library was to expose themselves again to the mortification
of the physiological vagaries of Leofwin. So they just stood in the
little hallway. And then, they laughed.

The relief of a thunderstorm on a stifling day is proverbial, as is the
relief of finding one's handkerchief just before one sneezes; but what
are these compared with the flooding joy that comes with release from an
embarrassing situation with a young lady? The effect upon Tom was to
make him excited; more so, perhaps, than he had ever been. It was the
same swelling, throbbing excitement he had felt when, waiting in his
room on the afternoon of his Election Day, he realized by the shouting
of the crowd below that his election was coming.

Nancy was really wonderful. From being curious about her, he had been
swept into the Problem of Living with which he had found her somewhat
pathetically struggling. It had absorbed him in the brief time that he
had encountered it; and now that her first attempt at a solution had
ended in ridiculous failure, she immediately rose above it in laughter!

And how happy was the cause of their laughter, after all. An experience
such as the one they had just come through must make or break a
friendship. Their relationship could not remain the same; and with their
laughter they had sealed the new bond.

They said little as they strolled home, alone, in the clear night. It
had in it the first suggestion of spring; and neither, apparently, found
need to hurry.

"Bob will have to straighten it out at the Mill," said Nancy, "and I
shall write Mr. Sprig. I think we ought to send him something, don't
you?"

They had come to the Whitman gate. It was a high wooden structure,
connected at the top, and in the spring it was covered with roses. The
fanlight in the old doorway shone down the brick walk and touched
Nancy's hair.

"Of course we must."

They shook hands and bade each other good night. And then, as Nancy
turned from him and went up the lighted walk and into the house, Tom
knew without any particular surprise and quite without a rising
temperature, that he loved her.

X

Nancy emerged from her social service work with the feeling that she had
added several chapters to the store of her experience. The sheep-like
expression that covered the composite face of her group had brought home
to her the ineffectiveness of her plan. One couldn't, it was clear, go
down among the masses, no matter how thoughtfully dresse