ething is lacking in your mind; and, though he
was perfectly bred, he was only about half as pleasant to have around as
a well-behaved hyena.

I never could see what Miss Spencer saw in him, unless it was the
locomotives. As far as we could tell--we never got much chance to
judge--she was a real nice girl. She was a little haughty and never had
much to say, and always acted as if she was a princess temporarily off
the job. But she was a good scout, and proved it at the class parties by
making it as pleasant as she could for the nervous nobodies who took
her; while the yellow streak in Frankling was so broad there wasn't
enough white in him to look like a collar. That's why the whole college
went crazy with delight over the Ole Skjarsen affair.--Last station,
ladies and gents. Story begins here.

When we were Seniors Ole Skjarsen was the chief embarrassment of the
class. As a football player he was a wonder, but as a society
fritterling he was one long catastrophe. He just couldn't possibly get
hep--that was all. He was as companionable and as good-natured as a St.
Bernard pup and just as inconvenient to have around. He dressed like a
vaudeville sketch, and the number of things he could do in an hour,
which are not generally done in low-vest and low-neck circles, was
appalling. However we all loved Ole because of his grand and historic
deeds on the team, and we took him to our parties and never so much as
fell out of our chairs when he took off his coat in order to dance with
more comfort and energy. The girls were as loyal as we were and danced
with him as long as their feet held out, and we made them leather hero
medals and really had a lot of fun out of the whole business--all except
Frankling. It just about killed him to have to mingle with Ole socially;
and when the time for the Senior class party drew near he got so nervous
that he called a meeting of a few of us fellows and made a big kick.

"I tell you, fellows, this has got to stop!" he declared. "We've
encouraged this lumber-jack until he has gotten too fresh for any use.
Why, he'll ask any girl in the college to dance with him, and he goes
and calls on them, too. Now, it's up to us to show him his place. I'm
dead against putting his name in the hat for the party. He'll be sure to
draw a girl who will be humiliated by having to go with him; and I have
a little too much regard for chivalry and courtesy to allow him to do
it. We'll just have to hint to him that