han a renegade to his class. He was
constantly giving freshmen correct information about their problems, and
during the dormitory initiations he more than once publicly objected to
some "stunt" that seemed to him needlessly insulting to the initiates.
Because he was an athlete, his opinion was respected, and quite
unintentionally he won several good friends among the freshmen. His
objections had all been spontaneous, and he was rather sorry about them
afterward. He felt that he must be soft, that he ought to be able to
stand anything that anybody else could. Further, he felt that there
must be something wrong with his sense of humor; things that struck lots
of his classmates as funny seemed merely disgusting to him.

He wanted very much to tell Carl about Janet, but for several weeks the
opportunity did not present itself. There was too much excitement about
the campus; the mood of the place was all wrong, and Hugh, although he
didn't know it, was very sensitive to moods and atmosphere.

Finally one night in October he and Carl were seated in their big chairs
before the fire. They had been walking that afternoon, and Hugh had been
swept outside of himself by the brilliance of the autumn foliage. He was
emotionally and physically tired, feeling that vague, melancholy
happiness that comes after an intense but pleasant experience. Carl
leaned back to the center-table and switched off the study light.

"Pleasanter with just the firelight," he said quietly. He, too, had
something that he wanted to tell, and the less light the better.

Hugh sighed and relaxed comfortably into his chair. The shadows were
thick and mysterious behind them; the flames leaped merrily in the
fireplace. Both boys sat silent, staring into the fire.

Finally Hugh spoke.

"I met a girt this summer, Carl," he said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Little peach. Awf'lly pretty. Dainty, you know. Awf'lly
dainty--like a little kid. You know."

Carl had slumped down into his chair. He was smoking his pipe and
staring pensively at the flames. "Un-huh. Go on."

"Well, I fell pretty hard. She was so--er, dainty. She always reminded
me of a little girl playing lady. She had golden hair and blue eyes, the
bluest eyes I've ever seen; oh, lots bluer than mine, lots bluer. And
little bits of hands and feet."

Carl continued to puff his pipe and stare at the fire. "Pet?" he asked
dreamily.

"Uh-huh. Yeah, she petted--but she was kinda funny--cold, you know, and