had promised me to
try. Then when you told him you did not like it, why, we worked together,
you see. And it has been so kind of you to go for the hikes when he has
asked you, for you see he couldn't have afforded to go to places that cost
money, dear."

May Langley opened her eyes wide. She had had no idea that she had been
helping. To be sure, she had gone on many hikes with him after the geology
class had thrown them together. And she had enjoyed it, too, for he was
such good company. Always courteous, always hunting for ways to make the
trip more worth while and always good natured, no matter what the weather,
he had been a companion worth while.

So she stood and talked with the mother and son for a moment. How sweet
the mother was and how proud he was of her! It was a joy to watch them.

Suddenly he spied the bit of forget-me-not.

"Ah," he said, "I had nearly forgotten to speak of them. I passed a brook
lined with them just before time for the mail train to pass the station,
so I just hopped out of the car, emptied my lunch from the box and sent
them to you. But I never dreamed you would get them in time to wear them.
Maybe the little flowers will tell you that I am hoping you are going to
remember our happy days here after we leave the campus. I want much to
feel that you have a little interest in me. I have told mother much about
you, for mother and I have no secrets. May I write to you sometimes?"

Just then the bell rang for the line to form and she hurried away, while
he took his mother into the chapel. All afternoon they were busy and there
was little time to think. But when May came to dress for the ball in the
evening, she stood long before the flowers on the table. Then a sprig of
the forget-me-not went into her hair and a bunch was fastened to her belt.
And when he asked her for her answer as they stood on the veranda of the
fraternity house, she said simply, "I have enjoyed the time spent with
you; I am quite sure that I should like to know you better. You may write
to me if you care to do so."

But under her breath she was saying:

"Daddy Gray is right. The greatest test of a man is not what he might be
to you, but what he is and will be to others. I'm quite sure Gene Powell
can stand his test and mine also."

WANTED--A REAL MOTHER

Mary King sat before the dressing-table in her bedroom holding in her hand
a string of beads--pearls they were, but they showed signs of much wear,
and a