e youngsters if you only would. As it is, they admire you and envy
you and think that it's smart to give all their time to play. I know,
because I heard some of them talking about it the other day. 'You don't
have to study,' said one; 'look at those swells in Hampton. They just go
in for football and golf and tennis and all that, and they never have
any trouble about passing exams.'" West whistled in puzzled amazement.

"Why, March, you're setting out as a reformer; and you're talking just
like one of those good boys in the story books. What's up?" Joel smiled
at the other boy's look of wonderment.

"Nothing's up, except that I want you to promise to study more. Of
course, I know it sounds cheeky, West, but I don't mean to meddle in
your business. Only--only--" Joel hesitated.

"Only what? Out with it!" said West. They had reached the Academy
Building and had paused on the steps.

"Well, only--that you've been very kind to me, West, and I hate to see
you wasting your time and know that you will wish you hadn't later, when
you've left school, you know. That's all. It isn't that I want to
meddle--" There was a moment of silence. Then:

"The idea of your caring!" answered West. "You're a good chap, March,
and--I tell you what I'll do. I _will_ go in more for lessons, after
next week. You see there's the golf tournament next Saturday week, and
I've got to put in a lot of hard practice between now and then. But
after that I'll try and buckle down. You're right about it, March, I
ought to do more studying, and I will _try_; although I don't believe
I'll make much of a success as a 'grind.' And as to the--the--the rest
that you said, why, I haven't been extraordinarily kind; I just sort of
took to you that day on the campus because you looked to be such a
plucky, go-ahead, long-legged chap, you know. I thought I'd rescue you
from the ranks of the lowly and teach you golf and make a man of you
generally. Instead of that"--West gave one of his expressive
whistles--"instead of that, why, here you are turning me into a regular
'Masters Hall grind.' Thus do our brightest dreams fade. Well, I'm oil.
Don't forget the upper middle class meeting to-night. They're going to
vote on the Class Crew question, and we want all the votes we can get to
down the fellows that don't want to pay the assessment. Good-night."

And Outfield West took himself off toward his room, his broad shoulders
well back, and his clear, merry voice singing th