Then this community of faint sounds was lost as, from the fence, a shapeless mass beyond began to send its song towards him. "_When freshmen first we came to Yale_ _Fol-de-rol-de-rol-rol-rol._ _Examinations made us pale_ _Fol-de-rol-de-rol-rol-rol._" "What do you know about the society system here?" said Le Baron abruptly. "Why, I know--there are three senior societies: Skull and Bones, Keys, Wolf's-Head--but I guess that's all I do know." "You'll hear a good deal of talk inside the college, and out of it, too, about the system. It has its faults. But it's the best system there is, and it makes Yale what it is to-day. It makes fellows get out and work; it gives them ambitions, stops loafing and going to seed, and keeps a pretty good, clean, temperate atmosphere about the place." "I know nothing at all about it," said Stover, perplexed. "The seniors have fifteen in each; they give out their elections end of junior year, end of May. That's what we're all working for." "Already?" said Stover involuntarily. "There are fellows in your class," said Le Baron, "who've been working all summer, so as to get ahead in the competition for the _Lit_ or the _Record_, or to make the leader of the glee club--fellows, of course, who know." "But that's three years off." "Yes, it's three years off," said Le Baron quietly. "Then there are the junior fraternities; but they're large, and at present don't count much, except you have to make them. Then there are what are called sophomore societies." He hesitated a moment. "They are very important." "Do you belong?" asked Stover innocently. "Yes," said Le Baron, after another hesitation. "Of course, we don't discuss our societies here. Others will tell you about them. But here's where your first test will come in." Then came another lull. Stover, troubled, frowning, sat staring at the brilliant windows across which passed, from time to time, a sudden shadow. The groups at the fence were singing a football song, with a marching swing to it, that had so often caught up his loyal soul as he had sat shivering in the grand-stand for the game to begin. It was not all so simple--no, not at all simple. It wasn't as he had thought. It was complex, a little disturbing. "This college is made up of all sorts of elements," said Le Baron, at last. "And it is not easy to run it. Now, in every class there are just a small number of fellows who are able to do it and who will do it. They form the real crowd. All the rest don't count. Now, Stover, you're going to have a chance at something big on the football side; but that is not all. You might make captain of the eleven and miss out on a senior election. You're going to be judged by your friends, and it is just as easy to know the right crowd as the wrong." "What do you mean by the right crowd?" said Stover, conscious of just a little antagonism.