“Whatcha grinnin’ at?” Bob chided Verne as Emma Lou passed out of earshot.
“At the little frosh, of course. She grinned at me. I couldn’t stare at her without returning it.”
“I don’t see how anybody could even look at her without grinning.”
“Oh, she’s not so bad,” said Verne.
“Well, she’s bad enough.”
“That makes two of them.”
“Two of what, Amos?”’
“Hottentots, Bob.”
“Good grief,” exclaimed Tommy, “why don’t you recruit some good-loking co-eds out here?”
“We don’t choose them,” Helen returned.
“I’m going out to the Southern Branch where the sight of my fellow female students won’t give me dyspepsia.”
“Ta-ta, Amos,” said Verne, “and you needn’t bother to sit in my car any more if you think us so terrible.” She and Helen walked away, leaving the boys to discuss the sad days which had fallen upon the campus.
Emma Lou, of course, knew nothing of all this. She had gone her way rejoicing. One of the students had noticed her, had returned her smile. This getting acquainted was going to be an easy matter after all. It was just necessary that she exercise a little pa-
