looking over the slight railing into the frozen ravine below.

Long she stood, until passers-by began to stare at her. She was unaware of this, absorbed in her thoughts and oblivious to all about her.

Pinckney Payne, coming along, saw her, and, as he would have expressed it, fell for her at once.

“Don’t do it, sister!” he said, pausing beside her. “Don’t end your young life on this glorious day! Suicide is a mess, at best. Take my advice and cut it out!”

She turned, ready to freeze him with a glance more icy even than the landscape, but his frank, roguish smile disarmed her.

“Freshman?” she said, patronizingly, but it didn’t abash him.

“Yep. Pinckney Payne, if you must know. Commonly called Pinky.”

“I don’t wonder,” and she noticed his red cheeks. “Well, now that you’re properly introduced, tell me some of the buildings. What’s that one?”

“Dormitories. And that,” pointing, “is the church.”

“Really! And that beautiful colonnade one?”

“That’s Doctor Waring’s home. Him as is going to be next Prexy.”

“And that? And that?”

He replied to all her questions, and kept his eyes fastened on her bewitching face. Never had Pinky seen a girl just like this. She looked so young, so merry, and yet her restless, roving eyes seemed full of hidden fire and tempestuous excitement.

“Where you from?” he said, abruptly. “Where you staying?”

“At Mrs. Adams,” she returned, “is it a good house?”

“Best in town. Awful hard to get into. Always full up. Relative of hers?”

“No, just a boarder. I chanced to get a room some one else engaged and couldn’t use.”

“You’re lucky. Met Bob Tyler?”

“Yes.”

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