p———
Bellefonte, Pa., August 28, 1931.
i
i
Of every day
And all the life force that we see; |
To build anew,
To carry through,
And just to live is joy to me. |
Though grief and ill |
My hours may fill, |
I shall not say all life is vain;
In spite of woe, |
And blow on blow,
I shall not think there's naught but pain.
A touch of spring,
A bird on wing,
And now and then a warming smile;
A friend or two,
With trust in yow
These, free to all make life worth while.
—By Joseph B. Strauss.
THE PROFESSOR'S LOVE STORY.
Young Professor Loebler sat in
his office overlooking the campus.
The girls, he noticed, were on their
way to his classroom where, in ex-
actly three minutes by the shapel
clock, he was to deliver one of
popular lectures on psychology. Yes;
from every direction the young stu-
dents of Riverview were Sosverging
in his direction—from Ranford, from
Winslij;, from Banning, from Howe—
girls in red and leather coats;
girls in jerseys and tweeds; girls in
silks and linens.
Now, one might reasonably have
thought that young professor bler
would be pleased to see these tribu-
tary streams pouring toward him
For even he, with all his modesty,
must have known that he had the
favorite course in Riverview College
for Women that year.
But instead of showing any meas-
ure of pride, the yours professor
groaned partly to himself and part-
ly to the bust of Minerva on his
desk. And having laid this immem-
orial tribute upon the dark altar of
remorse, he buried his face in his
hands and groaned again, “I won-
der if she'll be here this afternoon.”
And then, which is also a very an-
cient lamentation, and probably as
old as the human race, “Oh, what
a fool I've been!”
In this, however, a sharp diver-
gence of opinion could be establish-
ung man who had at-
described as a devotee of folly. Nor
is this all. In the lower left-hand
drawer of his desk was the half-
finished manuscript of ‘“‘Conductiv.
ity,” a new exposition of the human
mind in which psychology and be-
havioriSsm were artfully blended-—not
exactly the work, surely, in which
you would expect to find a fool en-
ed
gaged.
“Perhaps,” continued young Pro-
fessor Loebler, looking through his
fingers at Minerva again—‘*perhaps
she won't come after she reads my
letter. I wonder if that letter was
too cruel, too brusque. But
way, she'll soon get over it,”
hastily assured himself; and draw-
ing a line from one of his own lec-
tures: “Dissociation of ideas is soon
followed by forgetfulness.”
He was interrupted by a rap on
his door; and half fearfully he call-
ed, “Come in!" To his relief, how-
ever, it was Miss Koch, instructress
of French—and you may understand
Miss Koch better if you know that
even the young ladies of Riverview
couldn't guess her age, although
more than one of them had indignant-
ly exclaimed, “What? Those two?
n't you believe it! Why, she's old
enough to be his mother!”
But old or young, Miss Koch clos-
ed the door and then advanced in-
to Professor Loebler's office as
though she knew the way. “Ah,
mon ami,” she said, “I saw you pass
my classroom window this morning,
and I said to myself, ‘Helas; he is
not well!” For I do not like to see
eyes so dark and your cheek
$0 Tell me: you are working
too hard on that big book of yours?”
“No, no; it isn't that,” he quickly
he
answered. “I didn't get much sleep
last night; correspondence and one
thing and another.” |
Miss Koch archly shook her fin-
ger. “One thing and another. Ah-'
ha!” she said. “I saw you at the
spring Formal last night, dancing
so often with little Miss McGuinness
and taking her out to see the moon
Hae over the Fiver. Be careful, mon |
ami,” an e shook her finger again.
“She is young. She is r-r-rich. And
there is many a good man finds
himself lost in his wish to see the
moon."
“No, no!" exclaimed the young
| experimented along these lines.
'need not go so far afield.
dom been in better form.
much as he preached it. As a cor-
rective of fear, of anger, of bad
habits, of inferiority, he proclaimed
itt As a guide to cour
straight thinking, to happiness—
aye, even to the regeneration of the
human race.
“Who knows?” he exclaimed. “We
have compulsory inoculation of chil-
dren to prevent smallpox. The time
may come when we shall have com-
pulsory inoculation of the mind to
prevent wrong » How?
am not yet sure. Perhaps by some
form of hypnotic suggestion.
“Munsterberg,” he continued, "nas
have Barden, Understreet, Sault, and
all that glorious com But I
I need
not journey to Heidelberg or to the
Sorbonne. Professor Abrams, un-
der whom I studied at Eli, less than
fifty miles away, cured a number of
his class of poor memories by hyp-
notic suggestion. And once I treat-
ed a roommate of mine inthe same
way for insomnia.”
During the first of his lec-
ture, he kept his glance divided be-
tween his notes and an imaginary
fly on the window across the room,
d that he would other-wise
catch sight of a wistful, accusing
little face which might take his mind
off ev else. But presently,
forgetting himself, his eyes began to
sweep the studious, scribbling, spell-
bound rows before him.
And suddenly he saw her, seated
at a desk near the door. But there
was nothing pathetic, nothing ac-
cusing about her. She was listen-
ing raptly—it could even be said
that she was listening proudly—and
when he caught her eye she smiled
'a little and made a hurried note in
her book.
“Now what do you think of that?”
Professor Loebler asked himself.
“She's taking it well; much better,
in fact, than I had thought she
would.”
Indeed, at a quarter to six, he
was seated at the desk in his office
still thinking how well—how extra-
ordinarily well-—she was it,
when a quiet knock sounded on his
door.
“Come;"” he cried.
The door gently opened and closed
and Miss Helen McGuinness,
Riverview '32, was in his room.
She was, as you have already
heard, a slight figure, one of the
smaller editions of that immortal
masterpiece which even the Great
Author cf All didn't undertake until’
He had practiced on Adam. Her
feet, for instance, were ridiculously
small, and so were her ankles and
hands. But her eyes were surely
large enough, and bright enough, as
she shyly turned frora the door and
walked toward the desk.
“Hello, John,” she said in that low
voice which is one of the signs
every psychologist ought to under-
stand. :
. Young Professor Loebler, whq had
been sitting at his desk. watching
her—as a rabbit (they say)watches
the inexorable approach of the ser-
pent—young Professor Loebler sud-
denly burst into mingled speech and
action.
“No, no,” he said hastily rising.
“You mustn't!
“Mustn’'t what?" she asked, stop-
pi in surprise.
“You mustn't call me John. It
isn't, to say the least, consistent
with college discipline and—er—
well, I think it would be safer if
you didn't do it.”
“‘Safer’?” she repeated with a
gesture. “How do you mean—‘saf-
er ”
“You know what I mean.”
“But I called you John last night,”
ie Sontiavad in a low voice, in which
pain surprise were appar-
ently growing. “Don't you remem.
ber? Don't you remember when we
were dancing and I called you Pro-
fessor and you whi ‘Call me
John'? And later when we went
out to the precipice to see the
moon?"
this time she was advancing
again, her head first on one side
and then on the other as she tried
to make him look at her. But es-
ca, from a situation which he
evidently re as dangerous,
Professor Loebler hurriedly made the
circuit of the desk and sank into his
chair, perhaps the better to rest his
elbows on the blotter and his face
between his hands.
“What's the matter, dear?” she
w! her hand upon his shoul-
der. “Don’t you feel well?”
“You mustn't call me Dear!”
said almost savagely.
“But John dear, that was nothing
to what you called me last night!
Don't you remember that after we
had sat on the stone wall, and you
Young,
dark, earnest, with a deep voice
which could boom at times, he didn't
teach psychology that afternoon so
e, to
he
was one thing—severly austere both peri
“An, that Helen McMonnies
shouldn't know?"
“I a for my conduct last
night,” he shortly informed her,
“and asked you to forget that Ihad
ever told you that—that I loved you. Tree
That's all!”
“But I can't forget,” she quietly
told him. “I've admired you, of
course, ever since I came to college
nearly three ago, but this last
term—you know as well as I do that
—that I care for you.”
“The whole thing's impossible!”
said he, trying to put a hard note
into his voice.
“But why? If you cared for me
last night, why don't you now?"
“The fact remains that I don't.”
“But why?” she asked again.
“You mean—you mean you only
love a girl when you're dancing with
her?"
“Nothing of the kind!" he sharply
protested.
“Then why don't you love me now
the same as you did last night?
Oh, last night you were wonderful!”
she continued in a voice which could
easily be described as registering
subdued rapture. “You said that
one kiss from m lips was worth
more than all e textbooks that
were ever written, and—"
“That is all explained in my let-
ter,” said the poor man.
“But there must be some reason
that you can give me now.”
“Reason. Yes. The very word!"
he almost wildly told her, with a
gesture toward the bust of Minerva.
“Reason had been shaken from its
throne-—shaken by the moon—but at
last it returned, and I knew I'd been
a fool!”
He arose and walked up and down
the room, his eyes darker, his face
paler than before, and yet, with it
all, as striking and me a fig-
ure as you would have found in all
this land that day. The girl watch-
ed him as girls have watched men
‘they have loved since time immem-
orial, and if his conscientiousness
only made him the more desirable
in her sight, who shall say that
she was wrong in this? She drew
a deep breath, partly of pride and
partly of anxiety, and returned to
the business in hand.
“John dear,” she said, “please tell
me why it isn't reasonable toto
care for me.”
“You're too young,” he
trying to speak harshly .
“Oh, but I'm not,” she eagerly
told him. “And anyhow, every-
body knows that in an al oy
the man should be about ten years
older than the girl.”
“Too young,” he sternly continued.
“And too rich.”
“But that's not my fault. Be-
sides, Dad may lose his money any
time.”
“A poor man,” he continued more
sternly than before, “should never
marry a rich girl.
Outside, the chapel clock struck
six. The campus was growing dark.
Professor Loebler turned on the
switch near the door, but ostenta-
tiously refrained from drawing the
shades. In Jide new a Eh whieh
Keo othes tree in the corner and
took his coat and hat off the
Miss McGuinness watched him for a
few drooping moments, then thought-
fully finding her handkerchief, she
started to cry as though her heart
would break.
he exclaimed, hur-
shades.
replied,
“Here, now!"
riedly pulling down the
“You mustn't do that. You mustn't
do that here!”
But she only cried the harder.
Distraught, he walked to her chair
and looked down at her with a wor-
ried expression which was not quite
free from pity. For after all (he
told himself) he was to blame for
this. If he hadn't been such a fool
the night before!
“Miss McGuinness, please;” he
continued.
But it seemed that she only
‘cried harder. As he looked
Sov @ nev isie orient of per-
plexity, couldn't p noticing the
tiny curls on each side of her hair,
the creamy whiteness of her shoul-
ders and the back of her neck.
“Helen, please listen to me,” he
said; and hardly knowing what he
was d , he drew up his chair un-
til it nearly touched her knees and, you
seating himself, he
hand upon her arm.
laid his
ery— mustn't cry like this,” he
gently told her.
Suddenly they both grew quiet, as
a preliminary click of the handle
warned them that they were about
toe have company. next mo-
ment the door swung briskly on its
hinges and Miss Koch had entered
| the room. "
Now, Miss Koch in her classroom
in dress and manner. But Miss
Koch dolled up for the e was
some-thing else again—a butterfly
of fashion, say, instead of a grub of
4
“You mustn't
ways think that the sooner they are
learned, the better. 1 was
and saw the light in your window.
| Pon will not forget our engagement
for dinne r this evening at the Bay
“No, no; shan't et,” said
the professor again.
won't be too late?”
“Seven o'clock.
fect hour. Till then, au revoir, mon
lami.” And in a clearer, slightly
voice, “Good-by, Miss Mc-
Guinness. I hope you soon feel
better.”
“Wednesday night,” thought Helen,
as the door closed. “And they have
dancing at the Green Bay Tree on
| Wednesday night” A small re-
flection, you may think, but the last
straw on the camel's back, you may
remember, was no large matter,
either.
“There!” exclaimed young Profes-
sor Loebler, inexpressibly relieved to
find that at last his office was quiet
again. “Would you like me to take
you to your dormitory now, Miss
McGuinness ?"
Helen turned; and whether it was
because of his air of relief (which
did indeed have something comic In
it), or whether it was because of
vagrant recollection of Miss Koch's
earrings (which had been fashioned
like parrots perched on hoops), all
at once she started laughing, and
the more she tried to stop herself,
the more she found herself looking
at Professor Loebler's startled ex-
pression and thinking of Miss Koch's
earrings, and then she laughed loud-
er than ever.
“Please, Helen!" exclaimed the
professor in new alarm. ‘You'll be
hysterical in a minute if you're not
careful.”
The word “hysterical” in his ears
was like a finger on a button, open-
ing shutters and setting intricate
machinery into operation. For hys-
teria, you must remember, is a
branch of psychology; and psychol-
was the corner stone of young
Professor Loebler’s career. In the
treatment of this mysterious mal-
ady, first the cause must be deter-
mined and then firmness used. Well,
he could ess at the cause—and
now for the firmness—
“You stop that! You hear me?”
he suddenly commanded in the voice
of a master. Taking her firmly by
the shoulders, he shook her, though
not too roughly. “Stop it, I say!”
he commanded again, as one would
speak to an unreasoning child. “Do
you want me to spank you?
At that she Nopges laughing.
“There!” he said, unable to hide
his pride in his beloved science.
“You see what ology will do?"
“What?” she blankly asked.
“It cured your hysteria. Profes-
sor Sault’s method. Firmness, and ed
the shock of a threatened indignity.
Just a moment, please.”
He went to his desk and drew out
a scratch-pad. “Making a note of
it,” mused Helen “While I'm
standing here like this, he’ The
thought, the touch of indignation
both stopped as the Kain e of
inspira ente er :
wonder Jon Oh, I wonder"
Now, you mustn't think from this
that the whole conception was com-
plete then and there in her thoughts.
It was simply a seed—a seed which
would grow or not, to tife
soil conditions of chance and cir-
cumstance.
Indeed, the only clear purpose in
little Miss McGuinness’ mind at the
moment was to prevent Professor
Loebler from keeping his appoint-
ment at seven o'clock with Miss
Koch at the Green Bay Tree Res-
taurant and Tea Room. And that
was more than a purpose. It had
practically become an obsession. So
when Professor Loebler had finished
his memo and had turned to Helen,
he found that she was crying again
—not violently, not hysterically, but
just quietly c A
“You know,” she said, “I wish
(sob)— I wish you could make me
Terui ”
her, “is strength will.”
“But I haven't any strength of
will,” she sobbed. “I never did have
any. Oh, if you only knew how happy
made me last night.”
“Please, I tell you!”
“I know, John. I must be brave;
mustn't I? But if you could help
‘me, like your old professor helped
some of the members of your class.”
He stared at her, but a gradual
‘warmth began to color his cheeks.
This, indeed, would be an e€Xperi-
ment worth while, an experiment
worthy of the manuscript in the
lower left-hand drawer of his desk.
And more! Even though a single ex-
ment were only a flicke
(candle in the darkness, get
candles together and you would have
‘a light that might yet illuminate the
world! Compulsory inoculations of
the body. Was it any better or any
i
I call it the per-
|him with a fixed unseeing focus.
i was blank, and just a bit
passing expression
“I've done it! I've done it!” exult-
‘ed the young professor; and although
he glanced for 2 moment toward his
‘notebook, he was afraid to break
the spell by turning away.
| “You hear me?” he asked in a
gentle voice, following the technique
of Professor Abrams.
“Yes,” she said, in a whisper so
low that it was almost inaudible.
“And you see me?”
“Yes.”
He drew a full breath as he ap-
proached the test which would tel
him surely whether or not she was
ready for the next step.
“Give me your hand,” he quietly
commanded. “Now, remember. What
I am going to do next won't hurt
vou. It will not hurt you. I re-
peat: it will not hurt you.” And
taking her little finger he gradually
bent it far, far back, meanwhile
watching intently for any change in
her expression. But if there was
any change at all, she seemed to be
smiling vaguely at him. Certainly
she showed not the least indication
of pain.
“I've done it! I've done it!” ex-
ulted the young professor again; but
hiding his triumph as well as he
could, he continued aloud, ‘There.
That didn't hurt you, did it?”
“No,” she faintly murmured.
Whereupon he arose; and so did
little Miss McGuinness.
“Remember now,” he told her.
“You will do exactly as I say.”
"Yes.
“Last night,” he continued, “while
we were looking at the moon"
“At the moon,” she repeated in a
flat \ vice.
“— 1 didn't tell you that I loved
you.”
“That I loved you,” she repeated
again; and before he could stop her,
she had swayed and fallen limply
into his arms.
“No, no; you mustn't!” he ex-
claimed, trying to stand her on her
feet.
“No, no; you mustn't,” repeated
she, her glance still fixed and un-
seeing, her expression blanker than
ever.
Outside, in the hallway, he heard
Charlie the janitor cleaning the
floors; and, if anything, Charlie was
even a better gossip than Miss Mc-
Monnies. So the professor waited
in silence until the retreating thresh-
ing of the mop had died into silence.
For the second time, then, he tried
to set his limp young burden on her
feet—and for the second time he
perspired a little as he realized that
her legs seemed all at once to have
turned into rubber.
“Here now, you must stop this!"
he commanded, as loudly ashe dar-
‘““Here now, you must stop this!”
sighed she.
Something had evidently gone
wrong. He had told her to do ex-
actly as he said and she had con-
strued this as meaning that she
must say exactly what he said. He
must give her another command;
but first of al he must make her
‘stand up and keep away from him.
, When ie had finished the floors,
‘he would return with his polishing
‘cloths and go over the brass door
knobs, opening each door as he came
to it, to rub the inside hardware.
A nice thing if Charlie opened his
door and saw this semiconscious stu-
dent in his arms! A nice thing, too,
if later his only defense could be, “1
had hypnotized her!" No; clearly
he must get her standing up 2
moving away at once. .
“Wake up!” he y whispered.
“Wake up!” brea she.
And then, indeed, his heart sank
in earnest, and probably something
like a premonition ran over him.
He had placed this girl in a hyp-
notic trance. Suppose now he
couldn't get her out of it—But
whatever he might be in for, it was
clearer than ever that above every-
thing else he must get her standing
up, and away from him.
“You'd almost think she was para-
lyzed,” he groaned to himself.
The word unlocked a memory. In
one of Rickener's h tic expori-
ments, he had cu a fancied par-
alytic by telling him that he was
Ison the famous walker.
“Listen!” he co looking
down at the limp little figure in his
arms. “You are Wilson the Walk-
er; and you are from Port-
' land, Oregon, to Pol Maine.
| At first he thought that he had
‘failed in this, too. That was when
| he had pleadingly added that last
three words. But, her eyes still
| trance-like, her ression blank and
| vaguely bewil
| stood up and started to walk around
| the room. He watched her, mean-
| while mopping his forehead and
drawing deep breaths of relief.
“I am Wilson the Walker, and I
i
‘am walking from Portland,
it must have pure c
as the clock Boished stri
, all at once she.
SE —
| snapping his fingers and giving his
curt commands. Yes, no matter
what he did, she continued her
ceaseless circuit of the room, an-
nouncing from time to time in that
curiously dead voice of hers, “I am
Wilson the Walker, and I am walk-
It may have been the phone u
his desk which gave Professor Lo
ler his next idea. K one eye
upon his peripatetic subject, he put
through a call to old El, for Pro-
fessor Abrams.
“Oh, hello; hello!” he was eagerly
calling the transmitter a
minute later. “Is this Professor
Abrams? Oh! You say this is Pro-
fessor Abrams’ assistant? Well,
this is Professor Loebler of River-
view College for Women. I am ina
predicament here, sir! I have hyp-
notized one of my students—a young
lady—and I cannot get her out of it.
I say I cannot get her out of it!”
He swallowed hard and continued:
“Will you please get in touch with
Professor Abrams at the earliest
possible moment and ask him to
come to Riverview immediately?
Tell him to get here as quickly as
possible. Tell him, please, that he
will find me either in my office, or
possibly walking around the campus
—er—with the subject. I say with
the subject, sir; the subject of my
unfortunate experiment!”
He hurried into his hat and coat
then, for he knew that the janitor
would be working on the door knob
at any minute. And taking little
Miss McGuinness by the arm, he
started down the corridor and
straightway came face to face with
Charlie at the top of the stairs, a
can of metal polish in one of his
hands, a strip of outing flannel in
the other.
“Oh, good evening, Charles,” said
young Professor Loebler.
“Good evening, sir,” said Charlie,
his glance, however, full on Helen.
“I'm Wilson the Walker,” she told
him in her listless monotone, “and
I'm walking from Portland—"
“Yes, yes; come on,” quickly in-
terrupted the professor; and although
he pretended not to notice it, he
knew that Charlie was watching
them down the stairs, watching with
eyes which almost stuck from his
head like those of a crab.
Around the campus, then. they
started together—Professor Loebler
and she who said she was Wilson the
Walker. Past Ranford, Winslip,
Banning, and Howe. Down Benham,
Avenue and around by Mohegan; in
past the Sym again. Then past
ord, Winslip, Banning, and Howe.
“Fifty miles to Eli,” thought the
Professor once. “And I telephoned
Abrams at half past six. If he gets
my m e before seven o'clock,
he ought tobe here by nine. I
think we can manage to keep walk-
ing till then.”
So padt Ranford. Past Winslip.
Past ing. And just as they
came to Howe, the clock in the
chapel tower struck seven. It was
seven o'clock, you may remember,
when Professor Loebler had promis-
ed to meet Miss Koch at the Green
Bay Tree; and although, of course,
idence,
, Wil
son the Walker almost had a dance
to his step. It was just at this
moment, too, that they met Charlie
again—on his way to the refec—-
and he nearly fell over a coping, he
stared at them so.
“He's probably been watching us
through the windows of Thayer,
i ing young Professor Loeble
darkly. “Heaven only knows what
ory. he'll spread!”
% reached the corner of Ben:
ham Walk; but when they shoulc
have turned to the right, little Mis:
McGuinness resolutely turned to the
left.
“No' this way,” she said in he
flat far-away voice. “I'm walking
east, and this is east. I can tell Iy
the stars.”
“That's right,” he said, marvelin;
to himself. ‘“‘But we can't go ver:
far this way, because of the river.
“Then we'll go as far as we can,’
said she.
So presently they came to th
precipice, and the bench upon th
pice—the very bench where h
told her the night before hov
much he loved her. They seate
themselves—the moon above them
and the lights on the river below.
“Beautiful here,” breathed Wilso
the Walker.
He looked at her-—so small by hi
side; so childlike and innocent an
lovely with the moonlight upon he:
And to think that tomorrow sh
would probably be gosdiped abou
throughout the college--and all be
cause of him! She stirred slight]
‘and leaned forward.
“The back of the bench is hard,
she murmured.
He placed his arm behind her an
when she sank back it, sk
found his hand and pressed it bi
neath her own small palm
e880) had told me how the moon was learning. Not that she was in dec- Oregon, a .
Booting ie hat iss snd baw any mies away | oleie bf cours or sporting u tran; worse Uh compulsory nocuaton 1 EUR MARE, 108 4 00 und ne near her Shin
| e interru er vi |or : ? | . I e,
i I rs around in Ploy Ni you get simply in one of the new long dres- “You mean you would like me to Once, deviating from her Sousss, on a bet. A
Miss Helen McGuinness, Riverview my letter this mo 2” he de- ses—all black silk and black lace, help you (if T can) by hypnotic She would have fallen over a ¢ ,
“And all my fault. Never min
’ in time. |
if he hadn't moved it just ‘you'll be all right soon.”
on? he as uite erly. |
“Yes,” she $ ako “Just | “That's enough of this,” he quick-
'32, to me.” | manded, though not too loudly, be. with slippers sod o silver scarf and |
\ rred. “Ah, cause he never knew who migh ver earrings, an unmistake- | f
a Os Rw you Al | in the hallway. |able touch of makeup on her to make me forget that I care for | ly told himself. It ne biulges nd | a Slowly SS Eel;
so, John—for your sake, of course, “What letter?” the girl question- cheeks and lips and eyelids. | you so much. Because I do care for herself or something 2 though of its own volition, his ar
I am speaking. For one thing, she ed, seating herself. “Oh, she exclaimed, checking her- | you, dear, and surely you can”t blame | a A, | tio To
js much too young. She would “What letter?” Why, the one I self near the door and in the | me after last night, and if you could he began snapping his Anger . Jere! ” Srinep Sr wir tig:
keep you rone.y upset. In wrote last night! Or this morning, scene with rounded eyes. “I didn't just get the whole thing right out | Wake OD lke 2 he Moy 3 Tha , eard :
time, perhaps, you will take the rather. As a matter of fact, I was know that you were so busy, pro- |of my mind—— use oo EID Tow. "gyi Ey 2 looked dows at. ©
fatal step, as Corneille calls it. But writing it from two o'clock till five.” | fessor.” | After all, why not? Musterburg “I am n Waker die Dressatly Be iockes down ot 8
when you do, it should be with “What a nice long letter!” she Helen the Young quickly arose, had done it. Barden, Sault, Under- told him, continuing inexor e| Sue le
someone more mature; someone who beamed. ‘and walking to one of the windows street, Rickener had experimented | circuit of the room. “And I'm walk- | igs A pn XK. ag
can help you, and not hinder you, “Not at all though
Just three |she raised the shade and stood there |t00. And Professor Abrams, he had ing—" | ;
with your work.” |but the most difficult three pages I staring out, her handkerchief sur. been told, was now holding regular _ ‘Here; stop it! Wake up! Stop | ¢d up. Hep face ie Jathed wi
The clock in the chapel began to ever wrote in my life.” | reptitiously touching her eyes. “In clinics before his class at El, less that, Miss McGuinness! Wake up, I Lie un YAO i Es mR 2
strike four: and Professor Loebler “And you say it was for me?” her black lace and everything— | than fifty miles away, curing im-| Say: Jere SP ae Jo Te
abruptly arose, gathering together “Yes.” {damn her!” she wickedly thought to aginary disorders of patients sent He stopped, alarmed at the loud- | es) wre To
the books and notes from his desk. “Where did you leave {t= |herselt | “Wouldnt you know that to Mi fron nearby hospital. | |008, him und came in to see what Fl tall you again. I love you!
i “A o | 8 e' ’ : ! |
Bo on I foe the | this Po amir pe eight, | cateh me like this?” But back of purpose and pulling down the shade. the shouting was about! If it should love you better than anything el
i 1"
. “It will only take a minute "ever be bruited abroad that, after in the world!
a and I see 4 harm in or IO, nt Professor Loebler was in the For the second time that eveni
sit over here in front of my chair. habit of hypnotizing girls in his of- 8 tremor seemed to run over lit!
it | her the other two were
attentive little figure which wouldn't have
just So you would be sure to get
reached the corridor from the stair- when you went for your mail
at ten and she
»” i rd of the world.
way below. | minutes to nine. | wo it for o the | McGuinness. Sitting
. ve bie cu es! “Perhaps I had better r-r-retire,” So. Now please relax and look deep- | fice—well, it would not only be the
“There! thought Brolesser Lash: “Then maybe Helen McMonni ps ET ie Te SD The Pl of le nd of his teaching, it would be the | Straight, she looked around her
t it,” she thoughtfully told him. Miss Koch was sa |
Ee rte ne y mingled sympathy amusement— eyes. Deeply now-—Deeply—Deeply.” end of his | ae an
sympathy, you understand, for the How long they both sat there “I know,” he told himself, after a It's all right” h ed b
young professor; and amusement at | looking deeply into each other | few moments’ silent wrestling with eh eat ey assur ‘
the tragic little figure by the window. | Professor Losbler couldn Be sure his davis protien. 2 Te ke her Bt 3a ne i ao - om g
shan’ | lence, Monnies girl's | “No, no; it's all right,” said the when, later, he t re e arm an y her side. ring up,
or ne bo eh 5 have Dn ahs ail was ee | professor Bre. Tish MeGuln, | dutills oh this Stage of the Spun. talc: Tae Suil)y, theh atovod. tp Stance: and OW Jerse over, 3
afternoon!” | campus. | ness ropped about— men presently So e 2d FB
“He a hem he afi though. | wa was in it, John?” ask- about one of her lessons.” a tremor ran over the girl who sat be useless, not only when he had her oar ng te matt womléH
Whether or no it was because he had ed little Miss McGuinness at last,| “Ah, yes, I know. Some of these opposite him. She slumped a little by the arm, but even when he walk-
been emotionally upset, her had sel- | speaking as innocently as before. | lessons are very deeficult, but I al- in her chair. Her eyes stared at ed backward just in front of her, | (Continued on page 8, Col, 6.)
ler, entering his
Through the ‘next. half hour Tomor. |
throug! next ur—Tomor- |
row's Saturday, and we'll both feel For as long as it might take to
straightened out by Monday morn- count five he stared at her in si-
“She often gets my mail and Toomer | whole scholastic career. | utter amazement and said, “Whe
times get hers.”