Harris picked up his togs and hurried off. Allan would have liked to walk back with him to the gym, but he thought the junior might think him “fresh” if he offered his company, and so he started back alone. It was almost dark now, and the lights in the college yard and in the village were twinkling brightly when he reached the corner of Poplar Street and turned down that elm-roofed thoroughfare toward his room. Poplar Street ends at Main Street in a little triangular grass-grown space known as College Park, and Allan’s room was in the rambling corner house that faces the park and trails its length along Main Street. Allan thought his address sounded rather well: “1 College Park” had an aristocratic sound that pleased him. And since he had been unable to secure accommodations in one of the dormitories, he considered himself lucky to have found such comfortable quarters as Mrs. Purdy’s house afforded. His room was large, with two windows in front reaching to the floor and four others arranged in couples along the side, and affording a clear view of the college yard, from McLean Hall to the library. The fact that former denizens had left comfortable window-seats at each side casement was a never-failing source of satisfaction to the new occupant of what the landlady called the “parlor study.” In Allan’s case, it was study and bedroom too. Next year Allan meant to room in the Yard, and for the present he was very well satisfied. His occupancy of less than a month had not staled the pleasure derived from knowing himself sole owner of all the apartment’s array of brand-new furniture, carpeting, and draperies. To-night, after he had lighted all four of the burners in the gilded chandelier above the table, he paused with the charred match in hand and looked about him with satisfaction. The carpet was beautifully crimson, the draperies at the windows were equally resplendent, if more variegated in hue, the big study-table shone richly and reflected the light in its polished top, and the more familiar objects on the mantel and on the dark walls, accumulations of his school years, seemed to return his gaze with friendly interest. To-night, with the knowledge of his victory on the track adding new glamour to the scene, it seemed to Allan that his first year of college life was destined to be very happy and splendid. He stayed only long enough to change collar and cuffs, and then, with a boy’s cheerful disregard of economy, left the four lights flaring and hurried across Main Street to Brown Hall and dinner. The afternoon’s work had put a sharp edge on his appetite, and, having nodded to one or two acquaintances, he lost no time in addressing himself to the agreeable task of causing the total disappearance of a plate of soup. His preoccupation gives us an excellent opportunity to make a critical survey of him without laying ourselves open to the charge of impoliteness.