atress of my destinies. She had declared I must
either come along to the hotel or else I would not be allowed to enter
college. In the face of such an alternative I had yielded quickly. But
there had already begun between my aunt and me a chasm that grew daily
wider, deeper, more hopelessly incapable of bridging. When one has been
away for a year, one returns to find grim truths. I had met other
people, seen other lives and other souls since I had been in boarding
school: I was not clouded now by my blood relationship to Mrs. Haberman
or by day after day of close but unintimate companionship. I saw her as
she was: a shallow, flighty woman whose thoughts were always upon that
sort of society which spells itself with a capital S, whose petulance
found no ease--always restless, always ambitious for petty things,
wanting only what she could not have--an idle woman, foolish in her
idleness.

In spite of her taking it as a matter of course, she spent the whole
day, after she had learned my news, in spreading it about the porch and
parlors of the hotel. She seemed to imagine that it would interest
every one--even Mrs. Van Brunt, the arbiter of elegance of the mountain
clique, who, on hearing it, sniffed, patted her lorgnette with a lace
handkerchief, and inquired if a great many Jews did not attend this
particular university.

"Really, I should not think of sending any relative of mine there," she
sniffed. "Not that I have a prejudice against Jews, of course--in fact,
I consider myself very democratic. I have many Jewish acquaintances.
Many of my best friends are Jews."

My aunt, who had undoubtedly had to listen to these catchwords as often
as any other Jew or Jewess must, attempted not to understand why Mrs.
Van Brunt had spoken them. A few minutes later she made a few unblinking
and pointed remarks about having to attend a convention of Christian
Science workers in the fall--as if to protest that Mrs. Van Brunt had
made a grievous and embarrassing error.

I asked my aunt, a few days later, if I was not to be allowed to live in
one of the university dormitories. Whether or not his college is in his
home town, every boy wants the full flavor of undergraduate life--wants
to live on the campus, to throw himself heart and soul into the college
games and customs. I could not see how college would mean anything to me
if I were to go on living at home in that dull, comfortless apartment
of Aunt Selina's.

Youth is always eage