ard men in those matters.
They could give any of us points. Those who are of good family and
station know how to protect themselves by reserves that the others
wouldn't dare to transgress. But a merely rich man couldn't rise in
their set any more than a merely gifted man. He could get on to a
certain point by toadying, and some do; but he would never get to be
popular, like Dan Mavering."

"And what makes him popular?--to go back to the point we started from,"
said Mrs. Pasmer.

"Ah, that's hard to say. It's--quality, I suppose. I don't mean social
quality, exactly; but personal charm. He never had a mean thought; of
course we're all full of mean thoughts, and Dan is too; but his first
impulse is always generous and sweet, and at his age people act a great
deal from impulse. I don't suppose he ever met a human being without
wanting to make him like him, and trying to do it."

"Yes, he certainly makes you like him," sighed Mrs. Pasmer. "But I
understand that he can't make people like him without family or money;
and I don't understand that he's one of those 'nouveaux riches' who are
giving Harvard such a reputation for extravagance nowadays."

There was an inquiring note in Mrs. Pasmer's voice; and in the
syringa-scented obscurity, which protected the ladies from the
expression of each other's faces, Mrs. Saintsbury gave a little laugh
of intelligence, to which Mrs. Pasmer responded by a murmur of humorous
enjoyment at being understood.

"Oh no! He isn't one of those. But the Maverings have plenty of money,"
said Mrs. Saintsbury, "and Dan's been very free with it, though not
lavish. And he came here with a reputation for popularity from a very
good school, and that always goes a very great way in college."

"Yes?" said Mrs. Pasmer, feeling herself getting hopelessly adrift in
these unknown waters; but reposing a pious confidence in her pilot.

"Yes; if a sufficient number of his class said he was the best fellow in
the world, he would be pretty sure to be chosen one of the First Ten in
the 'Dickey'."

"What mysteries!" gasped Mrs. Pasmer, disposed to make fun of them, but
a little overawed all the same. "What in the world is the 'Dickey'?"

"It's the society that the Freshmen are the most eager to get into.
They're chosen, ten at a time, by the old members, and to be one of the
first ten--the only Freshmen chosen--is something quite ineffable."

"I see." Mrs. Pasmer fanned herself, after taking a long breath.