side door of an immense Grecian building located in almost the exact center of the campus. Harold, gathering that he was to alight, assembled his multitudinous luggage and, opening the car door, stepped to the ground. In that instant the Negro chauffeur caught sight of his passenger. The Ethiopian gasped. He seemed to turn pale under his black skin.
"Mah goodness," he cried. "I thought you was the dean. Mah goodness, I'll ketch it now!"
He stared at Harold, torn between anger at the Freshman, of whom he suspected a prank, and fear for the wrath with which his employer would greet him. The chauffeur stepped on the gas, turned sharply around and whirled the car back toward the station.
Harold turned red afresh. He was uncertain whether his youthful guide at the station had put a joke over on him or whether that merry individual had made an honest mistake. Harold remembered seeing groups of students pouring into the building beside which he now stood. Concluding that he had best do as the other Tatians had done, he looked around him and found a smaller entrance almost directly in front of him. After a moment's hesitation, he walked over, opened the door and sauntered expectantly in.
A sign on the brick wall above Harold's
