Larry Donovan’s emotions, as he sat by listening to this give-and-take, and Lansing’s offer, were considerably mixed. At first, you see, he had been charging Dick’s downfall chiefly to his association with the Zeta Omegas, and when Dick had wiped that charge off the slate, he had still managed to hang on to some of his old prejudice against the fraternities. He had even gone so far as to wonder if the bunch wouldn’t willingly turn its back upon a member discredited and kicked out of college in disgrace. But here was a spirit altogether human and beautiful; good, man-sized loyalty that didn’t seem to care a rap whether Dick’s father had a million or a mere pittance. The occasion――and Dick’s evident balance on the raw edge of a breakdown――seemed to call for a diversion, and Larry made it. “See here, Lansing――and the rest of you,” he broke in, making himself the target, instead of Dick, “I’ve been holding a pretty savage grudge against you Greek-Letter fellows all the way along, and I want to take it back. You’re just white folks, like the rest of us, after all.” “Much obliged,” returned Lansing gravely; and then, to Larry’s utter astonishment: “You can’t put one over on me like that, Donnie, and get away with it. You know, and I know, why you’re not a member of the Omegs, right now. The name of the reason is Old Problem Seven-fifty-four. It was a low-down trick for me to swipe your demonstration sheet that night back yonder in January, and I’ve been ashamed of it ever since.” For a minute Larry was too astounded to answer. That the head of a fraternity chapter and a Senior should make such open and frank amends to an outsider and a Freshman was almost incredible. But he contrived to find his tongue after a bit. “I guess maybe I stood up so straight that I leaned over backwards,” he said. “Besides, I _was_ prejudiced, and I never was much of a ‘joiner.’ Let’s call it an even break and let it go at that. I’ve got to hand it to you fellows for the way you’re standing by Dick, and you can bet I’ll do my part. Now I must get out; I’ve got a whole descrip. assignment to work off before I turn in.” And he went while the going was good. Partly because he thought Purdick needed it, Larry told the story of the evening’s happenings, after he got back to the upper room in the Man-o’-War. But little Purdick’s prejudices in the matter of the classes and masses were too deeply ingrained to be removed by a single instance on the other side of the ledger. “Of course they’d back him to stay,” he offered. “It would give them a bad black eye if he had to get out in disgrace. What they’re going to do is only a matter of self-preservation.” “Purdy,” said Larry, as he got out his drawing-board and settled down to his descriptive geometry, “there are times when you make my back ache, and this is one of them. Got your trig.? All right; you go to bed and get out of my way. I’m due to crowd about two days’ work into the next hour and a half.” IX