r they came
to dinner, I made an excuse of studying at the house of another freshman
for the evening, and thus escaped them.

The first month of college was not yet over when I went, on one of those
evenings, to hear an extra-curriculum lecture on the social duties of a
college man. I had expected to hear a fop of some sort deliver dicta on
the proper angle of holding a fork or inside information as to the most
aristocratic set in college. It was that word _social_ that misled me.

Instead, the speaker was a rough, business-like man, rather shabbily
dressed, who heaped fiery anathema upon the idle rich. And he spoke of
the true social duties. He spoke mainly--because he knew most about
it--concerning the opportunities for college men in settlement work.

I had never heard of settlement work before. It was a new thing to
me--and perhaps it was its newness that at first attracted me so
strongly. I waited until the end of the lecture, and joined a little
group of listeners who gathered around the man with eager questions. I
had a few of my own to ask, too--and he answered mine as he answered all
of them, simply, kindly, directly.

The speaker was Lawrence Richards, director of one of the largest
settlement societies in New York. There was something powerful,
magnetically enthusiastic about him--and his face was tremendously keen
and happy.

He was gathering up his papers to depart when he chanced to remark to
me:

"See here, will you come over to my fraternity house with me and talk
things over? We can sit in the library, and I'll tell you lots more
that I know will interest you. We'll be comfortable--and fairly alone."

Mr. Richards, it seems, had gone to my university ten years ago. I asked
him the name of the fraternity. When he told me it, I shook my head, No.

It was the house at which I had had that memorable luncheon--and whither
I was not to be invited any more.

"Why not?" he persisted. "I want you down in my settlement. I want to
show you how you can be of help to us. Won't you come over to the
fraternity house?" And when I again declined, he insisted on knowing
why.

But I did not tell him. "Perhaps some of the members of your active
chapter will tell you," I replied, "but I will not."

He looked at me sharply, and his face grew grim. "I see," he said
warmly. "The nasty little cads. Well, it's harder for me to excuse them
than it is for you--and I'm their sworn brother!"

So I made an appointment