As I said, Charlie was very young. He had passed his finals with flying colors in the preceding June, nearly two months before his seventeenth birthday, and he was but just seventeen when he began his college career. Whatever may be said, seventeen is too young for a boy to enter college and to be given the large liberties which a boy--a college "man"--has in any of our large colleges. Eighteen or nineteen is a much safer age, especially for a boy like Charlie Ladue. The faults which I have mentioned soon disgusted and repelled the most desirable elements in college and left him with--not one of--the least desirable. Even with them he was only tolerated, never liked, and they got out of him what they could. With them there was no incentive to study, which was a pity, for Charlie did very well with a surprisingly small amount of work, and would have done exceedingly well with a little more, but he needed compulsion in some form. As it was, he very soon got to doing just enough to keep himself afloat. He could study hard when he had to, and he did. Patty had got to work, at last, upon the repairs to her house. It was October before she made up her mind and well into November before work began; and builders are awful deliberate, as Miss Lambkin had remarked. As the work went on, the time when the house would be ready retreated gradually into the future. But Miss Patty consoled herself with the thought that Charlie would not be able to help her occupy it before the next summer anyway. Although she had insisted that Mrs. Ladue and Sally should live there as soon as it was ready,--it was a question of pride with Miss Patty, not a question of her wish in the matter,--and although she was expecting them to live there, it was by no means sure that Sally would consent to come. Miss Patty did not trouble herself greatly about that. But the thought that Charlie might not would have filled her with consternation. She was looking forward to the Christmas recess, and to having Charlie with her for two weeks, at least. But when the Christmas recess arrived and work was over, Charlie, feeling much relieved, sat down to a quiet evening with four congenial spirits who also felt much relieved and who wished to celebrate their temporary freedom in the only way they knew. I was wrong in calling it the only way. It was one of the few ways they knew in which to celebrate anything. When Charlie rose from the table, about midnight, he felt rather desperate, for he had lost heavily. He could not afford to lose heavily. One of the congenial spirits saw the look upon his face and laughed. "Don't you care, Ladue," he cried. "All is not lost. You needn't commit suicide yet. We'll stake you. Haven't you got a dollar left?"