“Mayne Reid. I never read him. Is he good?” “That’s not mine; it’s Towne’s.” “Towne? Harold Towne?” Kendall nodded. Ned reached a hand across the table to him. Kendall, at a loss, took it, and Ned gave him a long, hard pressure. “My poor boy,” he sobbed, “my poor, poor boy!” Then he dropped Kendall’s hand, placed his own hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room. “Quite chaste,” he murmured. “I recognize some of the works of art. That chromo effect over there used to belong to Steve Woods when I was a boy here. And, yes, methinks yon cast-steel engraving was once in my own abode. I sold it to Gus Cooke for fifty cents. We were never friends afterwards. I suspect Gus changed quarters to get away from it.” “I don’t think it’s so bad,” said Kendall. “You don’t――at first. It’s a peculiar picture, that one. I recall that I really liked it myself at first. Then it became a――a sort of nightmare. Well, never mind the picture. Tell me, what are you doing here, Burtis?” “Doing here?” repeated Kendall puzzledly. “Yes, what is your Great Object? Some of us, you know, come to study our way into college, some of us come to meet fellows who will be useful to us in later life, some of us come to play football or baseball and some of us――some few of us, Burtis,――come to Uplift and Better our Fellow Beings.” “I guess I just came to learn things,” answered Kendall with a smile. “What did you come for?” “To Uplift and Better,” responded Ned sadly. “It has been a hard task, however. Still, I have done some good, I have had my victories, Burtis. You should have known Teller Sanford before I took him in hand. It was pitiful, absolutely pitiful.” “Why?” asked Kendall, not knowing whether the other was in jest or earnest. “No sense of humor at all,” replied Ned confidentially. “Intense! Serious! Heavy! Oh, I don’t pretend that he is completely reclaimed yet, but there’s a big improvement. Everyone says so. It takes time.” “Do you room with him?” asked Kendall. “Yes. It was the only way. Constant association, you know.” “I see,” said Kendall soberly. Ned smiled. Then, “Do you know, Burtis, I like you,” he exclaimed approvingly. “You have a sense of humor. One wouldn’t suspect it, though. You’re such a serious-looking chap until that smile gets in its work around your mouth. I daresay that’s the New England of it. New Englanders hate to smile if they can get out of it any way, don’t they?” “Do they?” asked Kendall. “I never thought that. Where do you live?” “Me? Oh, I’m one of ’em; that’s how I know. I live in a little town called Boston. Some of my folks founded the place, I believe. You come from Maine, I think Mr. Collins said. How do you like our school?” “Very much, only――” “Only?” prompted Ned.