as they used to look. It seems incredible that during a period when so much has happened to oneself, nothing apparent should have happened to the University. On the other hand, should anything apparent have happened—a new dormitory rising where once was a vacant lot, a remembered tree cut down—one is highly indignant and cries forth anathemas indicative of a secret feeling that one should at least have been consulted beforehand.
"Here's Prexy's house!"
"Why, he's put on a new porch, the old son-of—a-gun!"
"Look—look there, will you—the Gamma Gammas are building an addition"
"The hell they are!"
"Law school looks just the same"
The roadster journeyed through Campus Street, the four heads jerking from side to side attentively. Though it was by this time something after midnight, the dormitories and fraternity houses that lined the thoroughfare were lively with light and moving figures. "Bed? Who thinks of bed on a night like this?" commented Pink.
Jock at the wheel said little. He was staring off over the tree-shaded green that centered this collegiate world, a green criss-crossed with pathways along which the entire student body trudged daily en route from room to classroom and back again. "Think what it means!" he meditated, stirred. "Hundreds of years it's been there—thousands and thousands of forgotten footsteps—" A line he had read once came back to him: "Where endlessly the dead go up and down"
The voice of Dopey Lane seized upon him like a rude hand and wrenched him from these reveries. "Ladies and gentlemen," he chanted, "on your right we have the
