his department, on the campus and everywhere he ventured,
he found things still worse. There was something wrong with him, with
his fresh complexion, with his hair, with the way he wore his tie,
with the cut of his clothes. In fact, there was nothing right about
him. He had been so beset that he could not think of anything but
himself. One day, while sauntering along a campus path, with his hands
in his pockets, he met two students coming toward him. They went to
right and left, and, jerking his hands from his pockets, roared in
each ear, "How dare you walk with your hands in your pockets!"

Another day, on the library step, he encountered a handsome bareheaded
youth with a fine, clean-cut face and keen eyes, who showed the true
stamp of the great university.

"Here," he said, sharply, "aren't you a freshman?"

"Why--yes," confessed Ken.

"I see you have your trousers turned up at the bottom."

"Yes--so I have." For the life of him Ken could not understand why
that simple fact seemed a crime, but so it was.

"Turn them down!" ordered the student.

Ken looked into the stern face and flashing eyes of his tormentor,
and then meekly did as he had been commanded.

"Boy, I've saved your life. We murder freshmen here for that,"
said the student, and then passed on up the steps.

In the beginning it was such incidents as these that had bewildered Ken.
He passed from surprise to anger, and vowed he would have something to
say to these upper-classmen. But when the opportunity came Ken always
felt so little and mean that he could not retaliate. This made him
furious. He had not been in college two weeks before he could distinguish
the sophomores from the seniors by the look on their faces. He hated the
sneering "Sophs," and felt rising in him the desire to fight. But he
both feared and admired seniors. They seemed so aloof, so far above
him. He was in awe of them, and had a hopeless longing to be like
them. And as for the freshmen, it took no second glance for Ken to
pick them out. They were of two kinds--those who banded together in
crowds and went about yelling, and running away from the Sophs, and
those who sneaked about alone with timid step and furtive glance.

Ken was one of these lonesome freshmen. He was pining for companionship,
but he was afraid to open his lips. Once he had dared to go into Carlton
Hall, the magnificent club-house which had been given to the university
by a famous graduate. The club was for