shouldered man from Nebraska. He glanced awkwardly around, declined a cigar, and leaned back in the corner.
"That will do," said some one from the window seat, after the young man from Newark had rambled on at some length ; "let's, let's try what somebody else can do for us." He approached one of the figures seated against the wall.
"Dance, sing, or tell a story. What's your name?" he said.
"My name is James," was the answer. The speaker was a slim, sharp-featured lad with deep-set eyes like a young hawk's. He was sunburned and had a keen air about him. His fingers showed the marks of the base-ball player. "Oh, I say," he replied, "I'm no good at anything of that kind, or I would do it in a minute. Ask some one else."
"Try the large infant in the corner," came another suggestion from one of the visitors. Thus publicly dared, the sophomore walked up to Hart.
"Come, come," he said, "let's see what you're good for. Do a stunt, you son of Anak."
Mr. Hart appeared quite embarassed. It all
