At seven o’clock Saturday evening every fresh¬
man who had any reason at all to think that he
would get a bid—and some that had no reason—
collected in nervous groups in the living-room of
the Union. At the stroke of seven they were per¬
mitted to move up to a long row of tables which
were covered with large envelopes, one for every
freshman. They were arranged in alphabetical or¬
der, and in an incredibly short time each man found
the one addressed to him. Some of the envelopes
were stuffed with cards, each containing the fresh¬
man’s name and the name of the fraternity bidding
him; some of them contained only one or two cards
—and some of them were empty. The boys who
drew empty envelopes instantly left the Union with¬
out a word to anybody; the others tried to find a
free space where they could scan their cards unob¬
served. They were all wildly excited and nervous.
One glance at the cards, and their faces either
lighted with joy or went white with disappointment.
Hugh found ten cards in his envelope—and one
of them had Nu Delta written on it. His heart
leaped; for a moment he thought that he was going
to cry. Then he rushed around the Union looking
for Carl. He found him staring at a fan of cards,
which he was holding like a hand of bridge.
“What luck?” Hugh cried.
Carl handed him the cards. “Lamp those,” he
