usk. He squared back his
shoulders and raised his head, widening his nostrils to take in the air,
as his eyes and ears absorbed the other impressions of the place.

Past the stores, the hotels, the moving picture places Andy went, until
he came to where Chapel Street cuts across State. At the corner a
confectionery store thrust out its rounded doorway, and in the windows
were signs of various fountain drinks.

"A hot chocolate wouldn't be so bad," thought Andy. "It's a bit chilly."

He went in rather diffidently, wondering if some of the pretty girls
lined up along the marble counter knew that he was a Yale man.

He heard a titter of laughter and grew red behind the ears, fearing it
might be directed against him.

But no one seemed to notice him, the girl who passed him out his check
making change as nonchalantly as though he was but the veriest traveling
man instead of a Yale student.

"Very blase, probably," thought Andy, with a sense of resentment.

He stood on the steps a moment as he came out, and then walked toward
the Green, with its great elm trees, now looming mistily in the
September haze.

Three churches on Temple street seemed to stand as a sort of guard in
front of the college buildings that loomed behind them. Three silent and
closed churches they were.

Up Chapel street walked Andy, and he came to a stop on College street,
opposite Phelps Gateway. Through the gathering dusk he could make out
the inscription over it:

LUX ET VERITAS

"That's it! That's what I came here for," he said. "Light and truth!
Oh, but it's great! Great!"

He drew in a long breath, and stood for a moment contemplating the
beautiful outlines of the college buildings.

"Oh, but I'm glad I'm here!" he whispered.

Other students were pouring through the classic gateway. Andy crossed
the street and joined them. Already lights were beginning to glow in
Lawrance and Farnam Halls, where the sophomores had their rooms. Andy
could see some of them lolling on cushions in their window seats. Yale
blue cushions, they were.

He passed in through the gateway, his footsteps clanging back to his
ears, reflected by the arch overhead. He emerged onto the campus, and
started across it toward Wright Hall, with its raised courtyard, and its
curtained windows of blue.

"I wonder if Dunk is there yet?" thought Andy. "Hope he is. Oh, it's
Yale at last! Yale! Yale!"

He breathed in deep of the night air. He looked at the shadows of the