es of "Here's
to old McGraw, drink her down!" and everybody joined in as fervently as
though it were a hymn. They were not satisfied with it once, but
Doctor Todd himself cried, "Again," and, waving an imaginary cup, led
us off once more into the bibulous and inspiring song.

I remember joining in the first bars, but not because I was unduly
stirred by the love of my alma mater. It was rather to give Gladys
Todd a hint of the rich depths of my voice. To make an impression on
Gladys Todd had become the business of my life. I was glad that I had
come to McGraw, because here I had met her. McGraw's past and future
were of no moment to me; her growth was nothing. She might shrivel up
until I was the only student, yet I should still be happy in my
nearness to Gladys Todd. And what of Penelope? I did think of
Penelope that night as I sat alone in my room, cocked on two legs of my
chair, gazing blankly at the ceiling. I remembered the foolish,
childish promises which I had made to her that I should never forget
her. Of course I should never forget her, no more than I should forget
the moon because I had beheld the sun's dazzling splendor.

But a man's ideas change, I said; his view broadens. And I remembered
Penelope as I first saw her, in her tattered frock and with the faded
ribbon tossing in her hair. I liked Penelope. I thought of her with
brotherly affection. But I said to myself that she could never grow to
the wonderful beauty of this Miss Todd.

CHAPTER IX

I was not long at McGraw University before I had attained my ambition to
be like Boller of '89. I draped my legs in wide folds of shepherd's
plaid; the corners of a purple silk handkerchief protruded from my top
pocket; and as long as the "smoky city" was the proper form I crowned
myself with one of them, and as promptly discarded it for the newer
tourist's helmet, and that in turn for a yachting cap. Must I confess
it?--before Boller left McGraw I had quite surpassed him as a model of
fashion. But my ambition did not end here. The very conceit which had
made me such an insufferable youth in my last days at home was the spur
which drove me to win every honor that could come to an undergraduate.
As Boller stepped out of offices I stepped into them--in presidencies and
secretaryships almost innumerable, into editorships, and even
captaincies. Physically timid, I endured much pain in winning these last
honors. The stretch of rolling turf w