e ready for your
diploma--and more. You will be far on your way to the winning of a
Master's Degree."

Vic's eyes widened with a sort of child-like simplicity. He forgot his
hat and the chair arms, and Dr. Fenneben noted for the first time that
his golden-brown eyes matching his auburn hair were shaded by long black
lashes, the kind artists rave about, and arched over with black brows.

"His eyes and voice are all right," was the Dean's mental comment.
"There's good blood in his veins, I'll wager."

But before he could speak further the shrill scream of a frightened
child came from the campus below the ridge. At the cry Vic Burleigh
sprang to his feet, upsetting his chair, and without stopping to pick it
up, he rushed from the building.

As he tore down the long flight of steps, Lloyd Fenneben caught sight of
a child on the level campus running toward him as fast as its fat little
legs could toddle. Two minutes later Vic Burleigh was back in the study,
panting and hot, with the little one clinging to his neck.

"Excuse me, please," Vic said as he lifted the fallen chair. "I
forgot all about Bug down there, and the widow Bull"--he gave a
half-smile--"was wriggling around trying to find her mate, and scared
him. He's too little to be left alone, anyhow."

Bug was a sturdy, stubby three-year-old, or less, dimpled and brown,
with big dark eyes and a tangle of soft little red-brown ringlets. As
Vic seated himself, Bug perched on the arm of the chair inside of the
big boy's encircling arm.

"Who is your friend? Is he your brother?" asked the Dean.

"No. He's no relation. I don't know anything about him, except that his
name is Buler. Bug Buler, he says."

Little Bug put up a chubby brown hand loving-wise to Vic Burleigh's
brown cheek, and, looking straight at Dr. Fenneben with wide serious
eyes, he asked,

"Is you dood to Vic?"

"Yes, indeed," replied the Dean.

"Nen, I like you fornever," Bug declared, shutting his lips so tightly
that his checks puffed.

"How do you happen to have this child here, Burleigh?" questioned
Fenneben.

"Because he's got nobody else to look after him," answered Vic.

"How about an orphan asylum?"

Vic looked down at the little fellow cuddled against his arm, and every
feature of his stern face softened.

"Will it make any difference about him if I get my lessons, sir? I
can't let Bug go now. We are the limit for each other--neither of us
got anybody else. I take care of him,