it. Come on ; 
 let 's go back to college. I 'm catching chil- 
 blains." 
 
 Mrs. Carter had not placed Newton and 
 Madge beside one another at the table. Miss 
 Hollingsworth sat between Heaphy and Pro- 
 fessor Rankin ; Heaphy was on Mrs. Carter's 
 left and Hart on her right-hand next to Miss 
 Bliss. Then came Harold Carter and a little
 
 346 A Princetonian. 
 
 girl in a high-necked frock. Tad Elliott sat at 
 the head of the table. Danforth was not pres- 
 ent and Betts could n't come at the last minute. 
 
 " Do you know, I like your red-headed friend 
 very much," Mrs. Carter said in a low voice to 
 Newton. " He is n't a beauty, but he has the 
 right ring about him. He seems to be getting 
 on very well with Madge too. Really, New- 
 ton," (Mrs. Carter had exercised the privilege of 
 addressing him by his first name without ask- 
 ing permission) " there 's the finest girl / 
 know." 
 
 She followed his glance across the table, and 
 gave a little smile to herself. She also saw 
 that Madge had caught the glance he gave, and 
 lowered her eyes. 
 
 " You know it 's rumored she 's going to be 
 engaged very shortly," Mrs. Carter said in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " Is that true? "asked Newton rather huskily. 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it, myself," Mrs. 
 Carter returned in the same low voice. " I 
 don't think she '11 marry for a long time yet. 
 She 's only twenty-two and that 's young for 
 now-a-days. But pardon me, Miss Bliss was 
 saying something to you."
 
 A Discovery. 347 
 
 Newton turned to his right-hand neighbor. 
 
 Heaphy was evidently under the spell of 
 Madge's presence ; in fact in the first two min- 
 utes of conversation with her he had lost all of 
 his self-consciousness. Just now he was relat- 
 ing something in which Hart figured evidently, 
 and Madge was looking across the table with 
 a strange expression on her face. Mrs. Carter 
 noticed it, and catching Mary Bliss's eye, 
 deliberately winked at her a wink of pure 
 
 jy- 
 
 The play was a strange choice, perhaps, to 
 be made for a rather juvenile party to attend. 
 It was the well-worn extravaganza, " Evange- 
 line," but Mrs. Carter said, " It is old enough 
 to be respectable, no matter how you dress it." 
 So she had secured two boxes that were sepa- 
 rated from one another by a low railing scarcely 
 reaching to the elbow of a person seated in 
 either one. The curtain had not gone up when 
 they arrived, and placing Professor Ransom, 
 Madge, and Newton, in the box with herself, 
 the rest of the party went in the next. 
 
 During the first act Newton and Miss Hol- 
 lingsworth saw a little of what was going on on 
 the stage. They had begun a whispered con-
 
 348 A Princetonian. 
 
 versation ; once their eyes had met, and for the 
 first time a thrill stronger than ever Newton 
 had felt before, and very different, made him 
 stop in the middle of a sentence. It was as if he 
 had seen so deep into the gray eyes that he had 
 caught lurking there something that touched 
 him with the deepest feeling of his life. Hope 
 rose within him ! The idea of a possibility 
 that gave him courage, and bade him dare to 
 think. Madge apparently did not notice the 
 sudden break in what he had been saying. 
 
 Someone entered very silently and spoke to 
 Mrs. Carter at just this moment. 
 
 " How do you do ? I saw you in the box, 
 and thought I 'd come in for a minute." 
 
 Despite the assumption of ease in his manner 
 Danforth was a little perturbed as he bent over 
 Madge's shoulder after his first greeting. Al- 
 though she had not extended her hand to him, 
 he picked it up familiarly, whispering in her 
 ear, " Having a good time, Madge ? " 
 
 "Thank you; a very good time," she said, 
 withdrawing her fingers. 
 
 " Hallo, Hart," Danforth said, as if he had 
 just discovered Newton's presence, " had n't 
 seen you in the shadow. What do you think
 
 A Discovery. 349 
 
 of this new play ? First production, you know. 
 Some pretty girls, eh ? " 
 
 Madge was biting her lips with anger. 
 
 " Glad you admire them, Danforth," said 
 Hart. 
 
 " Well," responded the latter, " I did n't 
 know whether you did or not. Look at the 
 one at the end ; she 's been doing nothing but 
 gaze at this box since she came on the stage." 
 
 Hart looked down the line of gauzy sprites 
 who a moment before, had been kicking reck- 
 lessly about. They had just come to a halt to 
 allow another band of bespangled creatures in 
 very diaphanous garments, to come on the 
 stage. 
 
 " There she is, the one on the left," said 
 Danforth pointing. 
 
 It was only by the greatest effort that New- 
 ton could control himself or keep from leaping 
 to his feet. A chill came over him, and his 
 breast suddenly grew cold. There stood 
 Mabel Van Clees with a fascinated expression 
 on her face, as her blue eyes looked straight at 
 him. It was horrible. Mabel here, in these 
 surroundings ! Dressed in that state of little 
 or nothing ! It was like a frightful dream.
 
 35 A Princetonian. 
 
 " I hope you '11 know one another the next 
 time you meet," observed Danforth facetiously. 
 Then he leaned closer. " I could swear she 
 knows you right enough now, old man, eh? " 
 
 Newton could have felled him, he was afraid 
 to turn his head to look at him for fear that 
 his rage would get the upper hand. 
 
 " I wish you would stop your whispering 
 behind my back, Mr. Danforth ; I don't think 
 it is very polite," said Miss Hollingsworth. 
 
 The girl on the stage had swayed a little 
 uneasily, the one next to her caught her by 
 the wrist and whispered something in her ear. 
 They were standing near the wings, and the 
 end-girl stepped backwards out of sight, some- 
 one caught her and carried her out. 
 
 " Oh ! Did you see that poor creature faint 
 behind the scenes ? " asked Mrs. Carter of Pro- 
 fessor Ransom. " Tight lacing, I suppose." 
 
 " Or a very sudden cold from exposure," said 
 the Professor in a whisper. 
 
 Not three people in the audience noticed it 
 however, and the end fairy was not missed in 
 the kaleidoscopic melee that followed. 
 
 Danforth did not leave the box. He kept 
 making little remarks to Madge in a low tone.
 
 A Discovery. 351 
 
 Hart could not hear them, but they seemed to 
 demand no answer, for, despite Miss Hollings- 
 worth's silence, they were continued. 
 
 At last the curtain rang down on the scene 
 where Evangeline and her party, the lone fish- 
 erman included, ascend into the heavens in a 
 very jerky baloon. Everybody stood up to go. 
 Madge turned and handed her cloak to Newton 
 without a word. He arranged it about her 
 shoulders. Her face was very pale, but when 
 he had finished, she looked up at him and 
 thanked him in a whisper. 
 
 The confusion that he had been in for the 
 last few minutes vanished. Again the great 
 feeling with hope arising within him, almost 
 made him waiver. 
 
 " Is this Mr. Hart ? " asked a little man in a 
 worn dress-suit and a shabby shirt-front. He 
 spoke in a low discreet voice. 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 " Note for you, sir, from Miss Sybil Carryl." 
 
 " What ?" said Hart, not understanding. 
 
 " The young lady on the end, sir, told me to 
 give you this." 
 
 Newton took the crumpled piece of paper 
 and thrust it into his pocket.
 
 352 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Did you see that ? " observed Danforth to 
 Mrs. Carter. " Now, I call that rather bare- 
 faced, don't you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Carter paid no attention to him. But 
 after she had marshalled all the little party into 
 a big theatre 'bus backed against the curb, she 
 turned. 
 
 " Good-night, Mr. Hart," she said with a nod. 
 
 The Professor who had been waiting, stepped 
 into the 'bus. 
 
 " Why, I thought he was going with us," he 
 observed to Mrs. Carter. 
 
 " No, I did n't ask him," returned Mrs. 
 Carter glancing at Madge who sat silently 
 beside Mary Bliss holding her hand. 
 
 Newton stood near the entrance in a dazed 
 sort of way and watched them leave. He did not 
 know that Danforth, standing a few feet away 
 on the corner, was regarding him attentively. 
 
 As the 'bus swept out of sight, he slowly 
 took the crumpled letter from his pocket. It 
 was written in lead pencil, but he remembered 
 the handwriting even to the little flourish of 
 the capital letters. He read it by aid of the 
 glaring electric light overhead. " Dear New- 
 ton," it ran, " for old sake do come and
 
 A Discovery. 353 
 
 see me. I am in great trouble and need 
 help. Don't forsake me, for God's sake, 
 don't." She had evidently had some difficulty 
 with the signature, for she began " Yours affec- 
 tionately," and then scratched it out, ending, 
 " Yours truly, Mabel." Then followed a post- 
 script, giving an address in a side street not far 
 from Broadway. 
 
 Newton folded the epistle carefully and put 
 it back into his pocket. When he reached the 
 corner, for the first time he saw that Danforth 
 was waiting. 
 
 " Hallo," said the latter, " let 's walk down 
 together." They crossed the street. 
 
 "You got your note all right, old man, 
 did n't you," Danforth went on, confidingly. 
 " You 're a great one." 
 
 Hart did not even look at him. 
 
 " Going to meet her? " 
 
 '"Yes," Hart responded, "I'm going to 
 meet her, if I must answer you. But I sup- 
 pose " 
 
 Danforth interrupted him. " Oh, I gave up 
 that sort of thing long ago," he said carelessly. 
 " It 's none of my business. I don't wish to be 
 inquisitive you know."
 
 354 A Princetonian. 
 
 " No," was the response. " It is none of 
 your business. And, see here ! this is a corner, 
 if you are going straight down the street, I 'm 
 going to take it. If not, you 'd better take it 
 yourself." 
 
 Danforth flushed. He looked at the angry 
 face above him, and affected to be amused. 
 
 " Good-night, old boy," he said, " but take 
 care of yourself. There 's your corner, take it 
 if you wish to." 
 
 He turned and walked slowly away, but 
 stopping at a lamp-post he struck a match, and 
 lit a cigarette. Hart saw that he was laughing. 
 He could have torn him to pieces. 
 
 " Has Mr. Hollingsworth come in this even- 
 ing? " Raymond Danforth asked of the liveried 
 man at his club door, ten minutes after this 
 strange parting. 
 
 " Yes, sir, he 's in the smoking-room." 
 
 Danforth gave up his hat and cloak, and 
 finding Hollingsworth sitting with some young 
 men in a corner, he drew up a chair. 
 
 " Oh, I 've got a funny story to tell you fel- 
 lows," he began at once, and with great gusto 
 he related the events of the evening.
 
 A Discovery. 355 
 
 When he had finished he turned to Kenmore. 
 
 " That 's a pretty good joke on old Pop, 
 don't you think ? " he said, eyeing him narrowly. 
 
 " I don't see where the joke comes in," Ken- 
 more answered. 
 
 " Well, don't you think it 's funny ? " 
 
 " Well, no, I don't think it 's extra funny. If 
 you had n't said you saw it, I would n't have 
 believed it, and I don't see the necessity of 
 telling it to all those fellows anyhow. My sis- 
 ter was one of the crowd in that box." 
 
 No one had laughed particularly, and Dan- 
 forth's amusing story had fallen rather flat. 
 
 Heaphy was stopping at Professor Ransom's 
 sister's house, but Newton had taken a small 
 room at a hotel. 
 
 When he reached it, he sat down near the 
 window before he struck a light. The night 
 traffic on Broadway roared below him, mingled 
 with the clang of the cable cars, a few stray 
 notes of an orchestra playing dance-music not 
 far away, drifted up on the air. What did Mrs. 
 Carter think, if she had overheard what the 
 little usher had said, and had seen him accept 
 the note? Madge had not seen it, she was too
 
 356 A Princetonian. 
 
 far ahead. Danforth's demeanor had made him 
 so angry that he could not have explained to 
 him even if he had wished to. Striking a 
 match he lit the gas and read the note from 
 Mabel over again. Its bitter pathos appealed 
 to him. He had not intended to ignore it, of 
 course, but the despairing cry for assistance 
 aroused all the pity in his breast. He would 
 go there the first thing in the morning. Poor 
 little Mabel ! 
 
 He went to bed at last, and tossed about 
 restlessly. He began to wish above everything 
 else that the whole thing had not occurred. It 
 dashed the ambitious thoughts that had come 
 to him. It was not until the early hours that 
 he fell into a troubled sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A PARTING. 
 
 A FEW minutes before the eleven-o'clock 
 train started from Jersey City to the West, 
 Kenmore Hollingsworth walked into the station 
 carrying a valise and a hat-box. He was bound 
 for Philadelphia to usher at a wedding. Seeing 
 that the gates were not yet open he stepped to 
 the news-stand to buy a paper. As he turned 
 to leave the waiting-room he gave a sudden 
 start. A young man and a young woman were 
 sitting on one of the long seats with their backs 
 toward him. He recognized Hart at once. He 
 was talking very earnestly. 
 
 Kenmore walked to the other end of the 
 room, and looked at the girl's face. It was a 
 pretty face, but rather worn and tired. Her 
 blue eyes were gazing straight at Hart ; they 
 were red as if she had lately been weeping. 
 Her clothing was not exactly flashy, nor was it 
 357
 
 358 A Princetonian. 
 
 quiet. It had a suggestion of cheap elegance, 
 and had seen some service. 
 
 Her nervous hands were twisting together in 
 her lap, in which lay a very handsome silver- 
 bound pocket-book with a little watch in one 
 corner. Its costliness was entirely out of keep- 
 ing with the saggy pair of tan shoes that were 
 tapping ceaselessly on the floor. Her whole 
 attitude was one of a person in some mental 
 suffering. 
 
 " I have nothing to reproach you with, I 've 
 told you that, Mabel," Hart was saying. " All 
 I wish to do is to help you all I can." 
 
 " Really, Newt dear, I have been good, as 
 good as I could ; and God knows how I Ve paid 
 for being foolish, but I did n't intend to do 
 wrong ; I did n't, honestly. And when he left 
 me in Pittsburgh " 
 
 " Damn him," said Newton under his breath. 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " When he left me in Pittsburgh," continued 
 the girl, " I was like to kill myself, but there 
 was a young man at the boardin'-house who 
 was interested in the theatre, and he got me a 
 place. Then I got in another show, and went
 
 A Parting. 359 
 
 on the road, and at last I learned to dance a 
 little, and so I got engagements most of the 
 time. And my name on the bills, too," she 
 added. " But, oh Newt, it 's awful ! honestly, 
 dear, I thought I 'd like to die more than once. 
 I would have, only I dassent do it." 
 
 Hart picked up one of her hands in his. 
 " But now, remember that you are going home," 
 he said. " I 've telegraphed that you are com- 
 ing, and they '11 welcome you no matter what 
 has happened. You 've got your ticket, and 
 there is nothing now to worry over." 
 
 He feared an outburst of tears. 
 
 " But, oh, Newt, there 's something else. I 
 was married two years ago." 
 
 " Yes ? " 
 
 " I was honestly married to the man whose 
 stage-name I Ve got now, only he did n't spell 
 it the same way. He did a song and dance, 
 and we did a turn at the sea-side two seasons." 
 
 " Where is he now ? " Newton asked, glancing 
 over at the clock. Somehow he wondered how 
 it was that he ever imagined that he loved her. 
 Despite the effect of the three hard years 
 and more that had passed since he had seen 
 her, she was still pretty, or at least fair to look
 
 360 A Princetonian. 
 
 at in a certain way, and yet she did not re- 
 semble at all the gaily laughing girl that used 
 to be the belle of the Oakland balls. 
 
 She had replied to his question but he had 
 not caught the answer. 
 
 " What did you say, Mabel ? " he asked. 
 
 " He is dead," she repeated, twisting her 
 hands a little faster in her lap. " He used to 
 drink pretty bad at times." 
 
 " Poor little Mabel," cried Newton with a 
 great burst of compassion. " Never mind," he 
 continued, " your father's words in his letter to 
 me were, ' There will always be a home for her 
 to come back to, if she should choose to 
 come.' " 
 
 " Oh, thank God, dear, for that," said the 
 girl, laying her hand on his knee. 
 
 Again Hart glanced at the clock. 
 
 " Come, Mabel," he said, trying to be cheer- 
 ful, " it 's about time for the train to start." 
 
 He picked up a bright new bag from the 
 floor, and she laid her hand on his arm as they 
 went through the gate. 
 
 There were two people behind them who 
 were observing all this with the greatest inter- 
 est. One was Kenmore Hollingsworth and
 
 A Parting. 361 
 
 the other Mrs. Trevellian, Raymond Danforth's 
 cousin. 
 
 Newton and Mabel stopped at the steps of 
 one of the day coaches on the west-bound 
 express. 
 
 "You Ve got the check for your trunk?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " Well then, I must say good-bye ; my own 
 train starts at once." 
 
 " Newt." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Newt, would you kiss me good-bye ? for 
 old sake's sake ? It will help me, dear. Do ! 
 Newt, kiss me good-bye." 
 
 She had placed her hand on his arm, her 
 lips were quivering. He bent his head and 
 kissed them. Suddenly Mabel saw that this 
 affecting parting had attracted some attention 
 all the actress in her was up at once. 
 
 " Good-bye, darling," she said with a smile 
 meant to be cheerful. " Good-bye. Do write 
 me soon." With that she turned and before 
 Newton could overcome his astonishment she 
 tripped lightly up the steps into the car waving 
 her hand. But, as soon as she had reached a
 
 362 A Princetonian 
 
 seat, she buried her face in her handkerchief, 
 and sobbed as if her heart would break. As the 
 train started, she looked tearfully out of the 
 window at the platform. It was empty, Hart 
 had entered the next train that was to follow 
 the one on which she left. 
 
 " I 'm glad I had money enough to do that," 
 he said to himself as he sat down. Then he 
 shook his shoulders. 
 
 Everything he did or thought, he wished 
 that he could talk about or tell to Madge 
 Hollingsworth. He would never tell of the 
 doings of this day perhaps, but some time he 
 would tell her of Mabel. Since that glance 
 that he had exchanged with Madge in the box, 
 he felt as if he could tell her that more about 
 himself besides. But how strange Mrs. Car- 
 ter's conduct had been ? He was so upset at 
 the time that he had not noticed how cold her 
 parting was. He could explain, of course, to 
 her in a few words, but would it not be better 
 for her to ask an explanation than for him to 
 volunteer the information ? All at once a 
 deadly fear came over him, a fear that perhaps 
 he would never get the chance to explain at all. 
 The construction that Danforth had put upon
 
 A Parting. 363 
 
 his actions, on purpose to irritate him he 
 thought, might have been taken also by the 
 others. 
 
 He did not know that Kenmore was in the 
 next car, and got out at Princeton Junction 
 without knowing that he had been observed.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A PALAVER. 
 
 HEAPHY came down by the afternoon train. 
 He was very enthusiastic over everything that 
 he had experienced the evening before. 
 
 " Mrs. Carter dropped Professor Ransom and 
 myself at the Prof's sister's," said Heaphy in 
 talking it all over. " But there was an awfully 
 funny thing happened you know when we left 
 the theatre Hold on ; here come some fel- 
 lows, darn it." 
 
 The talk was interrupted by the noisy en- 
 trance of Betts and Golatly. 
 
 " You 'd better come over and see that Uncle- 
 Tom's-Cabin show to-night, Pop, my boy ; and 
 you too, Irish," cried Betts rumpling Heaphy's 
 hair. " Oh, say, don't miss it. Last night the 
 sophomores raised the very divil ; and to-night 
 the whole college will be there. They 're going 
 to introduce new features to beat the band." 
 364
 
 A Palaver. 365 
 
 Here it might be well to state that any show 
 to be successful at Princeton must allow of 
 great liberties on the part of the audiences who 
 often decide that a change of situations is nec- 
 essary, and insist upon having the play re- 
 written on the spot. An acquiescence to the 
 suggestions of the spectators meant popularity 
 for the performance, and money at the box- 
 office. 
 
 "You know the scene," spoke up Golatly, 
 " where Laura, or Clara, or what-'s-her-name es- 
 capes across the ice pursued by a bull-dog? " 
 
 " It 's a pack of blood-hounds, in the book," 
 suggested Heaphy. 
 
 " Well, in this case, Irish, it was one bull- 
 dog, for I saw him and counted him my- 
 self," Golatly continued. " It was awfully 
 funny ! Sitting on each cake of ice was a 
 sophomore, and they gallantly handed her from 
 one to another. Oh, yes ! and one of them 
 caught the bull-dog, and said, ' Madam, fear 
 not.' It was bully ! I just liked that fellow. 
 Yes, and you know where they auction off Un- 
 cle Tom ? Well, the audience outbid Old Marks 
 and Uncle Tom had to come down and sit with 
 them. Then they took him out afterwards,
 
 366 A Princetonian. 
 
 and filled him up with myrrh and sweet incense. 
 Come along over to-night." 
 
 " No," said Hart shaking his head, " sorry 
 we can't." 
 
 " Well, come to Hankins's, and I '11 blow you 
 to soda water," put in Betts in despair. " Did 
 you ever see two such clams ! Come to Adams's 
 then ! " 
 
 But the two room-mates resisted even this 
 strong temptation, and their visitors at last 
 departed. 
 
 " You were going on to say," began Hart, 
 after listening complacently to Betts kicking 
 his coal-scuttle down-stairs out of pure revenge, 
 " You were going on to say." 
 
 " Yes, I was going on to say, Mrs. Carter got 
 awfully sour-ball on the way home. She hardly 
 said good-night to us." 
 
 " Did she?" remarked Hart thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes, behaved awfully cranky. Queer, 
 was n't it ? " 
 
 Hart stood up and poked the fire. Then he 
 turned and sprawled himself along the mantel- 
 piece with his gaze on the ceiling. 
 
 " Irish, old man, you told me all about your- 
 self one day ; and now I 'm going to tell you 
 something about myself nothing secret."
 
 A Palaver. 367 
 
 " All? " questioned Heaphy, giving a furtive 
 glance at the photograph at Hart's elbow. 
 
 " Now, don't be inquisitive. I 'm going to 
 tell you something. I did n't interrupt you, you 
 know." 
 
 " Go on," said Heaphy, seeing that this was 
 very serious. 
 
 " Have you ever loved a girl ? " asked New- 
 ton suddenly. 
 
 This was rather disconcerting, and not much 
 of a beginning. 
 
 " I don't know," Patrick returned, blushing 
 up to his hair, which was as far as the blush 
 could go. " I thought I might have been in 
 love, or was in love, or hoped I might be some 
 day oh, I don't know don't think I ever was. 
 I told you I did n't get on very well with the 
 girls. Why did you ask me such a thing as that 
 anyhow?" he blurted out at last. Hart was 
 smiling despite himself. " Ah, go on with your 
 story," cried Heaphy kicking at the waste-paper 
 basket. 
 
 " That 's all I wanted to know," Newton re- 
 plied. "Then you never were engaged." 
 
 " No ! " roared Heaphy, " I never was." 
 
 " I was engaged when I came to college," 
 Hart began again, straightening himself a little.
 
 368 A Princetonian. 
 
 Then he went on to tell about himself, talk- 
 ing in slow, very carefully-worded sentences. 
 He told of his early life in the great open 
 prairie ; of what a strange man his father had 
 been : a man who would read the Greek Testa- 
 ment by the flickering candle-light, and who 
 used to quote Shakespeare by the hour. 
 
 " I don't remember anything about my 
 mother," Newton continued ; " but I knew 
 that she was dead when we came from some 
 city to live in Kansas, from whence we moved 
 to Nebraska. I believe I was born in Cali- 
 fornia. Now, that 's all of the preface." 
 
 So he proceeded slowly to tell of the cloud- 
 burst and the freshet, and the drowning sheep 
 in the corrals, and his father's death. And he 
 went on to relate the happenings of his life at 
 Oakland. How he had grown up rather a waif 
 and stray ; but luckily cared for by kind hands 
 until he could look out for himself. Then he 
 told of how Mabel Van Clees came into his 
 life, and the only thing he left out of the story 
 was the way he took Bord McGovern with 
 Bord's own revolver. 
 
 "At last I wanted to learn something," New- 
 ton said again, after a pause, poking the fire,
 
 A Palaver. 369 
 
 " and I took to books. Then I met those fel- 
 lows in the Glee Club, Buck Franklin and the 
 rest, you know, and they prodded me so that I 
 came to college." 
 
 "Well, is that all?" asked Heaphy breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " No," returned Newton. " Do you remem- 
 ber the night that I returned from the football 
 game in freshman year ? we were on the train 
 together." 
 
 " Do you mean the night you broke the en- 
 gagement with me to meet you in your room ? " 
 asked Heaphy. 
 
 " Yes," answered Hart. " I don't believe I 
 ever begged your pardon for not turning up. 
 I do so now." 
 
 " Pardon me," said Heaphy. " Go on." 
 
 " Well, that night I received a telegram from 
 the father of the girl I was engaged to, [he had 
 not mentioned any names, by the way] telling 
 me that she had ran away with another man." 
 
 " Eh ? " interjected Heaphy. 
 
 " Yes," went on Hart, calmly and collectedly. 
 "Another man, damn him. Now the strange 
 thing about it was, that I felt sorry for her, but 
 could not feel sorry for myself. Something
 
 370 A Princetonian. 
 
 else was on my mind perhaps in fact was on 
 my mind." Again he paused. 
 
 Heaphy began to recollect now Hart's strange 
 behavior through the winter months of fresh- 
 man year. This might account for it. 
 
 " You did n't love her ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," Hart returned, " long, long ago, I 
 found that out. I would have married her, 
 though," he added quickly, " and she would 
 never have known the difference ; of that I 
 am well assured." 
 
 " Is that the end?" 
 
 " Not yet. Last night at the theatre " 
 
 Somebody hailed their room from outside 
 the window. 
 
 " Oh, Pat Heaphy ! Oh, Pop Hart ! " 
 
 Heaphy half arose and slowly turned down 
 the light. 
 
 " Sh-h-h," he said in a whisper. " Don't 
 answer." 
 
 For full two minutes they stood there in the 
 silence and semi-darkness ; then Heaphy turned 
 up the light again. 
 
 " They Ve gone away ; go on." 
 
 " I saw her again she was the end-girl in 
 that line of of the ones in pink. She saw
 
 A Palaver. 371 
 
 me before I saw her, and sent me a note. I 
 saw her this morning. God ! what a story she 
 told me. And an odd thing was, she did n't 
 know really how sad it was ! And to think 
 that I had once thought I loved her! that 
 was the strange part. I could not persuade 
 myself that I had ever done so, and I did n't, 
 really I did n't know." 
 
 " Well," said Heaphy, " for the fourth or fifth 
 time, is that all ? " 
 
 " She has gone home to her parents. And 
 that 's the end of it, I hope." 
 
 Heaphy looked disappointed. 
 
 " You have n't told me everything, have 
 you ? " 
 
 " That 's all there is to that. Honestly, I am 
 not hiding anything from you that I can tell, 
 or that there would be any good in talking 
 about. Come, let 's open the window, and get 
 some air into this room." 
 
 " My dear Clara, it all goes to show you that 
 men were deceivers ever. I will not say that I 
 thought at first that your friend, Mr. Hart, 
 could not be trusted, but I think really that 
 you put too much confidence in him."
 
 372 A Princetonian. 
 
 Mrs. Trevellian sank back in the cushions as 
 if this little speech had decided matters. 
 
 " And she was the most common-looking 
 creature, too, I do assure you, my dear. And 
 the way he kissed her on the platform of the 
 station was downright vulgar. He did not see 
 me, or perhaps he had sense enough not to 
 recognize me. Ray told me all about the af- 
 fair at the theatre, and he said you must have 
 noticed it." 
 
 Mrs. Carter had remained silent through this 
 long speech. She contented herself with drum- 
 ming on the edge of her teacup with a little 
 silver spoon. She had found out by experi- 
 ence, being somewhat of a philosopher, that it 
 did not pay to commit one's self altogether 
 even to one's best friend, especially if that 
 friend happens to be a woman. So she 
 drummed on and said nothing. Mrs. Trevel- 
 lian was evidently becoming a little angry. 
 
 " Surely you are not going to have him about 
 after this ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " My dear Bertha," began Mrs. Carter, chas- 
 ing a lemon seed around in her teacup, " I do 
 not think Mr. Hart and I will see one another 
 again for a long time. I should think my
 
 A Palaver. 373 
 
 own feelings would be too plain to need an 
 explanation." 
 
 " I think you have been awfully imposed 
 upon." 
 
 This time Mrs. Carter drank her tea. She 
 did not show really how hurt she had been, but 
 she saw what other people did not ; that behind 
 the whole affair there was some mystery, some- 
 thing that would deprive Hart's unfortunate 
 action of its glaring vulgarity, to say the least. 
 A maid appeared at the door, and knocked 
 softly although it was open. 
 
 " Mr. Danforth is down-stairs. He called for 
 Mrs. Trevellian, ma'am." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course," said that lady arising. 
 " I forgot ; I had asked him to. Well, good- 
 bye, dear. Of course, don't say anything about 
 what I told you." 
 
 Mrs. Carter smiled. 
 
 " You don't mean that seriously, really ? " 
 she asked. " If you do, I would merely repeat 
 your own words back to you. Good-bye. 
 Every one speaks of how well you are looking 
 this year." 
 
 Mrs. Trevellian joined her cousin at the bot- 
 tom of the stairway.
 
 374 -A Princetonian. 
 
 " I 've got something to tell you, Ray," she 
 said, and before they had left the door-step she 
 began her recounting. 
 
 " That puts him out of the game," she said 
 as she finished. 
 
 " I would never admit that he was in it," 
 sneered Danforth. This was not exactly the 
 truth, and he knew it ; but it made no matter. 
 
 He left Mrs. Trevellian at her door, and, 
 jumping into a hansom drove up to his ath- 
 letic club. This was the only semi-social organ- 
 ization whose lists bore the name of Mr. Sharkey 
 Sprague and that very individual happened to 
 be leaving as Danforth entered. The latter 
 gave him a little tap on the legs with his stick. 
 
 " Come back to the bar and have a drink," 
 he said, " I 've got something to tell you." 
 
 Sprague was intensly interested by the 
 recital, and looked wonderous wise. The temp- 
 tation to exercise his imagination and lie, grew 
 as he sipped his whiskey. 
 
 "What do you think of that?" enquired 
 Danforth, wiping his mouth on a diminutive 
 napkin. 
 
 " It only confirms," Sharkey responded, 
 " something I had heard about our friend, Pop
 
 A Palaver. 375 
 
 Hart, Esq., and that is that he was married 
 when he came to college. That 's it ! I remem- 
 ber it now ; I had it on good authority I 
 can't tell you from whom, you know, but I '11 
 bet you five hundred dollars that woman was 
 his wife. Now let me see. He had deserted 
 her, or she had deserted him. Something like 
 that. There had been some trouble." 
 
 " I thought he had some secret about him 
 when he was at college," Danforth remarked, 
 "and tried to get it out of him just for fun; 
 but he 'd never drink enough to talk about 
 himself. He always grew parliamentary and 
 argumentative, no matter how much he put 
 away. Well, I 'm going out to look at my 
 mail-box," he added. " Glad to have met you, 
 old man." 
 
 Sprague left the club, and Danforth opened 
 several letters hurriedly. One was an invita- 
 tion to meet several dames de theatre at a little 
 supper, and seeing that it was going to be a 
 very quiet affair, he sat down and wrote an ac- 
 ceptance. Then he wrote another note asking 
 Kenmore Hollingsworth to dine with him, and 
 sent that note off by a messenger. 
 
 For the third time, the story of the parting
 
 376 A Princetonian. 
 
 at Jersey City, was recounted when Dan forth 
 told it all (and what Sharkey Sprague had said 
 also) to Kenmore over the dinner-table. Hol- 
 lingsworth listened attentively. 
 
 " Who saw them at the station ? Did 
 Sprague ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, my cousin, Mrs. Trevellian." 
 
 " I say, Raymond, have you any idea that 
 Sharkey was telling the truth? " 
 
 " I have a very good authority that I can't 
 mention," replied Danforth unblushingly. 
 
 " Then my belief in human nature is badly 
 jolted," Kenmore remarked with a certain bitter- 
 ness. " And a man whom I believed in thor- 
 oughly has proved himself a villain, that 's all." 
 
 " Melodramatic, but apt," laughed Danforth. 
 " Come, let 's go to the play." 
 
 " No, thanks, don't care to, to-night. I Ve 
 got to read some law." 
 
 Kenmore dropped his cigarette into his cof- 
 fee cup, and left the dining-room. Four days 
 later he happened to meet Mrs. Carter at an 
 afternoon reception. They succeeded in get- 
 ting into a corner where no one could listen to 
 their conversation, and of course they spoke of 
 the subject that was uppermost in their minds.
 
 A Palaver. 377 
 
 " I Ve heard something new about Mr. Hart," 
 Mrs. Carter observed, " and something very 
 strange." 
 
 " I Ve heard something, also," Kenmore re- 
 sponded. 
 
 " What 's that ? Tell me, please. Do you 
 mean his being with that girl at the station ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Kenmore ; " I saw that 
 myself." 
 
 " You did ! Then what? " 
 
 " Why, that he was married to her and she 
 ran away from him, or something like that." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Mrs. Carter, suddenly put- 
 ting down her plate of ice-cream on a marble 
 table-top almost hard enough to break it. 
 " Oh ! " she repeated. Then she paused with 
 her finger at her lips. " Poor fellow, I feel so 
 sorry for him ! " 
 
 " Well, I think he should have told somebody 
 about it." 
 
 " Do people generally tell such things about 
 themselves ? " remarked Mrs. Carter quietly.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A CALL. 
 
 HEAPHY had put on his best suit of clothes 
 one Thursday morning, and was looking at 
 himself in the glass when Hart caught him 
 at it. 
 
 " You 're getting to be a regular prink, Pat." 
 " How does it fit in the back?" Heaphy re- 
 sponded, trying to stroke himself between the 
 shoulders. 
 
 "Great. What are you sprucing up for?" 
 " I told you last night I was going up to 
 make some calls to-day. Going to call on Mrs. 
 Carter, er and er Miss Hollingsworth 
 she asked me, you know. Why don't you come 
 along? " 
 
 " What train are you going to take ? " 
 " The one that starts in about six minutes. 
 I 've got to get a move on me. Tell you all 
 about it when I get back." 
 378
 
 A Call. 379 
 
 When Newton heard the train starting he 
 wished sincerely that he was on it, and the idea 
 grew upon him so strongly that he decided that 
 he would go up at one o'clock and drop in at 
 Mrs. Carter's anyhow afterwards, who knows 
 somewhere else. So, for the first time in many 
 a month, he cut the lecture on Roman law, and, 
 after running half a mile on top of a hastily 
 bolted luncheon, he caught the train for the 
 city by a narrow margin. 
 
 Heaphy had arrived in town very early, and 
 had taken his mid-day meal at a little restaurant 
 down-town that had the bill-of-fare hung every- 
 where on the walls, and had lace curtains and 
 pies in the front windows. Then he had spent an 
 hour or so at the Academy of Design, where an 
 exhibition was being held, and about half-past 
 two he concluded that it was late enough to 
 expect to find anybody in. So he walked over 
 to the avenue, and with some trepidation rang 
 the Hollingsworth bell. An immense con- 
 course of people lined the sidewalks on either 
 side. Hastily constructed grand stands had 
 been built at various points, and it was with 
 great difficulty that he had wedged himself 
 through the crowd. The great east side and
 
 380 A Princetonian. 
 
 the great west side had met at a common 
 centre. 
 
 It was the occasion of a great civic and mili- 
 tary parade for which the city had been pre- 
 paring for some time, in commemoration of an 
 important event in its early history. 
 
 " Miss 'Ollingsworth is not at 'ome, sir," said 
 Hawkins, opening the door. 
 
 " I 'm very sorry, indeed," said Heaphy, 
 spilling his cards on the doorstep in his efforts 
 to extract them from his vest pocket. 
 
 Hawkins helped him gather them up, and 
 Heaphy plunged into the crowd and fought his 
 way over to Madison Avenue, where he took 
 the down-town car for Mrs. Carter's. It was 
 very quiet in the little square that was filled 
 with nurse-maids and children moving about 
 inside the railings several little unprivileged 
 ones peering in at them from the outside. 
 
 Mrs. Carter was at home, " and would be 
 down in a minute." Heaphy seated himself 
 on a chair near the window in the drawing- 
 room. He was not kept waiting long, for in 
 less than three minutes Mrs. Carter put in her 
 appearance. She had been going out ; in fact, 
 her carriage was at the door, but she removed
 
 A Call. 381 
 
 her bonnet, in order to prevent this fact from 
 being apparent. 
 
 " Come over and sit by me on the sofa," she 
 said, " and we can have a chat." 
 
 It was very natural that their conversation 
 should soon get around to the subject of 
 Heaphy's room-mate. Heaphy did not recog- 
 nize the fact that Mrs. Carter herself was 
 responsible for it, however, but she had deter- 
 mined to find out all he knew on the subject, 
 and in this she succeeded far beyond her ex- 
 pectations. Little by little she managed to 
 get Newton's story second-hand, even to the 
 recounting of the meeting at the theatre, and 
 his sending the poor, unhappy girl home to her 
 parents. 
 
 " Do you know her name ? " Mrs. Carter 
 asked after he had finished. 
 
 " He did n't tell me that," Heaphy said, 
 ''and I'm afraid that I shouldn't have said 
 anything about it at all." 
 
 " I 'm very glad you did, my dear boy," was 
 Mrs. Carter's rejoinder to this, " and I think he 
 would be also." 
 
 For some reason she seemed much elated. 
 Her visitor's stay was a long one ; but as soon
 
 382 A Princetonian. 
 
 as he had gone, she put on her bonnet as 
 quickly as possible, and ordered the coachman 
 to drive to Mrs. Hollingsworth's. 
 
 " I don 't think I can, ma'am," the man an- 
 swered with his finger at his hat brim. " The 
 avenoo is closed, ma'am." 
 
 " Oh, I forgot," Mrs. Carter said to herself. 
 " I '11 go there to-morrow." 
 
 It was just at this very moment that Hart 
 had succeeded in grinding his way through the 
 crowd to Miss Hollingsworth's door. Hawkins, 
 the pompous, declared that the ladies " was hall 
 hout," and took his cards, glancing at them 
 superciliously. 
 
 After spending a quarter of an hour elbow- 
 ing along the sidewalks, and only progressing 
 seven or eight blocks, Newton determined to 
 cross to the other side of the street. Seizing a 
 moment when a policeman's back was turned, 
 he made the opposite corner without much 
 trouble. But now the thundering of drums, 
 and the throbbing of brass-bands was in the 
 air. There was a swaying of the* multitude, 
 and headed by a cordon of mounted police, the 
 Seventy-first Regiment Band swept down the 
 avenue. As far up as one could see were lines
 
 A Call. 383 
 
 of helmets and bayonets, with here and there a 
 flag slanting upwards, or a mounted officer ris- 
 ing above the rank and file. 
 
 Newton had never seen so great a gathering 
 of armed men, and the scene impressed him. 
 It meant more to him than merely a holiday 
 procession of holiday soldiers ; it was just this 
 same class of men that had gone to fight the 
 battles at the front : clerks and mechanics, 
 artisans and laborers, " butchers, bakers, and 
 candlestick-makers," and young men of means 
 and leisure, the citizen-soldiery of the North. 
 
 Before him stood a man with gray hair and 
 erect bearing ; every time the colors passed, he 
 doffed his hat. In the lapel of his coat showed 
 a little bronze button. 
 
 Hart was standing on the steps of the corner 
 house. It was crowded with children and work- 
 a-day people, and the side street was jammed 
 with trucks and wagons, from which vantage- 
 spots many were watching the parade. But his 
 own thoughts had wandered from it, and he 
 began to realize how much he had wished to 
 see Madge Hollingsworth. The disappointment 
 grew on him, and although he knew the pro- 
 ceeding would not be exactly conventional, he
 
 384 A Princetonian. 
 
 made up his mind to call again later in the 
 evening. 
 
 Just then a commotion in the side street at- 
 tracted his attention, and he saw that a hansom 
 cab had become wedged in between two large 
 vans that were packed about by the crowd. 
 The driver was evidently attempting to urge 
 his horse forward in order to turn him around, 
 and to this the people objected. All at once 
 Newton got a glimpse of the occupant of the 
 hansom a tall girl dressed in dark blue was 
 half-standing up, and trying to attract the at- 
 tention of the driver. The people standing on 
 the steps must have wondered what had sud- 
 denly seized the tall young man who had not 
 joined in the general conversation, for he had 
 lifted an excited little negro out of the way, 
 and, in one jump, made the walk below. 
 
 The girl in blue was Madge Hollingsworth! 
 He could see that she was getting out of the 
 hansom. 
 
 An American crowd is proverbially good- 
 natured, but there were some harsh words, that 
 he did not hear or heed, thrown at him as he 
 pushed his way up to where she was standing 
 with the mob pressed in all about her. Her
 
 A Call. 385 
 
 face was pale, and although a little frightened, 
 she was perfectly collected. He was close to 
 her before she recognized him. Then she 
 colored a little. 
 
 " Is n't it a dreadful pack?" she said. " I Ve 
 been trying to cross the avenue for an hour, 
 and this man insisted upon driving in here. I 
 was going to try it on foot, but now all I want 
 to do," she concluded, giving a glance about 
 her, " is to get out of this." 
 
 " Take my arm, please," he said, " I '11 help 
 you." 
 
 She obeyed him without a word, and her self- 
 dependence appeared to leave her in a measure, 
 although she smiled at him bravely. The 
 crowd extended a good distance back into the 
 street, but by using a great deal of forbearance 
 and tact, besides, of course, a fair amount of 
 strength, Hart managed to work his way toward 
 the edge, Madge following closely after him. 
 He had not met with any serious trouble in his 
 passage until he ran across two or three burly, 
 thick-set men dressed not like laborers, or 
 working people, but belonging to that class of 
 shabbily-prosperous whose manner of living it 
 might be hard to guess. One meets them at
 
 386 A Princetonian. 
 
 race-courses, and at all large public gatherings. 
 They generally begin their conversation with 
 "Say," and address a stranger as "young 
 feller." 
 
 "What t'ell you tryin' to do, young feller?" 
 snarled the largest. 
 
 Hart had accidentally or intentionally pushed 
 him with his elbow. 
 
 " Here, don't get gay." 
 
 " Stand one side, then, please," said Hart, 
 " and let this lady pass." 
 
 " He 's got his goil with ' im, Pete," put in 
 one of the others with a leer. " Say, excuse me ; 
 but she 's a peach." 
 
 " If the loidy wants to get by, just let her say 
 so," continued the big one, "but I don't want 
 nuffin' from you," he continued. 
 
 " Stand to one side." 
 
 " Ah, go " 
 
 Hart caught him by the fat fist he had 
 clenched up and twisted it outwards. The 
 man's sinews must have cracked the whole 
 length of his forearm ; he doubled over on one 
 knee, and Hart pushed him aside. 
 
 " Not a word, now," he said ; " not one word, 
 not a word, please"
 
 A Call. 387 
 
 " Oh, don't, don't," whispered Miss Hollings- 
 worth, letting go his arm. 
 
 The heavy man had recovered himself, and 
 he and Hart stood there looking at each other. 
 The latter's size seemed to grow, however, 
 and the heavy man's arm felt paralyzed. A 
 policeman came wedging his way through the 
 crowd. 
 
 " What 's the row here ? " he asked. 
 
 "Nothing," said Hart, "that I know of; we 
 want to get out of this push." 
 
 He joined Miss Hollingsworth, who was 
 standing on the sidewalk, and they walked 
 from the mob just as a new brass-band with a 
 triumphant blare passed the corner. Madge 
 had not taken his arm again, but walked beside 
 him. 
 
 " That was splendid," she said timidly. 
 
 He looked down at her and smiled. 
 
 " That sort of a man would never make much 
 trouble," he said. " Don't you think it would 
 be better to go up-town, and cross ahead of all 
 this?" 
 
 They had reached the corner of Sixth 
 Avenue, and were walking up. It was a very 
 brilliant day. The white steam from the
 
 388 A Princetonian. 
 
 engines of the elevated trains caught the sun- 
 light as it whisked about the corners of the 
 streets. They had passed by the head of the 
 procession some blocks before they turned to 
 the eastward, and the crowd had considerably 
 thinned when they reached the door of the 
 Hollingsworth house. 
 
 " Well, won't you come in and make your 
 call now?" Miss Hollingsworth said. "It's 
 still very early." 
 
 Hart bent down and picked up a bit of white 
 pasteboard from one of the steps. 
 
 " Hallo, Heaphy 's been here." 
 
 " I 'm sorry I missed him," Madge returned. 
 " I think he is fine. But come in, won't you, 
 and I '11 make you a cup of tea." 
 
 They were standing inside the vestibule. 
 
 " Why don't you go on with what you were 
 saying ? " she continued. " It seems to me 
 that I have been regularly cross-examining you." 
 She gave a little laugh. " Goodness, we forgot 
 to ring the bell." 
 
 Hart leaned back and pressed the electric 
 button with his thumb. 
 
 " You know, we are going South to-morrow. 
 I may not see you for some time."
 
 A Call. 389 
 
 A temptation that he could not restrain 
 mastered him completely. " Miss Hollings- 
 worth," he said, " you have asked me what the 
 woman is like who has influenced my life, out 
 of the kindly interest of your heart ; I know 
 that, well. Long ago I determined that some 
 day I would tell you. Do not think it is be- 
 cause my ambition has soared too high, or that 
 I presume upon this moment. It is you. It 
 will always be you." 
 
 She was looking at him with wide-open eyes, 
 her arms held straight bes'de her. Slowly they 
 lifted and her head lowered. She took a half 
 step forward. The big door of the hall-way 
 opened, and Hawkins, the pompous, stood 
 there in full view. As if nothing had occurred 
 Newton followed Madge in. His feelings could 
 not be described. They were so intense as to 
 have an absolute unreality about them. He 
 could dare all now face everything. All the 
 long pent-up words trembled on his lips, but 
 the smug-faced butler was standing behind 
 him as if waiting to assist him with his over- 
 coat. 
 
 " Mrs. 'Ollingsworth wants to see you up- 
 stairs at once, Miss," he said, speaking quickly
 
 390 A Princetonian. 
 
 to Madge as if he had forgotten to deliver the 
 message before. At this very moment Mrs. 
 Hollingsworth's deep voice called down the 
 staircase : 
 
 " Madge, dear, won't you come up right 
 away; right away, dear?" 
 
 Hart took a step forward. 
 
 " Shall I go ? " he asked huskily. 
 
 " No, no, don't, don't," Madge answered 
 quickly in almost a whisper. " Yes, mamma," 
 she called up-stairs. Then she turned, and her 
 eyes met his it was for a second only. 
 
 " Won't you step in the drawing-room, sir?" 
 said the butler. Hart followed him in and 
 almost fell into one of the easy chairs. The 
 revulsion of feeling was so great that his eyes 
 were nearly filled with tears. How he longed 
 to tell her again, to repeat it over and over. 
 What had he done to deserve this great, 
 grand thing ! 
 
 Five minutes passed, ten minutes by the 
 slow-ticking clock in the corner of the room, 
 and then Hawkins appeared. 
 
 " Miss 'Ollingsworth is not coming down, sir. 
 She begs to be excused." 
 
 Newton staggered to his feet. His first
 
 A Call. 391 
 
 temptation was to grasp the butler by the 
 throat ; to tell him he lied ; to kill this bearer 
 of false tidings. But he controlled his trem- 
 bling voice. 
 
 " Did Miss Hollingsworth say anything else ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " She begs to be excused." 
 
 The trite expression sounded to Hart as 
 might the death sentence of the judge to the 
 trembling prisoner in the dock, who had ex- 
 pected an acquittal. A chill went through and 
 through him. Quite without meaning, the 
 words kept repeating themselves over and 
 over, so that he almost found them on his 
 tongue. " She begs to be excused." " She 
 begs to be excused." God ! What did it 
 mean ? 
 
 Carrying his overcoat across his arm he 
 plunged down the steps to the street. Not 
 until he reached the corner did he place his hat 
 upon his head. Some little ragamuffins trun- 
 dling a cart filled with the debris of boxes 
 looked at him curiously. A well-dressed man 
 stopped as if he were going to speak to him, 
 but just then Hart lifted his elbow from the 
 stone railing against which he had leaned for
 
 392 A Princetonian. 
 
 an instant. He threw back his shoulders and 
 started walking down the street. It had made 
 no difference to him which direction he had 
 taken.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IN SEARCH OF REST. 
 
 MADGE had been a little upset by the per- 
 emptory message and the verbal order from 
 the second-story, but she was puzzled and con- 
 fused at the reception that she met when she 
 entered her mother's little boudoir, the win- 
 dows of which fronted on the street. Mrs. 
 Hollingsworth beckoned her in, and closing 
 the door spoke in a deep whisper. 
 
 " I saw you crossing the street, Madge," she 
 said. " Did you ask that young man to stop 
 here ?" 
 
 The strangeness of the whole proceedings 
 had caused her to flush angrily. Coming so 
 close after the unexpected denouement in the 
 vestibule, it was almost more than she could 
 stand. Suddenly she saw that Kenmore was 
 standing at one of the windows looking out 
 into the street. She stepped across to him, 
 and put her hands on his shoulders. 
 393
 
 394 -A Princetonian. 
 
 " Ken, Ken," she said, " what does all this 
 mean ? Something has happened. Tell me 
 what it is ? Oh, tell me don't be silent any 
 longer ! " 
 
 Madge, Madge, dear," answered Kenmore, 
 putting his arms around his sister's waist, 
 " nothing has happened; really there is noth- 
 ing the matter. Why mother is so dramatic I 
 don't know, but it was enough to frighten you. 
 Come, let 's sit down." 
 
 He pinched her ear playfully, and Madge 
 obeyed him as though she were a child. 
 
 " We just want to tell you a little some- 
 thing; that 's all," he continued, heading off 
 his mother's words. " And it is n't anything 
 of much importance, either. Mother has an 
 idea that she does n't wish Hart to come to 
 the house." 
 
 " Why, why ?" questioned Madge, grasping 
 Kenmore's hand. " Go on, go on." 
 
 " Because," interrupted Mrs. Hollingsworth, 
 who could contain herself no longer, " because 
 he is a low fellow, and his behavior has been 
 outrageous." 
 
 Madge arose from the sofa; a great light 
 was in her eyes, and her lips were colorless.
 
 In Search of Rest. 395 
 
 " He 's not a low fellow," she said slowly, 
 looking at her mother. " You spoke hastily." 
 
 What would she not have given to have 
 Newton there ; to have walked quietly over to 
 him, the way she would have done, not to have 
 thrown herself into his arms, but to have stood 
 by his side with his fingers clasped in hers. 
 
 " Madge, Madge," interrupted Kenmore, 
 quietly, " don't let us have a scene. Let 's 
 stop all this. The whole thing is this mother 
 is angry because Pop Hart is married and never 
 saw fit to tell us about it." 
 
 " Did you say that he was married ? " Miss 
 Hollingsworth spoke as calmly and collectedly 
 as if it were a matter of no importance. To 
 all outward appearances she had scarcely an 
 interest in the news, but she had turned stone- 
 cold. Before her wide-opened eyes she could 
 see nothing but shifting colors, and such a great 
 pain came through her heart that it seemed as 
 though she were falling, and could not gain her 
 breath. Kenmore had begun to smile, and this 
 was occasioned by a glimpse of his mother's 
 face. If such a dignified grande dame as Mrs. 
 Hollingsworth could look foolish, she certainly 
 did.
 
 396 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Mr. Hart deceived us shamefully," she 
 said. " He was married all the time, and his 
 wife was on the stage here in New York. 
 Humph! probably supporting him." 
 
 Her mother's voice seemed to come out of a 
 vast darkness from a distance. If the room 
 had been better lighted, it would have been 
 easy to see that everything was not right with 
 Madge. Her face was too expressionless. 
 
 " Hawkins," called Mrs. Hollingsworth, 
 opening the door; she had pressed the bell a 
 minute since, " will you tell the young man 
 down-stairs that Miss Madge begs to be ex- 
 cused." 
 
 " Yes, 'um." 
 
 Madge turned to her mother. Her lips 
 parted in a mirthless smile. " Thank you," 
 she said. 
 
 ' ' Where are you going, dear ? ' ' asked Mrs. 
 Hollingsworth. 
 
 " I 'm just going to my room," and, with- 
 out turning again, Madge ascended the stairs 
 to her own apartments. She closed the door, 
 and stood there with both hands clasped above 
 her heart ; then, without a cry or a moan, she 
 pitched forward onto the soft carpet.
 
 In Search of Rest. 397 
 
 " Where under the sun are you going ? You 
 look like a ghost." Newton stopped and ex- 
 tended his hand. 
 
 " Why, hallo," he said, " I 'm not going 
 anywhere in particular." 
 
 Fred Minton looked at him curiously. 
 
 " Won't you come in somewhere and have a 
 drink, old man ? " he said. 
 
 Hart pulled himself together. 
 
 " No, thanks, old boy; have n't got time." 
 
 " Why, I thought you said that you were 
 going no place in particular." 
 
 " Did I ?" 
 
 Now, when a man talks like this, it should 
 be perfectly apparent that for the nonce he 
 prefers his own company to yours or anybody's 
 else. So Minton, a little angry, said," Well, 
 glad to have met you," curtly, and went on his 
 way. Hart did likewise, not worrying as to 
 whether he had been rude or not. He walked 
 all the way to the ferry, and just by luck hap- 
 pened to catch a train. 
 
 A dim fire was burning in the open grate, 
 for the day had been quite chill.
 
 398 A Princetonian. 
 
 When Heaphy awoke, long after midnight, 
 he happened to look out into the little study. 
 There sat his room-mate before the fire, with 
 his head bowed over his folded arms. 
 
 Are n't you ever coming to bed ? " Patrick 
 grunted, sleepily. 
 
 " Not just yet a while; good-night." 
 
 In a big room in a house on Fifth Avenue, a 
 girl with tear-reddened eyes lay wide awake. 
 She had broken down at last, thank God, into 
 the natural recourse of womankind tears. 
 The noisy carts were rattling over the stones, 
 and the morning traffic had begun before 
 she fell asleep. 
 
 The next morning, as they drove to the ferry 
 to take the Virginia express, Mr. Hollings- 
 worth turned to his wife. 
 
 It 's a good thing we are starting now, my 
 dear," he said. " Another few days in the 
 city and this young lady would be ill." 
 
 He pointed his finger at Madge who sat op- 
 posite to him. She smiled a wan, tired little 
 smile. 
 
 When Heaphy stirred about quite early, as 
 was his habit, he noticed a few strange things.
 
 In Search of Rest. 399 
 
 Hart was gone already, his bed had not been 
 disturbed, and the photograph was missing 
 from its usual place on the mantel-piece. 
 
 Heaphy was intelligent. The picture of the 
 solitary figure sitting before the fire the previ- 
 ous evening ; the visit to New York Poor old 
 Pop! 
 
 Heaphy saw it all, or at least he thought he 
 did, as plainly as if he had been told. He 
 gave a sigh. 
 
 " Now, I suppose that I 've got to make 
 believe I am blind ! " 
 
 He looked into the ashes of the grate and 
 poked about there with the tongs. 
 
 "Well, he did n't burn it, that 's evident," 
 he remarked to himself. " This is a sad warn- 
 ing to me. ' ' He stood there thoughtfully, then 
 he dropped the tongs with a clatter. 
 
 At one of the morning's lectures Golatly 
 probed Betts with a lead-pencil. 
 
 " Pop looks as though he had lost his last 
 friend," he said. 
 
 " He certainly has something on his mind," 
 was the reply. " I wonder what 's gone 
 wrong."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A FEW DEVELOPMENTS. 
 
 THE Okalilli Club is an organization that 
 owns some thousands of acres along the low 
 sea-coast of South Carolina. The majority of 
 its members are New Yorkers who are of a 
 sporting turn of fancy. In a wilderness of 
 pine and scrubby underbrush some five miles 
 from the nearest railroad they have erected a 
 shingle palace of vast dimensions. It looks 
 out of place in its entire loneliness, but when it 
 is filled with members and their families, gaiety 
 reigns. The country abounds in quail and tur- 
 key, and occasionally a deer may be seen from 
 the club-house window. Even when the North 
 is shrouded in snow, the water on the Okalilli 
 beach tempts many bathers. 
 
 It was an unpromising, rainy day and the 
 smoking-room was quite crowded with groups 
 sitting about the tables. No ladies were pres- 
 400
 
 A Few Developments. 401 
 
 ent, and there was a vinous odor in the atmos- 
 phere. Mr. Hollingsworth, senior, and a 
 young-looking man with gray hair and mous- 
 tache sat talking at a table near the fireplace in 
 which a cheerful blaze was roaring. 
 
 " I tell you what, Halsey," observed Mr. 
 Hollingsworth, " this is no time for putting 
 matters off. I think that there is something 
 certainly very odd about the whole trans- 
 action." 
 
 " Well, it 's plain to me," returned the gray 
 man, " that somebody learned the value of 
 this property about the same time we did. 
 Good phosphate lands don't go begging, you 
 know, and I thought that we were the first in 
 the field. You see, the people who started 
 this little company did it just to sell out ; 
 but, by Jove ! they did n't know what they 
 owned." 
 
 " That 's the way with a great many smart 
 people," laughed Mr. Hollingsworth. " Look 
 here, do you know, I think that you 'd better 
 go down there to Florida right away; then 
 stop here on your way back. I won't shoot all 
 the birds." 
 
 " Well, just as you decide." 
 
 36
 
 402 A Princetonian. 
 
 " What did you say was the name of the 
 person who bought that majority of stock ? " 
 
 " The name was Patrick Corse Heaphy," 
 said Mr. Halsey. " I don't know anything 
 about him, and I 've only met his representa- 
 tive; but the fact is, I don't think he wants to 
 sell. To change the subject, how is Miss Hol- 
 lingsworth this morning ? " 
 
 " She is a little better, but not very well. 
 Did too much this season, I think." 
 
 " By Jove ! " ejaculated Halsey, suddenly, 
 " came near getting myself in a mess. When 
 I left New York night before last I saw Mrs. 
 Archie Carter, and she entrusted me with a 
 note for your daughter. Tell her I 'm sorry 
 not to deliver it to her in person." 
 
 Mr. Hollingsworth took the letter ; put it in 
 a pocket of his shooting-coat, and promptly 
 forgot all about it. 
 
 " Pat, what are you going to do when it 's 
 all over?" asked Hart of his room-mate as 
 they were dressing one morning. Heaphy, 
 who was shaving in the next room, did not 
 reply at once. His razor was making a very 
 audible sign that it was dull. Heaphy was
 
 A Few Developments. 403 
 
 muttering, so Newton waited a minute, and 
 repeated his question. 
 
 " I may go South for a time," was the an- 
 swer at last, " down to that place in Florida 
 where I spent my last vacation. Got some 
 property there ; something that with good 
 management would make er will make, a 
 pot of money." 
 
 " What an avaricious person you are, Irish." 
 
 " It isn't that," returned Heaphy, " I want 
 to make it myself. This is something I just 
 tumbled on to. I 'm going to try to make it 
 pay." 
 
 There came a click at the little letter slide in 
 the door. 
 
 "Anything for me?" inquired Patrick, 
 looking into the room, and mopping his face 
 with a wet towel. 
 
 " No, I 'm the lucky one. Hallo, it 's a 
 letter from Van Clees." 
 
 Newton broke it open. It was a long letter 
 and he read it hastily. In the first place it was 
 not dated Oakland, but from another town in 
 Nebraska Red Rock, a place that had a flour- 
 ishing future. Mr. Van Clees stated that he 
 had sold out and opened a new store here, and
 
 404 A Princetonian. 
 
 was doing a good business ; that he and his 
 wife were perfectly happy, and that Mabel was 
 well and a great comfort to them. He spoke 
 of how she had changed, and how contented 
 they were; and how much they owed to Hart. 
 But the gist of the letter was in the latter part 
 of it, and when Hart came to it, he read it 
 over twice. It conveyed information of the 
 utmost importance, for it stated that on the 
 quarter-section of supposedly useless land, 
 Newton's sole inheritance from his strange 
 father, surface coal had been discovered, and 
 that a company had offered forty-five hundred 
 dollars down for it. In commenting on this 
 offer, Mr. Van Clees bluntly stated that in his 
 opinion it was not worth " a red cent more," 
 and advised him to close at once. 
 
 Forty-five hundred dollars seemed a tremen- 
 dous sum ! Heaphy had watched him reading. 
 
 " Well, what 's up ? " he asked, as Hart sat 
 there in silence. 
 
 " Irish, I need your advice. Listen." 
 Newton read the epistle through from be- 
 ginning to end. 
 
 " What sort of a man is this Van Clees ? " 
 asked Heaphy, after he had finished.
 
 A Few Developments. 405 
 
 " As honest as they make them." 
 
 " Well, then, I 'd take his advice, and close 
 the bargain." 
 
 ' ' What shall I do with the money ? ' ' 
 
 When you get it, come to me. I think I 
 can show you how to invest it." 
 
 Well, whoever thought that you would 
 develop into a promoter." 
 
 " Well, I think I know what I 'm talking 
 about. You stick by me." 
 
 " I '11 stick by you. Hallo, there goes the 
 bell." 
 
 The occupants of the rooms along the en- 
 tries could be heard rousing out at the sound. 
 
 Newton and Heaphy joined a group of early 
 risers who were walking toward the chapel, and 
 who felt under no necessity to make undue 
 exertion to reach there before the doors 
 closed. 
 
 It must not be imagined that the effect of 
 that bitter day that had seared his soul had not 
 left its trace on Newton's character and appear- 
 ance. He had kept up by mere force of will 
 for some time, but there were moments when 
 it required every force that he could command 
 to shake off the soul-weariness and depression.
 
 406 A Princetonian. 
 
 His face wore the look of the sadness that en- 
 dures. Kenmore had not been down to Prince- 
 ton, nor had he written to him for over a 
 month. There was no explanation needed ; 
 he thought he understood it.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 ALLIES. 
 
 THE seniors had finished singing, but such a 
 grand night was it that the groups lying under 
 the elms or seated on the benches, had not 
 broken up. Occasionally some one of them 
 would light a match, and a spurt of flame 
 would illuminate the smoker's face. 
 
 " Here 's a bench; let 's sit down, you fel- 
 lows," said Golatly. " Just about hold us all. 
 Here, Pop, you take the end, then I '11 sit 
 next to you and lean on you." 
 
 The bench held seven comfortably. They 
 were Hart, and Congreve, and Golatly, and 
 Jimmie James, Patrick Corse Heaphy, Betts, 
 and Charlie Townes. 
 
 " Do you know," said Golatly, as he almost 
 
 shoved Newton off the end of the bench with 
 
 the force of his leaning, " that ' Where, oh, 
 
 where, are the grave old seniors,' and that ref- 
 
 407
 
 408 A Princetonian. 
 
 erence to the wide, wide world, in slow time, 
 always makes me feel gulpy, despite the ' by 
 and by, we '11 go out to meet them ' verse that 
 follows it. Lord Harry, just think; there are 
 only two more weeks of it, and then we will be 
 back numbers." 
 
 " You mean latest editions. Terence, 
 you 're losing your sense of the fitness of 
 things," put in Betts. 
 
 " Oh, you 're way off," spoke up Congreve. 
 " It is his non-sense of the unfitness of things 
 that makes him funny." 
 
 " Phew, he 's getting epigrammatic and ana- 
 lytical," said Golatly, trying to reach Simeon 
 with his foot. " That comes from trying to 
 get advertisements for the Nassau Lit. ' ' 
 
 " As an ex-editor of The Tiger, I should n't 
 think you 'd want to bring literature into the 
 question. I '11 leave it to the two other edi- 
 tors. Let's hear from The Princetonian; 
 they 've become real busy since they took on 
 the dignity of a daily publication." 
 
 Charlie Townes and Heaphy were both on 
 the staff of the college paper, but neither of 
 them saw fit to reply to this, so Congreve went 
 on.
 
 Allies. 409 
 
 " You say I 'm getting analytical, Ter- 
 ence," he said. " Let 's go over and analyze 
 some Milwaukee." 
 
 " Oh, it 's too fine here," said Golatly. 
 " Just move about an inch, Pop, if you want 
 to be accommodating." 
 
 " Did any of you fellows go to Tad Elliott's 
 wedding ? " asked Jimmie James. 
 
 Came right in the middle of examina- 
 tions," answered Townes. " I should think 
 he might have set another date. Hear Buck 
 Franklin was his best man." 
 
 " Buck wrote to me he was coming up for 
 his triennial, ' ' said Hart, speaking for the first 
 time. 
 
 " There '11 be a whole lot of last year's class 
 back, too," said Congreve, standing up and 
 stretching himself ; " lordy, don't I hate to 
 leave this dear old hole." 
 
 After some more conversation, Golatly, who 
 had had his feet braced up against the trunk of 
 an elm, succeeded in upsetting the bench, and 
 the whole party adjourned across the street. 
 
 Mrs. Carter had deemed it very strange that 
 she had received no answer from Madge to the
 
 410 A Princetonian. 
 
 letter she had sent by Girard Halsey, especially 
 as she understood from him that it had been 
 delivered. The Hollingsworths' stay at Oka- 
 lilli had extended over a month, and when they 
 had returned to the North they had spent but a 
 few days in town and then hastened to Hilltop. 
 But Mrs. Carter generally stayed in the city 
 until summer was quite well advanced. She 
 had not known of the Hollingsworth home- 
 coming until after they had left for their 
 country place, and of Kenmore she had seen 
 nothing for a long time. She was seated read- 
 ing one sunny afternoon it was really too fine 
 a day to be indoors, a fact she was acknowl- 
 edging to herself when the butler brought up 
 a card. It had Mr. and Mrs. Thadeus Elli- 
 ott's name on it. 
 
 " The dear things," Mrs. Carter exclaimed, 
 and she hurried down to meet them. 
 
 They had just returned from their honey- 
 moon, and Mary looked as happy as Tad 
 looked proud. 
 
 " Oh, do you know that Madge Hollings- 
 worth is in town," Mary said. " I wish you 
 could have been at my wedding just to have 
 seen how she looked."
 
 Allies. 411 
 
 Mary Bliss had that honest, unfeigned admi- 
 ration that some women have for other wom- 
 en's beauty. Unfortunately, owing to the 
 death of an aged relative, Mrs. Carter had not 
 been able to be present at the ceremony in the 
 little church at Orange. 
 
 " I think that Madge was looking rather 
 pale," remarked Tad. 
 
 " Well, it was very becoming to her," put in 
 Mary, in a matter-of-fact way. " You know 
 the bridesmaids all wore pink." 
 
 " I 've got a bone to pick with Madge," 
 said Mrs. Carter. " She never answered a let- 
 ter I wrote her. But I suppose it was nothing 
 of importance." 
 
 " I '11 bet she never received it," said Mary, 
 off-hand. " She never said anything to me 
 about it." 
 
 " I wonder if I could get hold of her?" 
 asked Mrs. Carter, thoughtfully. 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Tad, " she 's go- 
 ing to dine with us to-night. Why won't you 
 dine with us too; just an informal little din- 
 ner " 
 
 " Listen," interrupted Mrs. Carter ; " why 
 won't you all dine here with me ? "
 
 412 A Princetonian. 
 
 " That 's a good scheme," said Tad, surren- 
 dering amicably. " It was Mary's first chance 
 to act as chaperone, but I daresay she '11 fore- 
 go it." 
 
 Well, then, wait a minute while I write a 
 note. I '11 send it off at once." 
 
 Mrs. Carter jumped up and hurried across to 
 her desk. She scribbled away, and all at once 
 interrupted herself. 
 
 Don't say anything about that letter, you 
 two," she admonished, pointing her penholder 
 in their direction ; and, smiling to herself, for 
 she had caught sight of a little tableau, " oh, 
 don't mind me." 
 
 By the time the messenger had arrived the 
 Elliott's had departed, and Mrs. Carter had 
 gone out for a walk in the park opposite her 
 dwelling. 
 
 The dinner went off very nicely, but Mrs. 
 Carter noticed that Madge was looking a little 
 bit thin, although she said that she was very 
 well indeed, and declared that she had the very 
 pleasantest time in the South. As Tad smoked 
 his cigar, Mrs. Carter remained at the table 
 with him, and the two girls strolled into the 
 other room.
 
 Allies. 4 1 3 
 
 "Where's Raymond Danforth ? " Mrs. 
 Carter asked. 
 
 " Oh," replied Tad, in a half -whisper, 
 
 he 's got his final congt, and went back to 
 his first love." 
 
 " Who 'sshe ?" 
 
 Mademoiselle Monte Carlo." . 
 Oh, he 'd have gone back to that anyhow. 
 He was never a. homo domesticus is that proper 
 Latin ? " 
 
 The newly-wedded pair did not stay very 
 long, and when they were alone, Mrs. Carter 
 made Madge sit down on the sofa beside her. 
 
 " Now, young lady, " she said, " I want to 
 know why you did n't answer my letter." 
 
 " What letter, dear ?" 
 
 " Why, the letter I sent to you by our 
 friend, Mr. Halsey. " 
 
 " I never got it in the world." 
 
 " Well, it was n't of much importance, per- 
 haps. But, oh, the wretch for not giving it to 
 you ! I understood him to say that he had de- 
 livered it." 
 
 " What was it about ?" 
 
 " Oh, just some news and gossip; but prin- 
 cipally about Newton Hart. You know some- 
 body has been circulating tales about him ;
 
 4 '4 A Princctonian. 
 
 said he was married, or had been married, or 
 some such nonsense. I just wrote you to tell 
 you not to believe it, if you heard it. I don't 
 know why I went to all the trouble ' Mrs. 
 Carter hesitated. " Yes, I do, too. It was 
 because I thought you might have been inter- 
 ested enough to want to hear it." 
 
 As she finished speaking she looked across 
 at Madge. 
 
 She was sitting rigidly erect with her hands 
 clasped in her lap, but if her face had been pale 
 before, it was so deathly white now that Mrs. 
 Carter started. 
 
 Madge had closed her eyes, and for a minute 
 she sat there, and neither spoke. 
 
 " Had you heard that miserable story?" 
 Mrs. Carter asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, I 'd like to know who started it. 
 Listen, dearie." 
 
 She told the tale that Heaphy had told her. 
 As she went on, Madge settled herself back in 
 the cushions on the sofa. Insensibly the tones 
 of Mrs. Carter's voice had changed from those 
 of a person who was merely reciting a story to 
 those of one pleading a cause.
 
 Allies. 415 
 
 I : 11 tell you what I 'm going to do," she 
 said at last. " You know my boys go up to 
 Princeton for their examinations bless them, 
 I hope they pass I think I '11 give a little 
 surprise party to Newton Hart. He is grad- 
 uated, you know, about the same time. Why 
 won't you come down with me ? Don't say 
 no! Do come! " 
 
 " Yes," answered Madge, " I will go with 
 you." 
 
 There was a little quiver in her voice, and 
 although she smiled, her eyes were filled with 
 tears. Mrs. Carter leaned forward and kissed 
 her on both cheeks, and to her surprise Madge 
 threw her arms about her neck and kissed her 
 twice more in return, and then Mrs. Carter 
 made a remark which was apparently irrelevant, 
 
 He 's a dear good fellow," she said, after 
 which there was a constrained pause.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 AMOR VINCIT. 
 
 THERE was a familiar-looking crowd stand- 
 ing near the lamp-post opposite Reunion, 
 although many of the undergraduates failed to 
 recognize them. There were five in the little 
 party, and they were Ned Bliss, Tommy Wil- 
 son, Manager Bishop, Fred Minton, and 
 Kenmore Hollingsworth. They belonged to 
 an organization that had started with their 
 class, whose members were pledged to return 
 at each commencement and eat a dinner no 
 matter how it was cooked. 
 
 " Hallo, here comes old Buck Franklin. 
 Well, I '11 be shot," exclaimed Tommy Wil- 
 son, pointing down the walk toward the rail- 
 way station, " and if that is n't Pop Hart with 
 him ! ' ' 
 
 " Yai, yai! " yelled the crowd, in a paean of 
 jubilant welcome. Soon Buck, who had grown 
 416
 
 Amor Vincit. 417 
 
 much stouter, was in the midst of the crowd, 
 and Hart was shaking hands to right and left. 
 At last Kenmore caught him by the arm and 
 led him to one side. 
 
 " Pop! shake hands with me." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Did you hear from Mrs. Carter, old man? " 
 
 " Yes, I heard that she was coming down 
 this afternoon. You ' ve been quite a stranger. ' ' 
 
 His manner was not cold, but he appeared 
 reserved. 
 
 " Look here, Pop," said Kenmore. " I 've 
 been everything that you 've thought me, I 
 know. I feel as though I ought to go around 
 the corner with you and have you kick my coat 
 off ; I deserve it. ' ' 
 
 "What for, Ken?" 
 
 " Oh, just on general principles. Look here, 
 I 've got a message for you. Mrs. Archie 
 wants you to dine with her to-night. Those 
 two youngsters of hers are going to be there, 
 and myself, and we '11 have a good time. Mrs. 
 Carter 's mad because you refused her last invi- 
 tation to come to New York. She 's taken a 
 house here for commencement, and I told her 
 I was going to make it our headquarters."
 
 4i 8 A Princetonian. 
 
 The end and upshot of it was that Hart ac- 
 cepted and turned back with his hand on Ken- 
 more's shoulder to join the laughing crowd who 
 were now gathered about the college police- 
 man. 
 
 " Everything is so upset here," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Carter, as she met Kenmore and Hart 
 ascending the steps of the piazza, " that I 
 don't know when dinner will be ready. I don't 
 know what possessed me to think of coming 
 down and camping out this fashion, when I 
 could have been comfortable. I just did it for 
 a lark, you know just for a lark! " 
 
 As she was speaking she had grasped Hart's 
 hand in one of hers, and Kenmore's hand in 
 the other. 
 
 " Billy and Harold have gone off for a walk, 
 and dinner won't be ready until eight; it 's not 
 much past seven now. You know your sister 
 is here," Mrs. Carter went on, addressing Ken- 
 more " Miss Hollingsworth came down with 
 me, you know," turning to Hart. 
 
 A sensation almost of agony came to him at 
 the mention of her name. No, he could not 
 stay here and meet her, after what had passed.
 
 Amor Vincit. 419 
 
 It would be more than he could bear. But 
 what could he do? What explanation could he 
 make ? Suddenly looking up, he saw through 
 the open doorway into the dimly lighted hall. 
 The tall figure of a girl was standing on the 
 lower step of the staircase she was all in 
 white ; perhaps she had seen him and was wait^ 
 ing for him to go before she made her presence 
 known to the others. Mrs. Carter was still 
 talking in the same breathless way. He was 
 about to turn to her and mutter some excuse, 
 when the tall figure raised one hand, and 
 stretched it out arm's-length towards him ! 
 
 He stepped across the threshold, slowly ap- 
 proached, arid took the hand in both of his. 
 Something, he could not tell what, impelled 
 him to raise it to his lips. For an instant it 
 appeared as if Madge was going to faint ; but 
 not one word had they said. 
 
 All at once there came the click of the front 
 gate. It was Mrs. Carter and Kenmore going 
 down the street. 
 
 They were alone. Madge lifted her other 
 hand and placed it on Newton's head. 
 
 " It has been a cruel wrong," she said. 
 " After what you told me and what I said and
 
 420 A Princetonian. 
 
 felt. I should have seen you. I should not 
 have believed, no matter what they told." 
 
 Newton had gained possession of both her 
 hands by this time. 
 
 That 's it," he cried, " no matter what 
 they said, no matter what you heard, no mat- 
 ter what you thought, believe me now ; I love 
 you ! I love you ! For four years you have 
 been in my heart, always in my heart always 
 to be there ! " 
 
 In reply she bowed her head, and kissed him 
 on the eyes. 
 
 " God bless you, dear," she said. 
 
 There was no dinner that night at all. 
 About eight o'clock Mrs. Carter returned from 
 her walk with Kenmore. Two figures came 
 forward to meet her out of the shadow. 
 
 " Well, do you know, that I forgot to order 
 anything at all," Mrs. Carter laughed. " I 
 suppose I 'm crazy. But if you two will go 
 out for a walk, we '11 all go into the kitchen 
 and try and get up some supper. Kenmore 
 and I have been shopping." 
 
 They had some paper bundles under their 
 arms. 
 
 When Hart and Madge returned to the
 
 Amor Vincit. 421 
 
 house they found rather a nondescript meal 
 awaiting them, but Hart was anxious to speak 
 to Kenmore alone. It was very late before 
 they started across the campus together. New- 
 ton stopped near the corner of the observatory. 
 
 " Look here, Ken " 
 
 " Now, if you are going to pay me the com- 
 pliment of practically informing me that I am 
 as blind as a mole, have n't got any sense, and 
 am a general all-around jackass, why go 
 ahead. ' ' 
 
 " No, listen " 
 
 " No, I won't listen; you 're just going to 
 tell me that you and Madge are engaged to be 
 married." 
 
 "Well." He grasped Kenmore's hands so 
 tightly in both his that the latter winced. 
 
 " Well, bless you, my children; that 's all 
 that I can say," returned Kenmore. " Let go 
 my fingers. I 'm going to telegraph the gov- 
 ernor, announcing the fact and saying you 've 
 got my consent." 
 
 Suddenly he looked up and saw that New- 
 ton's eyes were filled with tears. 
 
 " No, seriously, old man," Kenmore con- 
 tinued, " I 'm very proud and glad of it."
 
 422 A Princetonian. 
 
 Newton's reply to this was a joyous heartfelt 
 sob, and arm in arm the two walked on in 
 silence. 
 
 " You know I can hardly believe it 's true," 
 Newton said. " I don't know what I 've done 
 to deserve it. Perhaps I 'd better go to town 
 to-morrow to see your father. ' ' 
 
 " Now, don't be in a hurry about that," 
 responded Kenmore. " Wait until these com- 
 mencement affairs are all over, and then go 
 down and tell him. Keep a stiff upper lip, and 
 remember this, that Madge is perfectly able to 
 answer for herself, and that you always have 
 got me with you." 
 
 " Thank you, old boy. Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 TWO INTERVIEWS. 
 
 THE photograph was back in its accustomed 
 place the next morning. Newton had dressed 
 himself and started out for a walk long before 
 the first bell had begun to ring. He returned 
 to find Heaphy standing by the mantelpiece, 
 gazing thoughtfully at the picture. He looked 
 rather guilty. 
 
 " Well? " he said, expectantly. " You have 
 a shining morning face." 
 
 " Pat," cried Hart, " sit ye down and listen. 
 I 'm engaged to be married ! " 
 
 Heaphy glanced from him to the photo- 
 graph. 
 
 " Yes," said Hart; and then the two shook 
 hands. 
 
 " Do you know what you remind me of ? " 
 said Pat at last. 
 
 " No." 
 
 423
 
 424 A Princetonian. 
 
 " Well, you remind me of a captive bal- 
 loon." 
 
 Hart grinned. 
 
 If anyone cut the strings, you 'd go right 
 up," said Heaphy. 
 
 Newton gave him a slap on the shoulder. 
 
 " Irish, I believe you 've been there," he 
 laughed, to which Heaphy answered nothing. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " he asked, 
 stopping Hart's hurried pacing the room, by 
 getting in front of him. 
 
 Hart frowned a little. 
 
 " I feel as if I could do anything," he re- 
 sponded, with a smile. " She is going to wait 
 for me. Of course we will have to talk it all 
 over." 
 
 "You have that forty-five hundred dollars ? " 
 Heaphy inquired. 
 
 " Yes, safe in bank." 
 
 " Invest a thousand dollars of it with me." 
 
 " In what ?" 
 
 " In the Locala Phosphate Co. I '11 sell 
 you ten shares at par." 
 
 " What's that for ? " 
 
 " Well, we 're going to reorganize the com- 
 pany. To tell the truth, I own most of it, and
 
 Two Interviews. 425 
 
 am going to hang on to it. Will you take ten 
 shares ? Say yes." 
 
 " Well, all right, then; yes." 
 
 Hart was half laughing. 
 
 " Well, now," said Heaphy. " This new 
 company will need a vice-president. How 
 would you like the job ? " 
 
 " Is it an honorary position, or are you talk- 
 ing nonsense ? " 
 
 " Honorary nothing," said Heaphy, earn- 
 estly. " I think the salary will be about five 
 thouand a year." 
 
 " Irish, have you gone crazy? I don't know 
 any more about phosphate than I do about 
 phosphorus." 
 
 " Well, I 'm going to elect myself presi- 
 dent," said Heaphy, sententiously, " and if 
 you and I can't run that company, something 
 will be the matter. Mind you, if you don't 
 earn your money I '11 discharge you. But 
 there 's more to it." 
 
 As his room-mate went on talking, Hart 
 really felt as though he were the younger of 
 the two. He could scarcely control his excite- 
 ment. What would Madge say to this ? " 
 
 ' ' What is the ' more ' ? " he asked at last.
 
 426 A Prince Ionian. 
 
 " Why, just this. When you speak to Mr. 
 Hollingsworth, inform him of this offer, and 
 ' just tell him that you saw me,' then stand 
 off and watch er the effect." 
 
 Perhaps nobody noticed that this com- 
 mencement was different from another com- 
 mencement. The weather was no finer ; the 
 crowd was no larger ; the music no better, 
 and the speeches no brighter. But Hart, 
 as he walked about in his cap and gown, 
 could think of but one thing, and see but 
 one face, and as that face was beside him a 
 great part of the time, people talked, but it 
 did not make any matter to him he never 
 thought of anything except his little world in 
 which he had begun to live. But as he stood 
 at the top of the stone steps leading down to 
 the station and looked back at the old campus, 
 and realized what it all meant to him, what it 
 had brought to him, tears filled his eyes. It 
 was not a farewell to his Alma Mater, it was a 
 parting truly ; it was the parting from a friend 
 who wished one Godspeed, but whose face 
 would ever smile a welcome, and whose inter- 
 est and love would abide with one through life.
 
 Two Interviews. 427 
 
 All the close friendships that he could not buy 
 for gold, all the dear remembrances and asso- 
 ciations they would belong to him, never to 
 be lost. He paraphrased his feelings in one 
 sentence that he expressed to Heaphy, who 
 was standing by his side. 
 
 " It 's not so much what you learn here that 
 counts," he said, " but what is given you." 
 
 " No man ever left here," responded 
 Heaphy, " saying' I am sorry that I came,' 
 but that his Alma Mater could reply, 'And so 
 am I, my son.' ' 
 
 This was not Heaphy's original expression, 
 but a quotation from one of the speakers in 
 the morning's exercises. Sad the lot of him 
 to whom it could be applied ! 
 
 " Hallo, here they come," Heaphy cried, 
 looking back toward the station. 
 
 Mrs. Carter and Madge, and Billy and 
 Harold (who, by the way, had passed the ex- 
 aminations), were coming down the street. 
 Madge and Mrs. Carter waved their hands. 
 Newton jumped down the steps to meet them. 
 Heaphy drew a long sigh and followed him 
 more leisurely.
 
 428 A Princetonian. 
 
 The conversation that took place between 
 Mr. Hollingsworth and Newton Hart was cer- 
 tainly interesting. Thus be it recorded. 
 
 It was not without some excitement that 
 he sent in his card to Mr. Hollingsworth at 
 his office, for he had gone there immediately 
 upon his arrival in town. It seemed a very cold 
 and business-like place to conduct an interview 
 of this kind, but there was nothing for it but 
 to begin ; and he did so with a plunge that 
 almost bowled Mr. Hollingsworth from his 
 chair. At first it appeared as if the elder 
 gentleman was going to burst into some rather 
 strong language expressive of his astonish- 
 ment, but he controlled himself. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Hart," he said, " it is certainly 
 not out of the ordinary, and certainly will not 
 seem strange in such a circumstance as this, to 
 ask a few questions. I know nothing against 
 you. What do you propose doing ? Have you 
 enough money to support a wife ? Have you 
 any relatives or property ? 
 
 " I have none of the former," Newton an- 
 swered, " but I have a little ready money, and 
 a position into which I am going to step." 
 
 " How much will it pay you ? "
 
 Two Interviews. 429 
 
 " Five thousand dollars a year." 
 
 " That 's a big sum of money for a young 
 man to get at once. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, sir; but I shall try to earn it." 
 
 " What is it, may I ask ? " 
 
 " The vice-president of the Locala Phos- 
 phate Co." 
 
 Mr. Hollingsworth arose from his chair. 
 
 " What under the sun are you talking 
 about?" he asked. "Are you a stock- 
 holder ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir; to a small extent." 
 
 " Well, what interest do you represent ? " 
 
 " The Patrick Corse Heaphy interest." 
 
 This time Mr. Hollingsworth could not con- 
 trol an exclamation. 
 
 " Well, I '11 be " but he stopped him- 
 self. 
 
 " Who is this Patrick Corse Heaphy, any- 
 how," he asked; " a friend of yours ? " 
 
 " He was my room-mate at college." 
 
 " Humph. That 's a strange thing." 
 
 Mr. Hollingsworth walked to the window 
 and looked around at the roofs of the sur- 
 rounding lofty buildings. He waited till he 
 3aw that a distant ferryboat in the river had
 
 430 A Princetonian. 
 
 made her slip on the Brooklyn side in safety, 
 then he turned. 
 
 " Well, young man," he said. " You had 
 better come up and dine with us to-night. 
 I am not going to say any more just 
 now." 
 
 This ended the interview. 
 
 Four months later the society columns of 
 one of the morning papers gave this interesting 
 bit of information. It was true, all but the 
 sentence that referred to Newton Wilber- 
 force Hart's worldly possessions. It ran 
 thus : 
 
 " Miss Madge Hollingworth, who was in- 
 troduced into society some three or four years 
 ago, is to be married from her father's country 
 place at Hilltop next Thursday. The prospec- 
 tive bridegroom, Mr. Newton Wilberforce 
 Hart, is a wealthy young Westerner, the vice- 
 president of a large phosphate company in the 
 South. He is a Princetonian, and his name is 
 well-known to all those who have followed 
 football matters for the last three years. He 
 was only graduated this spring." 
 
 Then followed the names of the bridesmaids, 
 and a little " fine writing," but the name of
 
 Two Interviews. 43 1 
 
 the best man was not given. However, it is 
 sufficient to say that it was another Princeto- 
 nian, and his name was Patrick Corse Heaphy, 
 the young-man-with-a-purpose. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 THE UNIVERSITY SERIES 
 
 I. f>art>ar> StOriCS. Sketches of the Undergraduate. 
 By W. K. POST. Fifteenth edition. 12, paper, 50 cts. ; 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " Not since the days of Hammersmith have we had such a vivid picture 
 of college life as Mr. W. K. Post has given us in this book. Unpretentious, 
 in their style, the stories are mere sketches, yet withal the tone is so gen- 
 uine, the local color so truly ' crimson,' as to make the book one of unfait 
 ing interest." Literary World. 
 
 II. U>ale lame. ByJ. S. WOOD. Fifth edition. Illus- 
 trated, 12, $1.00. 
 
 " A bright, realistic picture of college life, told in an easy conversational, 
 or descriptive style, and cannot fail to genuinely interest the reader who 
 has the slightest appreciation of humor. The volume is illustrated and is 
 just the book for an idle or a lonely hour." Los Angeles Times. 
 
 HI. {TbC 3Babe, JB.B. Stories of Life at Cambridge 
 University. By EDW. F. BENSON. Illustrated, 12, 
 fr.oo. 
 ' The story tells of the every-day life of a young man called the Babe. 
 
 . . . Cleverly written and one of the best this author has written." 
 
 Leadtr, New Haven. 
 
 IV. B prinCCtOnian. A Story of Undergraduate Life at 
 the College of New Jersey. By JAMES BARNES. Illus- 
 trated, 12, $1.25. 
 *' it is fresh, hearty, sensible, and readable, leaving a good impression 
 
 of college life upon the mind." Baltimore Sun. 
 
 BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN 
 
 ftbe XeaV>eil WOttb Case. A Lawyer's Story. 4, paper, 
 
 20 cts. ; 16, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "... Told with a force and power that indicate great dramatic talent 
 in the writer." St. Louis Post. 
 
 Datlfc aitO "Ring. Popular edition. 4, paper, 20 cts.; 16*. 
 
 paper, illustrated, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " The best, most intricate, most perfectly constructed, and most fasci- 
 nating detective story ever written." Utica Herald. 
 bat affair IRejt DOOr. Hudson Library, No. 17. 
 
 Seventh edition. 16, paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 "The success of this is something almost unprecedented. Its startling 
 ingenuity, sustained interest, and wonderful plot shows that the author's 
 hand has not lost its cunning." Buffalo Inquirer. 
 
 %00t flfcan'0 Xatie. Hudson Library, No. 29, 16, paper, 
 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Other works by Anna Katharine Green are as follows : "A 
 Strange Disappearance," " The Sword of Damocles," "The 
 Mill Mystery," " Behind Closed Doors," " X. Y. Z.," " 7 to 
 12," " The Old Stone House," " Cynthia Wakeham's Money," 
 "The Doctor, His Wife, and the Clock," "Dr. Izard," 
 " Marked ' Personal.' " 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK AND LONDON.
 
 A Wholesome, Thrilling Story 
 
 
 
 
 /^ "^N 
 
 Dwellers in the Hills 
 
 By 
 
 Melville Davisson Post 
 
 Author of " The Strange Schemes of Randolph Mason," 
 "The Man of Last Resort," etc. 
 
 ^ J 
 
 
 
 SOME COMMENTS 
 
 " Who does not love a horse ? Here is a story chiefly about 
 horses, but not a little about scenery. . . The author's vig- 
 orous style well reflects a man's mature but always ardent pas- 
 sion for nature. Mr. Post's virile, terse, clean-cut sentences are, 
 with appropriateness, printed clearly." The Outlook. 
 
 " Mr. Post has written a story that is fresh and wholesome and 
 quite as full of adventure as the average reader can demand. . . 
 He impresses upon his reader with consummate skill the strong 
 fascinations that the mountains have for men who, like the 
 writer, have spent many years of their lives among them." 
 N.Y. Journal. 
 
 "The ' Dwellers in the Hills' promises to strike a new note 
 in the fiction of our country." Commercial Advtrtiser. 
 
 "It is evidently largely based upon personal experience, for 
 no one could well evolve from his unaided imagination such 
 realistic incidents, so strongly tinged with local color. The 
 dash for the possession of the cattle . . is vividly described and 
 is very suggestive of some of the wild scenes in 'Lorna Doone.' 
 Mr. Post has entered a new field in literature and we trust he 
 will exploit it thoroughly. " Cambridge Tribuni. 
 
 
 2d Impression Cloth, 12, 276 pp., $1.25 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 New York London
 
 THE FOREST SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 By PETER ROSEQGER 
 
 Authorized Translation by Frances E. Skinner 
 
 
 ]\7O better selection could have 
 been made in introducing this 
 
 
 popular Austrian novelist to Eng- 
 
 
 lish readers. It is a strange sweet 
 
 
 tale, this story of an isolated forest 
 
 
 community civilized and regenerated 
 
 
 by the life of one man. 
 
 
 A charming new book. Let none who 
 
 A Human 
 
 care for good literature fail to make ac- 
 
 Document. 
 
 quaintance with the gentle schoolmaster 
 
 N. Y. Times. 
 
 ol the forest. Pittsb:;r- Post. 
 
 
 A;; an exposition of primitive human 
 
 
 nature the book excels. 
 
 Unique, 
 
 Worcester Spy. 
 
 Strong, 
 
 Beautiful and strong, strange and 
 
 Interesting. 
 
 sombre, " The Forest Schoolmaster " 
 
 Buffalo Commercial. 
 
 belongs to the high class literature. 
 
 
 Detroit Fre* Press. 
 
 
 Curiously interesting study. 
 
 Beautiful, 
 
 N. Y. Commercial, Advertiser. 
 
 Strong. 
 
 A pleasing rendering of \!i\^ .nost 
 
 Chicago Times-Herald. 
 
 popular romance of the well-known 
 Austrian mountains. Uutlook. 
 
 12mo 
 
 G. P. Putnam's Sons 
 
 Price, $1.50 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 
 27 and 29 VV. 23d St. 24 Bedford St., Strand
 
 TWO POWERFUL NOVELS 
 
 Sons of the Morning 
 
 By EDEN PHILLPOTTS 
 
 Popular edition ; with frontispiece ; 8, $1.50. Special Auto- 
 graph Edition ; limited to 1000 numbered copies, signed by 
 the author ; with view of Dartmoor ; 12", net . . $1.50 
 
 " ' Sons of the Morning ' is natural and idyllic, abounding in outdoor en- 
 joyments, the bustle of healthy natures, most of whom are so vital that they 
 are unfqrgetable. There is a literary charm in all this, and a felicity of 
 description which is rather felt than evident in any specimen that might 
 be quoted. It is not 'word painting' but Nature itself." RICHARD 
 HBNRY STODDARD in the New York Mail and Express. 
 
 "Here is another of those strong, clean, vigorous stories of Devonshire 
 life such as none but Mr. Phillpotts could give us." New York Commercial 
 Advertiser. 
 
 "The author has a keen sense of humor. His story is eminently 
 readable." Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 " Here we have not only literature, but we have character drawing, 
 humor, and descriptive powers that Blackmore only equalled once, and 
 that was in ' Lorna Doone.' " Chicago Tribune. 
 
 " It is with a sense of wonder that approaches incredulity that we read a 
 book which makes us hark back to George Eliot for its counterpart. Such a 
 book, nevertheless, is ' Sons of the Morning.' "Life. 
 
 Children of the Mist 
 
 By EDEN PHILLPOTTS 
 
 Fifteenth Impression. 8 $1*50 
 
 Special Autograph Edition ; limited to 1000 numbered copies, 
 signed by the author ; net $z.$o 
 
 R. D. BLACKMORK, the author of " Lorna Doone," said of this : 
 ' ' Knowing nothing of the writer or of his works, I was simply astonished 
 at the beauty and power of this novel. But true as it is to life and place. 
 full of deep interest and rare humor and vivid descriptions, there seemed 
 to be risk of its passing unheeded in the crowd and rush and ruck of 
 fiction. . . . Literature has been enriched with a wholesome, genial, 
 and noble tale, the reading of which is a pleasure in store for many." 
 
 EDWARD FULLER, Literary Editor of the Providence Journal said of the 
 volume : " If I were to name the best novel I have read I should unhesitat- 
 ingly put down ' Children of the Mist. ' It has a touch of Hardy ; it has a 
 touch of Blackmore ; and yet it is fresh and original and powerful." 
 
 "A strong, wholesome, delightful tale. A captivating romance." 
 Brooklyn Union.
 
 0f a 
 
 By MYRTLE REED. 12, gilt top . , . $1.75 
 
 " Miss Reed's book is an exquisite prose poem words strung on 
 thought-threads of gold in which a musician tells his love for one 
 whom he has found to be his ideal. The idea is not new, but the 
 opinion is ventured that nowhere has it been one-half so well 
 carried out as in the ' Love Letters of a Musician.' The ecstacy of 
 hope, the apathy of despair, alternate in these enchanting letters, 
 without one line of cynicism to mar the beauty of their effect." 
 Rochester Herald. 
 
 Sate* ^oxrje Jitter* of a Ufcusictau 
 
 By MYRTLE REED. 12, gilt top . . . $1.75 
 
 " It was with considerable hesitation that Myrtle Reed's second 
 volume of a musician's love letters was taken up, a natural inference 
 being that Miss Reed could scarcely hope to repeat her first success. 
 Yet that she has equalled, if not surpassed, the interest of her earlier 
 letters is soon apparent. Here will be found the same delicate 
 fancy, the same beautiful imagery, and the same musical phrases 
 from well-known composers, introducing the several chapters, and 
 giving the key to their various moods. Miss Reed has accomplished 
 her purpose successfully in both series of the letters." N. Y. Times 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 of a grjeamjev 
 
 By ALICE DEW-SMITH, author of " Soul Shapes," " A 
 White Umbrella," etc. 12, gilt top . . $1.50 
 
 " A book to be read as a sedative by the busy and overworked. 
 The scene is laid in England, and is bathed in a peculiarly English 
 atmosphere of peace and leisure. Contains much domestic philos- 
 ophy of a pleasing if not very original sort, and, incidentally, no lit- 
 tle good-natured social satire." a, Y. Evening Post. 
 
 " This is a book of the meditative order. The writer expresses 
 her thoughts in a manner that is a delightful reminder of * Reveries 
 of a Bachelor ' of Ike Marvel. ... In parts it is amusing, in 
 the manner of Mark Twain's ' Sketches.* The combination of 
 humor and sensible reflection results to the reader's delight." 
 Albany Times Union. 
 
 " ' The Diary of a Dreamer ' is a charming treatment of the every- 
 day topics of life. As in ' Reveries of a Bachelor ' and ' Elizabeth 
 and her German Garden,' we find an engaging presentation, from 
 the feminine point of view, of the scenes and events that make up 
 the daily living. The ' Diary ' is one of those revelations of thought 
 and feeling that fit so well into the reader's individual experience." 
 Detroit Free Press. 
 
 <i. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York and London
 
 /Catherine 
 Day 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNA FULLER 
 
 Author of "A Literary Courtship, 
 "A Venetian June" " Pratt 
 Portraits," etc. 
 
 The characters in this novel are 
 Massachusetts people of brains 
 and breeding living in one of the 
 pleasant residential suburbs of 
 Boston. The story begins with 
 the childhood of the heroine and 
 of her chief girl friend and in- 
 timate, who plays an important 
 part throughout the book. The 
 other persons closely concerned in 
 the action arc threenicnofst lonely 
 contrasting characters, engaged 
 respectively in the pursuitof busi- 
 ness, science, and amusement; 
 and a grandmother who, at the 
 close of the story, has attained 
 her fourscore years in the vigor- 
 ous maintenance of the best New 
 England traditions. 
 
 G. P. Putnam s Sons 
 
 New York London
 
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