us had modestly avoided; and he fell foul of
young David ten minutes after he had come among us. The two are evidently
the youngest of us, with "college" sticking out all over them, and so
might naturally draw together. But there is a still more natural
antagonism between them, of the thoroughbred for the mongrel. For young
Farnham, in spite of his effeminacy, has the instincts of his ancestors;
and Randall, in spite of a magnificent physique, carries round with him
something that says to David, "Don't trust him!" What makes personality?
I declare I cannot put my finger on the thing that makes me sure that
Randall is yellow; but David has seen it, and has drawn back from it.
Ninety-nine Yale men may slang Harvard, and the Harvard man will take it
in good part--and _vice-versa_; but Randall is the hundredth, and he said
a few things that made David tremble, not with anger but with disgust.
"Have a cigarette?" asked Randall at the end. "No, thanks," answered
David.--"Oh, he doesn't smoke!" cried the other. "I do," said David, and
lit his own cigarette. I'm sorry for it. Probably Randall can make David
pay for this declaration of war. Yet I'm glad too. And you should have
seen Knudsen's eye flash, and then soften as he looked at the young
fellow.

War has been continuing these last few minutes. In the most ridiculous
way David, after his shower bath, messed round with a shaving brush and a
piece of soap, trying to get a lather on his face. Randall saw it first,
and with roars of laughter called our attention to him. Corder, who
instantly understood, quietly twinkled; but Knudsen wrinkled his brow at
the boy. "Have you never done that before?" he demanded. Said innocent
David, "I forgot to get my man to show me." "Your _man_?" asked Knudsen.
"His valet!" screamed Randall, overcome with the humor of the situation.
Knudsen, never having been acquainted with the Harvard Gold Coast, showed
in his keenly intelligent face first amazement, then disgust, then to my
pleasure a kind of pity. In a moment he had both brush and soap in his
hands, and soon plentifully lathered David. The boy then took his razor,
one of the old style, and immediately gashed himself.

With indulgent impatience Knudsen took the razor, sat the boy down, and
muttering to himself that he'd never tried this job before, skilfully
shaved one half of David's face, at each moment explaining the use of the
weapon. "Why didn't you get a safety razor?" he demanded. Th