short, bulbous-nosed proprietor produced it. Harold tried it on. It fit. He bought it and smuggled it past his parents up into the privacy of his bedroom. There in front of the mirror he again donned it. He smiled. He clasped his hands in front of him and shook them at an imaginary audience as Chester Trask had done. The result was quite satisfactory. Though somewhat more narrow of chest than Trask and handicapped a bit by the thick-lensed glasses he wore, Harold felt that he looked the rôle of the collegian perfectly.
One little detail had been neglected. Harold took a chance and appealed to his mother about this. After some grumbling, she consented to cut out a large red block "T" and sew it upon the sweater. Harold knew that no one who had not been received into the exalted ranks of a Tate varsity team was eligible to wear the coveted "T." But since he did not purpose to exhibit the insignia outside of his own chambers, there would be no harm. Some day, he eagerly told himself, he would go to Tate and earn the right to sport the coveted "T," just like Chester Trask!
As slushy March wore on into rainy April and thence into fragrant May, the subject of the hour in the Lamb household became the disposal of Harold after his graduation from
