"Bless their simple hearts," said Stover, untroubled. "So they're worrying about me. It's rather humorous. It's their inherited point of view. Le Baron, Joe, could no more understand what we are thinking about--and yet he's a fine type. Sure, he's stopped me a couple of times and shaken his head in a worried, fatherly way. To him, you see, everything is selective; what he calls the fellow who doesn't count, the 'fruit,' is really outside what he understands, the fellows who are in the current of what's being done here. I must talk it out with him sometime. We've come to absolutely opposite points of view. And yet the curious thing is, he's fond as the deuce of me." "Yes, that's so," said Hungerford. He did not insist, seeing that Stover was insensible to the hints he had tried to convey. Not wishing to express openly a point of view which was personally unsympathetic, he hesitated and remained silent. "Coming up for a chin?" said Dink, as they neared the campus. "No, I've got a date at Heub's. I say, Dink, I'm serious in what I said. I want to wake up and get around. Work me in." "You bet I will, and you'll meet a gang that really have some ideas." "That's what I want. Well, so long." "So long, Joe." Dink, turning to the right, entered the campus past Battell. He had never before felt so master of himself, or surer of a clear vision. The thought of his instinctive return to the Storys', and the knowledge that he had distinguished himself before Jean Story, gave him a certain exhilaration. He began to feel the opportunity that was in his hands. He remembered with pleasure Hungerford's demand to follow where he had gone, and he said to himself: "I can make this crowd of mine see what the real thing is--and, by George, I'm going to do it." As he delayed in the campus, Le Baron and Reynolds passed him, going toward Durfee. "Hello, Dink." "Hello there." He continued on to his entry, and, turning, saw the two juniors stop and watch him. Without heed he went up to his room, lit the dusty gas-jet, and went reverently to his bureau. He was in his bedroom, standing there in a sentimental mood, gazing at the one or two little kodaks he had displayed of Jean Story, when a knock sounded. He turned away abruptly, singing out: "Let her come." The door opened and some one entered, and, emerging from his bedroom, he beheld to his surprise Le Baron and Reynolds. "Hello," he said, puzzled. "Anything doing, Dink?" said Le Baron pleasantly. "Not a thing. Make yourself at home," he said hastily. "Take a seat. Pipe tobacco in the jar--cigarettes on the table." Each waved his hand in dissent. Reynolds seated himself in a quick, business-like way on the edge of his chair; Le Baron, more sociable, passed curiously about the room, examining the trophies with interest.