linor, knew that back in Cambridge
before he was graduated from the university. He had been told that
Elinor liked luxurious living, and he had money--he had told Fenneben as
much in their first interview. Everything seemed to be settled now, for
Joshua Wream had written Burgess the kind of letter only a very old man,
and an abstract scholar, and a bachelor would ever write, telling all
that he had said to Norrie. He made it obligatory that Fenneben should
first give his sanction to the union. He requested also that Burgess
would never mention this letter to his dear young niece, and he
expressly stipulated that Norrie should graduate at Sunrise first. He
ended with an old man's blessing and with the assurance that with Elinor
safely provided for his conscience (why his conscience?) would be at
rest, and he could die in peace. So there was smooth sailing at Sunrise
for many months. Elinor was always charming, and Dr. Fenneben seemed
oblivious to the situation, least of all to putting up any objection,
which, according to brother Joshua, would have blocked the game of love.
There was time now for profound research, the study of types, seclusion,
and the advantage of geographical breath which had brought the Professor
to Kansas, and which he heeded less and less with the passing days. For
he found himself more and more living in the lives of the students. He
had been ashamed, once, of having been Dennie Saxon's escort; and he
never knew when she came to be the one person in Lagonda Ledge to whom
he turned for confidence and aid in many things.

Meanwhile the big boy from the western claim was as surely going up the
rounds of culture as the Professor was coming down to the common needs
of common minds, and both were unconscious then that back of each was
Dr. Fenneben, "dear old Funnybone" to the student body, playing each
man for his king row in the great game of life fought out in
Sunrise-by-the-Walnut.

Toward Elinor, Victor Burleigh seemed utterly indifferent. Even Lloyd
Fenneben, who had caught an insight into things on the night of the
October storm, and had begun to read that new line in the boy's face,
failed to grasp what lay back of those innocent-looking, wide-open eyes,
whose tiger-golden gleam showed but rarely now. Vic was easily the
most popular fellow in his class, and the year at Sunrise had worked a
marvelous change in him.

"You are a darned smooth citizen," Trench drawled, as he and Burleigh
stood in