"Why, yes, if Allison does, I will," agreed Leslie, dimpling. "That's all right," said Bryan, turning back to Allison. "Now, what do you do when you rush? You'll have to teach us how." "Well," said Allison thoughtfully, "we generally pick out our best rushers, the ones that can talk best, and put them wise. We never let the fellow that's rushed know what we're doing. Oh, if he has brains, he always knows, of course; but you don't say you're rushing him in so many words. At college we meet a fellow at the train, and show him around the place, and put him onto all the little things that will make it easy for him; and we invite him to eat with us, and help him out in every way we can. We appoint some one to look after him specially, and a certain group have him in their charge so the other frats won't have a chance to rush him----" "I see. The other frats being represented by the devil, I suppose," said the round-eyed boy keenly without a smile. Allison stared at him, and then broke into a laugh again. "Exactly," he cried; "you've got onto the idea. It's your society over against the other things that can draw them away from what you stand for. See? And then there's another thing. You want to have something ready to show them when you get them there. That's where our alumni come in. They often run down to college for a few days and help us out with money and influence and experience. If you've got good working alumni, you're right in it, you see. We generally appoint a committee to talk things over with the alumni." "You mean," said Bryan, drawing his brows together in a comical way behind his goggles, "you mean--pray, I suppose." "Why," said Allison, flushing, "I suppose that would be a good idea. I hadn't thought of it just in that way." "You called Christ our alumnus the other night," reminded the literal youth solemnly. "So I did," acknowledged Allison embarrassedly. "Well, I guess you're right. But I don't know much about that kind of line." "I'm afraid there don't many of us," put in the bashful president. "I wouldn't hardly know who to appoint on such a committee. There's only two or three like to pray in our meetings. There's Bryan; we always ask him because he doesn't mind, and I--well, I do sometimes when there's no one else, but it comes hard; and there's old Miss Ferby, but she always prays so long, and gets in the president and all the missionary stations----" "I should think you'd ask that Jane Bristol," spoke up Leslie earnestly. "I know she must be able to. She talked that way." "I suppose she would," responded the president hesitatingly, looking toward the two ladies of the committee with a half apology. "What do you girls think about it?" "Oh, I suppose she could _pray_," said the girl called Mame, with a shrug. "She does, you know, often in meeting." Then with a giggle toward Leslie she added as if in explanation, "She works _out_, you know."