onight, when I've doffed my scholastic robe and am in my shirt
sleeves--and perhaps I'll tell you, then, the name of that principal."

I did not even bother to do this. Without waiting for further advice, I
went down to this school to beard the foolish principal in his den.

It was a hard matter to work my way into his presence. He had an office
and inner office, and stenographers to guard them both. I wrote on my
card, however, that I wished to speak to him regarding affairs at my
college, and evidently piqued his curiosity to the extent of his giving
me the interview.

In that inner office I found a youngish man whose face was adorned with
a heavy black beard. He seemed strangely familiar, but I could not place
him.

"Come in," he said, looking hard at me. His restless eyes did not leave
my face all the while I was talking.

"What is it you want me to do?" he asked me when I had given him some
stumbling hint of my mission.

"I think you ought to keep Jewish boys out of my college," I told him.
"It--it isn't altogether fair, and it would only provoke a renewal of
the prejudice, if there should be as many freshmen next year as there
were this."

"You are a Jew yourself," he said accusingly.

"Yes, I am. But don't judge by me.... I have always been an exception to
all that prejudice."

"Oh, have you? I wonder why?"

I resented his tone, but went on to explain how I had entered college
long before the antagonism had broken out; had worked hard, with
Christian friends to help me, until I had won honors which assured me
immunity from any unpleasantness.

"I congratulate you," he said dryly. "You no doubt deserve these honors.
Your sort always does."

I stood up angrily and looked him square in the face. Then suddenly I
recognized him.... Pictures of my public school days came up before
me.... The class room and the big, crippled bully, Geoghen.... That
finding of the Hebrew prayer book when the teacher was out of the room,
and the hooting and mocking ... and then the teacher's return--and the
fight.

It was Mr. Levi.

He smiled when he saw that I knew him, now. "I remembered you more
readily," he said. "You have no beard to change your appearance." But it
was more than his beard: there was a complete change in him from the
dreamy, pale young man who had learned so harsh a lesson in those old
days. There was a bitter twist to his mouth. His lips were set sternly,
his eyebrows were lowered, his brow crossed