If his manner was a trifle impatient and condescending, this only served to enhance his impressiveness. And he knew his Shakespeare. Lydia entered under his guidance that ever new and ever old world of beauty that only the born Shakespeare lover discovers. The Christmas recess had come and gone before Lydia became vaguely conscious that young Professor Willis called on her always to recite, whether he did on any other girl in the class or not. She did not know that from the first day she had entered his class the young professor had been conscious of the yellow head in the furthest corner of the classroom. It was a nobly shaped head bound round with curly yellow braids above a slender face, red cheeked yet delicate. He was conscious too of the home-made suit and the cheap shirtwaists, with the pathetic attempt at variety through different colored neckties. Little by little he recognized that the bashful young person had a mental background not shared by her mates, and he wondered about her. It was early in January that he made an attempt to satisfy his curiosity. The snowfall had been light so far and heavy winds had blown the lake clear of drifts. Lydia often brought her skates to class with her and if the wind were favorable skated home after her last recitation. She had just fastened on her skates one day when a rather breathless voice behind her said, "Going for a skate, Miss Dudley?" and Professor Willis, skates over his shoulder, bore down on her. Lydia blushed vividly--"I--I often skate home. I live three miles down the shore." "Rather thought I'd have a try myself, if you don't mind." "Heavens!" thought Lydia. "I hope he won't come clear home with me? The house looks awful!" Willis fastened on his skates and stood up. "Which way?" he asked. Lydia nodded homeward and started off silently, the Harvard man close beside her. "You enjoy your Shakespeare work, Miss Dudley?" he asked. "Oh, yes!" cried Lydia. "That most of anything. Don't you love to teach it?" "Er--in some ways! I will admit that the co-educational end of it is very trying to an Eastern college man." This was such a surprising view to Lydia that she forgot to be bashful. "Don't you like girls, Professor Willis?" she asked. "Not in a boys' classroom--that is--at first the situation brought cold sweat to my face. But now, I carry on the work to a great extent for you. You are the only person with a background, don't you know." Lydia didn't know. The Harvard man's voice, however, was entirely impersonal, so she ventured to explore. "What do you mean by background?" "If you wouldn't skate so outrageously fast," he panted, "I could tell you with more--more aplomb." "But," explained Lydia, "I have to skate fast. There's always so much to be done and old Lizzie isn't well." She looked at the Shakespeare professor innocently. He looked at his watch.