nt to college to study, and had no sense of the nobility
of "making" fraternities.

"Such outsiders!" she said. "Can't you imagine the sort of a party
they'd have--they'd all stand around and discuss psychology and
dissecting puppies and Greek roots! Phil, I think it would be a
lovely punishment for you to have to join them--to work in a
laboratory all day and wear a celluloid collar."

"Oh, I know their sort; 'greasy grinds' we used to call them; there
were plenty of them in Yale," condescended Phil.

"Maybe they wear celluloid collars--if they do--because they're poor,"
protested Ruth.

"My dear child," sniffed Aunt Emma, "with collars only twenty-five
cents apiece? Don't be silly!"

Mr. Winslow declared, with portly timidity, "Why, Em, my collars don't
cost me but fifteen----"

"Mason dear, let's not discuss it at dinner.... Tell me, all of you,
the scandal I've missed by going to California. Which reminds me; did
I tell you I saw that miserable Amy Baslin, you remember, that married
the porter or the superintendent or something in her father's factory?
I saw her and her husband at Pasadena, and they seemed to be happy. Of
course Amy would put the best face she could on it, but they must have
been miserably unhappy--such a sad affair, and she could have married
quite decently."

"What do you mean by 'decently'?" Ruth demanded.

Carl was startled. He had once asked Ruth the same question about the
same phrase.

Aunt Emma revolved like a gun-turret getting Ruth's range, and
remarked, calmly: "My dear child, you know quite well what I mean.
Don't, I beg of you, bring any socialistic problems to dinner till you
have really learned something about them.... Now I want to hear all
the nice scandals I have missed."

There were not many she had missed; but she kept the conversation
sternly to discussions of people whose names Carl had never heard.
Again he was obviously an Outsider. Still ignoring Carl, Aunt Emma
demanded of Ruth and Phil, sitting together opposite her:

"Tell me about the good times you children have been having, Ruthie.
I am so glad that Phil and you finally went to the William Truegates'.
And your letter about the Beaux Arts festival was charming, Ruthie. I
quite envied you and Phil."

The dragon continued talking to Ruth, while Carl listened, in the
interstices of his chatter to Olive:

"I hope you haven't been giving all your time and beauty-sleep doing
too much of that settlement work,