As he tore down the long flight of steps, Lloyd Fenneben caught sight of a child on the level campus running toward him as fast as its fat little legs could toddle. Two minutes later Vic Burleigh was back in the study, panting and hot, with the little one clinging to his neck. “Excuse me, please,” Vic said as he lifted the fallen chair. “I forgot all about Bug down there, and the widow Bull”--he gave a half-smile--“was wriggling around trying to find her mate, and scared him. He's too little to be left alone, anyhow.” Bug was a sturdy, stubby three-year-old, or less, dimpled and brown, with big dark eyes and a tangle of soft little red-brown ringlets. As Vic seated himself, Bug perched on the arm of the chair inside of the big boy's encircling arm. “Who is your friend? Is he your brother?” asked the Dean. “No. He's no relation. I don't know anything about him, except that his name is Buler. Bug Buler, he says.” Little Bug put up a chubby brown hand loving-wise to Vic Burleigh's brown cheek, and, looking straight at Dr. Fenneben with wide serious eyes, he asked, “Is you dood to Vic?” “Yes, indeed,” replied the Dean. “Nen, I like you fornever,” Bug declared, shutting his lips so tightly that his checks puffed. “How do you happen to have this child here, Burleigh?” questioned Fenneben. “Because he's got nobody else to look after him,” answered Vic. “How about an orphan asylum?” Vic looked down at the little fellow cuddled against his arm, and every feature of his stern face softened. “Will it make any difference about him if I get my lessons, sir? I can't let Bug go now. We are the limit for each other--neither of us got anybody else. I take care of him, but he keeps me from getting too coarse and rough. Every fellow needs something innocent and good about him sometimes.” “Oh, no! Keep him if you want him. But would you mind telling me about him?” “I'd rather not now,” Burleigh said, quietly, and Lloyd Fenneben knew when to drop a subject. “Then I'm through with you for today, Burleigh. I must let Miss Saxon have my room now. Come here whenever you like, and bring Bug if you care to.” Sunrise students always left Dr. Fenneben's study with a little more of self-respect than when they entered it; richer, not so much from the word as from the spirit of the head of Sunrise. Victor Burleigh with little Bug Buler's fat fist clasped in his big, hard hand walked out of the college door that afternoon with the unconscious baptism of the student upon him, the dim sense of a fellowship with a scholarly master of books and of men. Back in his study Lloyd Fenneben sat looking out once more at the Empire that meant nothing but dreary distances to the scholarly professor of Greek, and seemed a paradise to the untrained young fellow from the prairies.