“Why!” she said, after a moment’s thought, “if Geoffrey does gain a year he will take his degree when you take yours!” “Yes.” A little ripple of roguish laughter issued from the fair girl’s red lips. “Then let me warn you,” she said, with a merry glance, “to look out for your honors, Mr. Mapleson, for Geoffrey is bound to go to the front, and I have fully made up my mind to hear him deliver the valedictory at Yale two years hence.” Again the young Southerner had to pause for self-control; it was very hard for him to conceal the rage that was well-nigh overmastering him. But all at once he bent toward Gladys, and, speaking in a low, resolute tone, said: “Miss Huntress, you have inspired me with an ambition which I never before possessed. I would give more than you can conceive to merit such praise from your lips as you have just bestowed upon another, and from this hour, my purpose shall be to ‘go to the front,’ as you have expressed it. I shall deliver the valedictory two years from next summer.” Gladys laughed gleefully. She never dreamed of the fierce enmity and jealousy that lay beneath all this, and she was delighted to think that she had aroused his desire to excel in his class. “It will be a worthy contest,” she said; “and I honor you for your resolution. I shall watch the rivalry with a great deal of interest, I assure you.” “Will you wear my colors if I succeed, Miss Huntress?” the young man asked, in a low, almost passionate tone. “That depends——” “Upon what?” “Upon whether Geoffrey takes his degree at the same time; if he gains his year and leaves with your class, I think I shall have to be loyal to him, even though he should suffer defeat,” Gladys replied, though in her heart she felt sure that he would not fail to do himself honor. “That is hardly fair,” urged her companion; “‘to the victor belongs the spoils,’ you know.” “Yes; but you will have your own friends to rejoice with you, and I could not desert dear old Geoff, though he should fail a hundred times,” she returned, a tender glow overspreading her face. “Happy Huntress!” sneered the exasperated young man, for a moment forgetting himself. “Why, Mr. Mapleson, I hope you are not offended with me,” Gladys said, with surprise, and not once suspecting that this venom was aimed at the object of their conversation; then she added: “Perhaps, however, his colors and yours will be the same, and then I can honor you both.” Everet Mapleson was glad that supper was announced just at that moment, which saved him the necessity of replying. The mere thought of sharing any honors with his rival made him white with anger, and her praise of him had driven him nearly frantic. He saw Geoffrey approaching them, and surmised that he contemplated taking Gladys in to supper. He resolved that he should not; so, turning to her with a smile, as he laid her hand upon his arm, he remarked: “That is no doubt a pleasing announcement to everybody. Shall we follow the hungry crowd?”