nothing but the seraphic head of Miss McCarty
upon the unspeakable body of the amazon--and then those legs!

For days this centaurian combination tortured him without his being
able to evolve a satisfactory method of removing the blasphemous
poster. A direct attack was quite out of the question, for manifestly
the Tennessee Shad would demand an adequate explanation for the
destruction of his treasured possession. There could be no explanation
except the true one, and such a confession was unthinkable, even to a
roommate under oath.

For two solid weeks Stover, brooding desperately, sought to avert his
glance from the profane spectacle before chance came to his rescue.
One Saturday night, after a strenuous game with the Princeton
Freshmen, Dink, afraid of going stale, decided to quicken his jaded
appetite by an application of sardines, deviled ham and rootbeer.

The feasting-table happened to be directly beneath the abhorrent
poster, so that Stover, as he lifted the bottle to open it, beheld
with fury the offending tights. He gave the bottle instinctively a
shake and with that disturbing motion suddenly came his plan.

"This rootbeer has been flat as the deuce lately," he said.

"They're selling us poor stuff," said the Tennessee Shad, with the
tail of a sardine disappearing within.

"I wonder if I could put life in the blame thing if I shook it up a
bit," said Stover, suiting the action to the word.

Now, the Tennessee Shad knew from experience what that result would
be, but as Stover was holding the bottle he dissembled his knowledge.

"Give it a shake," he said.

Stover complied.

"Shake her again."

"How's that?"

"Once more. It'll be just like champagne."

Stover gave it a final vigorous shake, pointed the nozzle toward the
poster and cut the cork. There was an explosion and then the contents
rose like a geyser and spread over the ceiling and the luckless
ballet dancer who dared to resemble Miss McCarty.

By the next morning the poster was unrecognizable under a coating of
dried reddish spots and was ignominiously removed, to the delight of
Stover, whose illusions were thus preserved, as well as his secret.

Now, the month spent at the McCartys' had strengthened his honorable
intentions and given them that definite purpose that is sometimes
vulgarly ticketed--object matrimony.

It is not that Dink could return over the romantic days of his visit
and lay his finger on any particular scene or any d