"I'm just crazy about harps," said Miss Cantillon, who was clever. "I think they're wonderful." "Harps--oh yes," said Charles Balou. Miss Cantillon appealed to the table. "Do you like them better than violins?" said Miss Barrons doubtfully. "Oh much better!" "They're too big," said Snorky wisely. "Yes, that is the trouble. It's a perfect shame too. They are too big to carry round but they are so melodious. I don't like the piano--it's so cold--" While the conversation raged on the proper classification of musical instruments, Miss Balou turned from Snorky to Skippy and looked him once more in the eyes with her interested glance. "Yes, I've heard a lot about you," she said with a knowing look. "Really now?" "You're a perfectly ghastly flirt," she said, lowering her voice. "You give a girl a terrific rush for a week or two and then pop off without even saying good-bye. Never mind though. I'm warned." Again the look, the interested look of trying to discover the secret of his fascination. It was quite unlike the way any other girl had ever looked at him. Other girls looked at you side-wise or averted their eyes when they met yours. But this was different. It was mocking, impertinent, insinuating, but it did not displease him. He saw that he had made an impression, an instantaneous impression. He mystified her perhaps but he interested her intensely. For the first time he had conquered with a look. "Who told you?" "That's telling." "I'll bet I know." "Bet you don't." "Bet I do." "What'll you bet?" "Two pounds of chocolates against a necktie." "Done, who is it?" "Some one here." "Nope. You've lost." "Who then?" "Some one who knows Dolly Travers," said Vivi with a mocking smile. "Oh!" "Brute," said Vivi in the greatest admiration. "Really I--" "Now don't be modest--I hate modest men. It makes it twice as bad. She's very attractive, isn't she?" "Very," said Skippy, feeling every inch a man. "But she's rather young--for you, isn't she?" said Vivi artfully. "They put glasses on cows in Russia," said Miss Cantillon importantly. She had a reputation as a brilliant conversationalist to uphold. This assertion woke up the table. "Cows?" "Glasses?" "Fanny dear, how excruciating!" Even the sophomore was surprised into expressing his incredulity. "Colored glasses on account of the glare of the snow," said Miss Cantillon. "Fanny!" "Fact, in Siberia. I read it in the papers." "Cows can't live in the snow." "But Siberia isn't all snow." "Most of it is." "Isn't it wonderful the things she knows?" said Vivi admiringly. "Do you like brainy women?" "That depends," said Skippy while he stopped to consider. "I don't know any." "Oh what a dreadful cynical remark!" said Vivi with another admiring look. "Heavens, I shall be frightened to death what I say to you. I'm sure you're awfully clever yourself. Perhaps I'll have a chance. Clever men hate clever women, don't they?"