cool and pleasant in your library.
I'm going to make a confession. When you went off so kindly to find
Professor Kelton I picked up the book you had been reading, and it quite
laid me low. I had imagined it would be something cheerful and
frivolous, to lift the spirit of the jaded traveler."

"It must have been a good story," replied Sylvia, guardedly.

"It was! It was the 'AEneid,' and I began at your bookmark and tried to
stagger through a page, but it floored me. You see how frank I am; I
ought really to have kept this terrible disclosure from you."

"Didn't you like Madison? I remember that I thought you were comparing
us unfavorably with other places. You implied"--and Sylvia smiled--"that
you didn't think Madison a very important college."

"Then be sure of my contrition now! Your Virgil sank deep into my
consciousness, and I am glad of this chance to render unto Madison the
things that are Madison's."

His chaffing way reminded her of Dr. Wandless, who often struck a
similar note in their encounters.

Sylvia was quite at ease now. Her caller's smile encouraged
friendliness. He had dropped his fedora hat on a chair, but clung to his
bamboo stick. His gray sack suit with the trousers neatly creased and
his smartly knotted tie proclaimed him a man of fashion: the newest and
youngest member of the Madison faculty, who had introduced spats to the
campus, was not more impressively tailored.

"You said you had gone to a large college; and I said--"

"Oh, you hit me back straight enough!" laughed Harwood.

"I didn't mean to be rude," Sylvia protested, coloring.

They evidently both remembered what had been said at that interview.

"It wasn't rude; it was quite the retort courteous! My conceit at being
a Yale man was shattered by your shot."

"Well, I suppose Yale is a good place, too," said Sylvia, with a
generous intention that caused them both to laugh.

"By token of your Virgilian diversions shall I assume that you are a
collegian, really or almost?"

"Just almost. I'm on my way to Wellesley now."

"Ah!" and his exclamation was heavy with meaning. A girl bound for
college became immediately an integer with which a young man who had not
yet mislaid his diploma could reckon. "I have usually been a supporter
of Vassar. It's the only woman's college I ever attended. I went up
there once to see a girl I had met at a Prom--such is the weakness of
man! I had arrayed myself as the lilies of the field, and on