actuated in everything he said and did by a kind of American adaptation of the ante-French Revolutionary opinion, that human beings began with barons. He was still a selfish high-handed youth,--no one knew it better than Haydock. But his friend found him neither as egoistic nor as arrogant as he had been; and he drew his own inferences. As for getting Wolcott into the Signet--Haydock wished to go on with what he had begun. The junior society seemed made to his hand. He not only looked forward to throwing Wolcott and McGaw together again,--on a basis of equality, this time,--he wished to put Wolcott in the way of having to see something of fellows who had a variety of interests strikingly different from his own, and who came together now and then to talk and read about them. Wolcott came in contact with men of many tastes at his clubs; but the club ideal was, after all, the placid, unimaginative ideal of fifteen or twenty pleasant young men with plenty of money, it was only too easy to live up to. Haydock had no misguided veneration for the Signet as a learned or even a very clever institution; an undergraduate literary society could hardly be one or the other. He did appreciate, however, the curiously diverse character of its components, and the semi-serious intellectual friction that went on there. For the good of Wolcott alone, he hoped to get him on the Third Seven. The attitude was quixotic, inasmuch as it was rather sentimental and as absurd as only a thoroughly fine attitude can be. Haydock had talked several men into promising to vote for Wolcott, should his name come up; and Ellis, from a variety of strange Christian motives, had done the same. Ellis had become enthusiastic over Wolcott since he had learned of the McGaw affair; whereas, formerly, he had denounced him as a selfish beast, he now called him a “temperament.” “Do propose somebody--anybody,” repeated Haviland. “I’m so sleepy!” Two of the men had stretched themselves on the sofas, with the request that they be waked in time to vote. “Let’s only have six on the Third Seven; it would be so quaint,” suggested Tommy. “I think I’d even vote for Baxford’s room-mate if he were put up again,” said Dickey Dawson. It was just this apparent willingness to elect any one and get away, that Haydock had been waiting for. He stood up. “I can’t think of any one who seems exactly cut out for the Signet, any more than the rest of you can,” he said; “but I don’t see why that ought to make so much difference on the Third Seven. Why not get on somebody like Tony Wilson or Jack Linzee or Sears Wolcott,--not necessarily any of those three, but some one like that. They’re athletes, you know, and people outside will think we’re trying to be representative,--that always sounds well, and, besides, they’re all good fellows. Any one of those men would be surprised and pleased to be elected, I feel sure.”