u haven't sent any of them to
the poetry magazine. You don't want anybody to know that you write
poetry. You're trying to make yourself like fellows that are inferior to
you." Norry was piteously in earnest. His hero had crumbled into clay
before his eyes, and he was trying to patch him together again
preparatory to boosting him back upon his pedestal.

"Oh, cripes, Norry," Hugh said a little impatiently, "you exaggerate all
my virtues; you always have. I'm not half the fellow you think I am. I
do love beautiful things, but I don't believe my poetry is any good." He
paused a moment and then confessed mournfully: "I'll admit, though, that
I have been going downhill. I'm going to do better from now on. You
watch me."

They talked for hours, Norry embarrassing Hugh with the frankness of
his admiration. Norry's hero-worship had always embarrassed him, but he
didn't like it when the worshiper began to criticize. He admitted the
justness of the criticism, but it hurt him just the same. Perching on a
pedestal had been uncomfortable but a little thrilling; sitting on the
ground and gazing up at his perch was rather humiliating. The fall had
bruised him; and Norry, with the best intentions in the world, was
kicking the bruises.

Nevertheless, he felt better after the talk, determined to win back
Norry's esteem and his own. He swore off smoking and drinking and stuck
to his oath. He told Vinton that if he brought any more liquor to their
room one of them was going to be carried out, and that he had a hunch
that it would be Vinton. Vinton gazed at him with round eyes and
believed him. After that he did his drinking elsewhere, confiding to his
cronies that Carver was on the wagon and that he had got as religious as
holy hell. "He won't let me drink in my own room," he wailed dolorously.
And then with a sudden burst of clairvoyance, he added, "I guess his
girl has given him the gate."

For weeks the campus buzzed with talk about the Prom. A dozen men who
had been detected _flagrante delicto_ were summarily expelled. Many
others who had been equally guilty were in a constant state of mental
goose-flesh. Would the next mail bring a summons from the dean?
President Culver spoke sternly in chapel and hinted that there would be
no Prom the coming year. Most of the men said that the Prom had been an
"awful brawl," but there were some who insisted that it was no worse
than the Proms held at other colleges, and recited startling tales i