“Ah, that's hard to say. It's--quality, I suppose. I don't mean social quality, exactly; but personal charm. He never had a mean thought; of course we're all full of mean thoughts, and Dan is too; but his first impulse is always generous and sweet, and at his age people act a great deal from impulse. I don't suppose he ever met a human being without wanting to make him like him, and trying to do it.” “Yes, he certainly makes you like him,” sighed Mrs. Pasmer. “But I understand that he can't make people like him without family or money; and I don't understand that he's one of those 'nouveaux riches' who are giving Harvard such a reputation for extravagance nowadays.” There was an inquiring note in Mrs. Pasmer's voice; and in the syringa-scented obscurity, which protected the ladies from the expression of each other's faces, Mrs. Saintsbury gave a little laugh of intelligence, to which Mrs. Pasmer responded by a murmur of humorous enjoyment at being understood. “Oh no! He isn't one of those. But the Maverings have plenty of money,” said Mrs. Saintsbury, “and Dan's been very free with it, though not lavish. And he came here with a reputation for popularity from a very good school, and that always goes a very great way in college.” “Yes?” said Mrs. Pasmer, feeling herself getting hopelessly adrift in these unknown waters; but reposing a pious confidence in her pilot. “Yes; if a sufficient number of his class said he was the best fellow in the world, he would be pretty sure to be chosen one of the First Ten in the 'Dickey'.” “What mysteries!” gasped Mrs. Pasmer, disposed to make fun of them, but a little overawed all the same. “What in the world is the 'Dickey'?” “It's the society that the Freshmen are the most eager to get into. They're chosen, ten at a time, by the old members, and to be one of the first ten--the only Freshmen chosen--is something quite ineffable.” “I see.” Mrs. Pasmer fanned herself, after taking a long breath. “And when he had got into the------” “Then it would depend upon himself, how he spent his money, and all that, and what sort of society success he was in Boston. That has a great deal to do with it from the first. Then another thing is caution--discreetness; not saying anything censorious or critical of other men, no matter what they do. And Dan Mavering is the perfection of prudence, because he's the perfection of good-nature.” Mrs. Pasmer had apparently got all of these facts that she could digest. “And who are the Maverings?” “Why, it's an old Boston name--” “It's too old, isn't it? Like Pasmer. There are no Maverings in Boston that I ever heard of.” “No; the name's quite died out just here, I believe: but it's old, and it bids fair to be replated at Ponkwasset Falls.” “At Ponk--” “That's where they have their mills, or factories, or shops, or whatever institution they make wall-paper in.”