interference was given to the rest of the Eleven and substitutes, who
had arrived meanwhile. Remsen and Joel left Bancroft together and
crossed the yard toward the latter's room. The sky was bright with
myriads of stars and the buildings seemed magnified by the wan radiance
to giant castles. Under the shadow of University Remsen paused to light
his pipe, and, without considering, the two found themselves a moment
later seated on the steps.

From the avenue the clang-clang of car gongs sounded sharp and clear,
and red and white and purple lights flitted like strange will-o'-wisps
through the half light, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the
common. The lights in the stores beamed dimly. A green shade in Pray's
threw a sickly shaft athwart the pavement. But even as they looked a
tall figure, weariness emanating from every movement, stepped between
window and light, book in hand, and drew close the blinds.

"Poor devil!" sighed Remsen. "Three hours more of work, I dare say,
before he stumbles, half blind, into bed. And all for what, Joel? That
or--that?" He pointed with his pipe-stem to where Jupiter shone with
steady radiance high in the blue-black depths; then indicated a faint
yellow glow that flared for an instant in the darkness across the yard
where a passer had paused to light his pipe.

"We can't all be Jupiters, Remsen," answered Joel calmly. "Some of us
have to be little sticks of wood with brimstone tips. But they're very
useful little things, matches. And, after all, does it matter as long
as we do what we have to do as well as we can? Old Jupiter up there is a
very fine chap undoubtedly, and if he shirked a minute or two something
unpleasant would probably occur; but he isn't performing his task any
better than the little match performed his. 'Scratch--pouf' and the
match's work's done. But it has lighted a fire. Can you do better,
Mr. Jupiter?"

Remsen made no reply for a moment, but Joel knew that he was smiling
there beside him. A little throng of students passed by, humming softly
a song in time with their echoing footsteps, and glanced curiously at
the forms on the steps. Then Remsen struck a match on the stone.

"'Scratch--pouf!'" he said musingly, relighting his pipe. In the act of
tossing the charred splinter away he stopped; then he laid it beside him
on the step. "Good little match," he muttered. Joel laughed softly.

"March," asked Remsen presently, "have you changed your mind yet abou