I must remember I was tired of men. I
wanted nothing of any of them. So instead I said, "Well, then, you know
what car I need to take."

He ignored my remark.

"You had on a yellow dress--let's walk along--and wore purple pansies,
fresh ones, although it was mid-winter. I remember it distinctly. But a
hat and a raincoat today make you look different, and I couldn't get
near enough to you in the woods. I remember there was a medical friend
of your sister's husband there that night, and Will and he monopolized
the conversation. I hardly spoke to you; but tell me, didn't you wear
pansies with a yellow dress one night at your sister's?"

"Jennings? Are you Bob Jennings?" (Lucy's Bob Jennings! I remembered
now--a teacher of English at the University.) "Of course," I exclaimed,
"I recall you now. I remember that night perfectly. When you came into
my sister's living-room, looking so--so unprofessor-like--I thought to
myself, 'How nice for me; Professor Jennings couldn't come; she's got
one of the students to take his place--some one nice and easy and my
size.' I wondered if you were on the football team or crew, and it
crossed my mind what a perfect shame it was to drag a man like you away
from a dance in town, perhaps, to a stupid dinner with one of the
faculty. And then you began to talk with Will about--what was
it--Chaucer? Anyhow something terrifying, and I knew then that you
_were_ Professor Jennings after all."

"Oh, but I wasn't. I was just an assistant. I'm not a professor even
yet. Never shall be either--the gods willing. I'm trying hard to be a
lawyer. Circuitous route, I confess. But you know automobile guide-books
often advise the longer and smoother road. Do you mind walking? It isn't
far, and the cars are crowded."

We walked.

"I suppose," I remarked a little later, "trying hard to become a lawyer
is what keeps your life from being a vacuum."

"Yes, that, and a little white-haired lady I call my mother," he added
gallantly.

"Do you want to know what keeps my life from being a vacuum?" I abruptly
asked.

"Of course I do!"

"Well, then--a little brown Boston terrier whom I call Dandy," I
announced.

He laughed as if it was a joke. "What nonsense! Your sister has told me
quite a lot about you, Miss Vars, one time and another; that you write
verse a little, for instance. Any one who can create is able to fill all
the empty corners of his life. You know that as well as I do."

I considered this n