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professor rejuvenated by anger.
"Well, his name is Rufus," said the girl.
"But please don't call him so before me," said the father with icy
dignity. " I do not recognise him as being named Rufus. That is a
contention of yours which does not arouse my interest. I know him
very well as a gambler and a drunkard, and if incidentally, he is named
Rufus, I fail to see any importance to it."
" He is not a gambler and he is not a drunkard," she said.
" Um. He drinks heavily-that is well known. He gambles. He plays
cards for money--more than he possesses-at least he did when he was in
college."

" You said you liked him when he was in college."
" So I did. So I did," answered the professor sharply. " I often find
myself liking that kind of a boy in college. Don't I know them-those
lads with their beer and their poker games in the dead of the night with
a towel hung over the keyhole. Their habits are often vicious enough,
but something remains in them through it all and they may go away and
do great things. This happens. We know it. It happens with confusing
insistence. It destroys theo- ries. There-there isn't much to say about it.
And sometimes we like this kind of a boy better than we do the-the
others. For my part I know of many a pure, pious and fine- minded
student that I have positively loathed from a personal point-of-view.
But," he added, " this Rufus Coleman, his life in college and his life
since, go to prove how often we get off the track. There is no gauge of
collegiate conduct whatever, until we can get evidence of the man's
work in the world. Your precious scoundrel's evidence is now all in and
he is a failure, or worse."
" You are not habitually so fierce in judging people," said the girl.
"I would be if they all wanted to marry my daughter," rejoined the
professor. " Rather than let that man make love to you-or even be
within a short railway journey of you, I'll cart you off to Europe this
winter and keep you there until you forget. If you persist in this silly
fancy, I shall at once become medieval."
Marjory had evidently recovered much of her composure. "Yes, father,
new climates are alway's supposed to cure one," she remarked with a
kind of lightness.
" It isn't so much the old expedient," said the professor musingly, "as it
is that I would be afraid to leave you herewith no protection against
that drinking gambler and gambling drunkard."
" Father, I have to ask you not to use such terms in speaking of the man
that I shall marry."
There was a silence. To all intents, the professor remained unmoved.

He smote the tips of his fingers thoughtfully together. " Ye-es," he
observed. "That sounds reasonable from your standpoint." His eyes
studied her face in a long and steady glance. He arose and went into the
hall. When he returned he wore his hat and great coat. He took a book
and some papers from the table and went away.
Marjory walked slowly through the halls and up to her room. From a
window she could see her father making his way across the campus
labouriously against the wind and whirling snow. She watched it, this
little black figure, bent forward, patient, steadfast. It was an inferior
fact that her father was one of the famous scholars of the generation. To
her, he was now a little old man facing the wintry winds. Recollect. ing
herself and Rufus Coleman she began to weep again, wailing amid the
ruins of her tumbled hopes. Her skies had turned to paper and her trees
were mere bits of green sponge. But amid all this woe appeared the
little black image of her father making its way against the storm.
CHAPTER II.
IN a high-walled corrider of one of the college buildings, a crowd of
students waited amid jostlings and a loud buzz of talk. Suddenly a huge
pair of doors flew open and a wedge of young men inserted itself
boisterously and deeply into the throng. There was a great scuffle
attended by a general banging of books upon heads. The two lower
classes engaged in herculean play while members of the two higher
classes, standing aloof, devoted themselves strictly to the
encouragement of whichever party for a moment lost ground or heart.
This was in order to prolong the conflict.
The combat, waged in the desperation of proudest youth, waxed hot
and hotter. The wedge had been instantly smitten into a kind of block
of men. It had crumpled into an irregular square and