Life stretched
ahead of him for one year like a smooth, flowered plain--and then the
abyss. He felt prepared to do nothing at all, and he was not swept by an
overpowering desire to do anything in particular. Writing had the
greatest appeal for him, but he doubted his ability. Teach? Perhaps. But
teaching meant graduate work. Well, he would see what the next year at
college would show. He was going to take a course in composition with
Professor Henley, and if Henley thought his gifts warranted it, he would
ask his father for a year or two of graduate work at Harvard.

College was pleasant that last year. It was pleasant to wear a blue
sweater with an orange S on it; it was pleasant, too, to wear a small
white hat that had a blue B on the crown, the insignia of the Boule and
a sign that he was a person to be respected and obeyed; it was pleasant
to be spoken to by the professors as one who had reached something
approaching manhood; life generally was pleasant, not so exciting as the
three preceding years but fuller and richer. Early in the first term he
was elected to Helmer, an honor society that possessed a granite "tomb,"
a small windowless building in which the members were supposed to
discuss questions of great importance and practice secret rites of
awe-inspiring wonder. As a matter of fact, the monthly meetings were
nothing but "bull fests," or as one cynical member put it, "We wear a
gold helmet on our sweaters and chew the fat once a month." True
enough, but that gold helmet glittered enticingly in the eyes of every
student who did not possess one.

For the first time Hugh's studies meant more to him than the
undergraduate life. He had chosen his instructors carefully, having
learned from three years of experience that the instructor was far more
important than the title of the course. He had three classes in
literature, one in music--partly because it was a "snap" and partly
because he really wanted to know more about music--and his composition
course with Henley, to him the most important of the lot.

He really studied, and at the end of the first term received three A's
and two B's, a very creditable record. What was more important than his
record, however, was the fact that he was really enjoying his work; he
was intellectually awakened and hungry for learning.

Also, for the first time he really enjoyed the fraternity. Jack Lawrence
was proving an able president, and Nu Delta pledged a freshman
delegati