fraternity?"

"Lord, no! Two-thirds don't belong. The fellows outside are called
'barbs'--that is, barbarians; we on the inside are Greeks. Though, I
must say, very few of us are Athenians and most of us are the rankest
Macedonians. But the worst Greeks are better than the best barbs.
They're the rummest lot of scrubs you ever saw--stupid drudges who live
round in all sorts of holes and don't amount to anything. The brush of
the backwoods."

"Oh, yes--mm--I see." Scarborough was looking uncomfortable.

"The Sigma Alphas'll take you in next Saturday," said Pierson. "They do
as I say, between ourselves."

"I'm ever so much obliged, but----" Scarborough was red and began to
stammer. "You see--I--it----"

"What's the matter? Expense? Don't let that bother you. The cost's
nothing at all, and the membership is absolutely necessary to your
position."

"Yes--a matter of expense." Scarborough was in control of himself now.
"But not precisely the kind of expense you mean. No--I can't join I'd
rather not explain. I'm ever so much obliged, but really I can't."

"As you please." Pierson was offended. "But I warn you, you've got to
belong to one or the other of these fraternities or you'll be cut off
from everything. And you oughtn't to miss the chance to join the best."

"I see I've offended you." Scarborough spoke regretfully. "Please
don't think I'm not appreciating your kindness. But--I've made a sort
of agreement with myself never to join anything that isn't organized
for a general purpose and that won't admit anybody who has that
purpose, too."

Pierson thought on this for a moment. "Pardon me for saying so, but
that's nonsense. You can't afford to stand alone. It'll make
everything harder for you--many things impossible. You've got to yield
to the prejudices of people in these matters. Why, even the barbs have
no use for each other and look up to us. When we have an election in
the Literary Society I can control more barb votes than any one else in
college. And the reason is--well, you can imagine." (Mr. Pierson was
only twenty years old when he made that speech.)

"It doesn't disturb me to think of myself as alone." The strong lines
in Scarborough's face were in evidence. "But it would disturb me if I
were propped up and weren't sure I could stand alone. I'm afraid to
lean on any one or anything--my prop might give way. And I don't want
any friends or any associates who value me for any o