on the bed with tousled hair
and shining eyes, he said:

"Cap, if you still want me, I say yes!"

"What's the matter with you?" asked the amazed Sophomore from the rug.

"Nothing!" shouted Walt. "I see the whole thing; uncle's awful
writing--mother got it Phi instead of Rho--she doesn't know one from the
other--his name's in your book. Hoo!" and he sprang on Smith again and
lifted him bodily.

The Chapter had been waiting. Hearing propitious sounds, they came
stringing in, and Haviland's explanation, with the celebration that
followed it, took such a length of time that the longest, lankiest Phi
fell asleep in the parlor and his lamp burned out about two.

THE INITIATION OF DROMIO.

The Initiation of Dromio.

"I know a prof.,--not much to see,--
Take care!
Mistakes are made here frequently,
Beware!"

The Rho fraternity called Walter Haviland "professor." Haviland was one
of their pledged Freshmen. In rushing, a good nickname, gracefully used,
is a great thing. It puts a Freshman considerably at his ease, and
impresses him with the feeling that he belongs to the set.

The first day that Haviland came over to dinner, Bob Duncan, a Senior,
spoke up from his end of the table: "Are you a relative of Lamb, the
botany professor?"

"I have never heard that I am," answered the Freshman.

"Are you in any of his classes?"

"No; I'm not going to take botany."

"If you were, I don't believe the class could tell you apart. Doesn't he
look like Lamb to beat the band, fellows?"

"He's a little heavier than the prof.," suggested Smith.

"Oh, perhaps he is a little," admitted Duncan, "but their height is the
same to an inch, and the facial resemblance is great."

"He can't look much like a professor," laughed the Freshman.

"He doesn't," said Duncan, "they've got him down in the register as an
associate professor in botany, but that's all he has to his credit. He
gets taken for a Freshman right along. New students ask him if he is
registered and what his major is--sure they do."

"They say there was a big farmer who went in to register in botany and
wouldn't do business with poor Lamb at all," said Perkins. "He said he
wasn't so green as he looked, and he knew all about these students who
make believe they're professors and give fake examinations. The
professor was as red as a beet."

"I don't blame him," said Duncan. "Why, the man is married and has two
children."

"Are