o stay at
home, eschew pleasure and devote their highest powers to keeping out of
the way of the young people to whom the world rightfully belonged.

But the sight of old Applegate emboldened me. If she would talk so kindly
to him, why might she not give me one more word? I had no awe of the
professor, and had taken an aesthetic tea at his dismal house, and seen a
weak-eyed, sallow Mrs. Applegate and five lank little Applegates.
Accordingly, I limped across the room to the spot where Miss Lenox stood,
and was rewarded by a bright smile and an immediate air of attention. "I
want to talk to Mr. Randolph," said she, claiming her bouquet from the
professor, who regarded me with a bland smile. "He and I are the oldest
friends, but we have not seen each other for years. You won't mind,
professor?"

He heaved a sigh. "Randolph gets all the prizes," said he good-naturedly:
"it is never of any use competing with him;" and he left us alone.

I had but five minutes to speak to Georgina, but when I left her she had
made me promise to call on her next day at twelve o'clock.

CHAPTER XII.

"You need not tell Jack," Georgy had said to me when we made the
appointment, with a sudden smile and half blush; but I resisted the
suggestion, and told Jack at breakfast that I should call upon Miss Lenox
at noon.

"I am so glad!" said he, "for, on my word, I am too busy to go near her in
the daytime. Tell her I should like to have gone with you, but must dig,
dig, dig, or I shall never pass those examinations."

I have always been glad I was true to Jack in the letter of my actions. As
for the spirit, it is hard for any young fellow of twenty, with ardent
impulses just awakening, to keep it cribbed within prudent limitations.
Georgy's smiles had thrown a sudden illumination into my soul, and I
understood myself better than I had done yesterday. I had hitherto thought
myself a quiet fellow, but nothing to-day could cheat me out of the
knowledge of my youth.

I found Georgy in a little back parlor, the third room of Mrs. Dwight's
gorgeous suite, curled up on a blue sofa in a white morning dress of the
simplest make, and her hair on her shoulders in the old fashion, quite
transforming her from the brilliant young lady she had seemed the night
before. She did not move as I came in, but lay still, pale and heavy-eyed,
and stretched out a little lifeless hand. "I am too tired to lift my
head," she said plaintively; and I, feeling myse