"Sure," assented Andy, rather glad, on the whole, that he could make his escape. One of his hands was blistered and he wanted to get back to his room and put on some cooling lotion. He would not admit this before Miss Fuller, for he did not want to cause her any more pain. The girl sank back on a couch as Andy went out of the dressing room. But she smiled brightly at him, and murmured: "I'll see you again, some time." "Sure," assented the lad. He wondered whether she would. Then he rejoined his chums and they left the theatre. There was a little crowd in front, attracted by the rumor that an actress had been burned. As Andy and his friends made their way through the throng to a car he heard someone call: "Dat's de guy what saved her!" "You're becoming famous, Andy, my boy!" whispered Tom. "Forget it," advised his chum. The boys reached their dormitory with a scant minute or so to spare before locking-up time, for the rules were rather strict at Milton. There were hasty good-nights, promises to meet on the morrow, and then quiet settled down over the school. Andy went to his room, and for a minute, before turning on the light, he stood at the window looking over the campus. Many thoughts were surging through his brain. "It sure has been one full little day," he mused. "The scrap with the farmer, dousing the sparks on that girl, and--deciding on going to Yale! "Jove, though, but I'm glad I've made up my mind! Yale! I wonder if I'll be worthy of it?" Andy leaned against the window and looked out to where the moonlight made fantastic shadows through the big maples on the green. Before his eyes came a picture of the elm-shaded quadrangle at Yale, which once he had crossed, hardly dreaming then that he would ever go there. "Yale! Yale!" he whispered to himself. "What a lot it means! What a lot it might mean! What a lot it often doesn't signify. Oh, if I can only make good there!" For some time Andy had been vacillating between two colleges, but finally he had settled on Yale. His parents had left him his choice, and now he had made it. "I must write to dad," he said. "He'll want to know." It was too late to do it now. They had not come back as early as they had intended. The bell for "lights out," clanged, and Andy hastily prepared for bed. "Only a few more days at old Milton," he whispered to himself. "And then for Yale!" The closing days of the term drew nearer. Examinations were the order of the day, and many were the anxious hearts. There was less fun and more hard work. Andy wrote home, detailing briefly his decision and telling of the affair of the theatre. For it got into the papers, and Andy was made quite a hero. He wanted his parents to understand the true situation. A letter of thanks came from the theatre manager, and with it a pass, good for any time, for Andy and his friends. In the letter it was said that Miss Fuller was in no danger, and had gone to the home of relatives to recover from the shock.