was not allowed
a horse in the country, except my old pony and the basket faeton, to
ramble through the lanes with a choice Spirit, and talk about ourselves
mostly, with a sprinkling of other subjects!

Five hundred and fifty from nine hundred and forty-five leaves three
hundred and forty-five. But I need few garments at school, wearing
mostly unaforms of blue serge with one party frock for Friday nights and
receptions to Lecturers and Members of the Board. And besides, to own a
machine would mean less carfare and no shoes to speak of, because of not
walking.

Jane Raleigh came in about then and I took her upstairs and closed the
door.

"Jane," I said, "I want your advise. And be honest, because it's a
serious matter."

"If it's Tommy Gray," she said, in a contemptable manner, "don't."

How could I know, as revealed later, that Jane had gone on a Diet since
yesterday, owing to a certain remark, and had had nothing but an apple
all day? I could not. I therfore stared at her steadily and observed:

"I shall never ask for advise in matters of the Heart. There I draw the
line."

However, she had seen some caromels on my table, and suddenly burst into
emotion. I was worried, not knowing the trouble and fearing that Jane
was in love with Tom. It was a terrable thought, for which should I
do? Hold on to him and let her suffer, or remember our long years of
intimacy and give him up to her?

Should I or should I not remove his Frat pin?

However, I was not called upon to renunciate anything. In the midst of
my dispair Jane asked for a Sandwitch and thus releived my mind. I got
her some cake and a bottle of cream from the pantrey and she became more
normle. She swore she had never cared for Tom, he being not her style,
as she had never loved any one who had not black eyes.

"Nothing else matters, Bab," she said, holding out the Sandwitch in a
dramatic way. "I see but his eyes. If they are black, they go through me
like a knife."

"Blue eyes are true eyes," I observed.

"There is somthing feirce about black eyes," she said, finishing the
cream. "I feel this way. One cannot tell what black eyes are thinking.
They are a mystery, and as such they atract me. Almost all murderers
have black eyes."

"Jane!" I exclaimed.

"They mean passion," she muzed. "They are STRONG eyes. Did you ever see
a black-eyed man with glasses? Never. Bab, are you engaged to Tom?"

"Practicaly."

I saw that she wished details, but I am n