CHAPTER VI
ABOUT a week after the opening of col* lege, Hugh returned to Surrey Hall one night feeling unusually virtuous and happy. He had worked religiously at the library until it had closed at ten, and he had been in the mood to study. His lessons for the next day were all prepared, and prepared well. He had strolled across the moon-lit campus, buoyant and happy. Some one was playing the organ in the dark chapel; he paused to listen. Two students passed him, humming softly, “Sanford, Sanford, mother of men, Love us, guard us, hold us true . . .”
The dormitories were dim masses broken by rec¬ tangles of soft yellow light. Somewhere a banjo twanged. Another student passed.
“Hello, Carver,” he said pleasantly. “Nice night.”
“Oh, hello, Jones. It sure is.”
The simple greeting completed his happiness. He felt that he belonged, that Sanford, the “mother
of men,” had taken him to her heart. The music
