that there must be something wrong with his sense of humor; things that struck lots of his classmates as funny seemed merely disgusting to him. He wanted very much to tell Carl about Janet but for several weeks the opportunity did not pre sent itself. There was too much excitement about the campus; the mood of the place was all wrong, and Hugh, although he did n’t know it, was very sensitive to moods and atmosphere. Finally one night in October he and Carl were seated in their big chairs before the fire. They had been walking that afternoon, and Hugh had been swept outside of himself by the brilliance of the autumn foliage. He was emotionally and physi¬ cally tired, feeling that vague, melancholy happiness that comes after an intense but pleasant experience. Carl leaned back to the center-table and switched off the study light. “Pleasanter with just the firelight,” he said quietly. He, too, had something that he wanted to tell, and the less light the better. Hugh sighed and relaxed comfortably into his chair. The shadows were thick and mysterious behind them; the flames leaped merrily in the fire¬ place. Doth boys sat silent, staring into the fire. Finally Hugh spoke.
“I met a girl this summer, Carl,” he said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Little peach. Awf’lly pretty. Dainty,
