our old jokes at Belfield, for we had been compelled to hear
its history a hundred times over. It seemed to me, in my youthful
wisdom, odd and pitiful that while we had grown from boyishness into
something better, leaving follies and weaknesses behind us, this man,
almost thrice our age, still studied the old pages of his book, not
reading them with any clearer vision than before, in spite of all his
experience. Why did he not turn the leaf and take a different story?
Experienced in life as I believed myself in those days, I had not
learned then that we halt groping over one lesson throughout our
careers. Although our harps seem tuned for the most various harmonies,
we strike the same chords over and over again in hopeless iteration.

So we got him off the subject, and talked college-talk, and told him
about the probable appointments for commencement. He was one of our
alumni, liked our gossip, and could supplement our stories with those of
the jollier days twenty-five or thirty years before. Harry and I nearly
died of suppressed laughter as he gravely informed us that he had
expected the valedictory, and was served badly when it was given to
another. It appeared a huge joke that this seedy, broken-down man,
without a person in the wide world to respect him or believe in him,
could ever have been justified in any of our high hopes--could ever have
stood in the places we filled now, and, like us, securely counted on
winning the prizes of life.

Then he produced the little white envelopes which he had hitherto
forgotten, and we read that Mrs. Dwight presented us her compliments and
hoped to see us for a social gathering at her house the next Wednesday
evening.

"Miss Georgy's writing," said Harry, putting his down.

"How do you know, you rascal? She certainly does not write to you
usually."

"No, but she writes to a fellow I know," returned Harry, nodding toward
the next room. We all abated our tones now, and talked softly about
Georgy, not wishing Jack to hear. Mr. Lenox was always eloquent upon
this theme. He had brought her up to town himself three days before, and
the Dwights were charmed with her--could not do enough for her. She was
the one success of his life, and no wonder she was precious to him. A
good deal of his ready money had gone into her outfit, which must be
suitable for an aristocratic house and Easter gayeties, and he had put
off getting a new coat until his stock was ripe for harvest. The Dwights