"May I ask," said Hunter finally, in a tone of icy criticism, "What is the difference between knocking down the sophomore society and putting up this organization?" "Very glad to tell you, Jim," said Stover, assuming an attitude of careful good-will. "The difference is that this is an open organization, drawing from every element of the class, to meet for the sole purpose of doing a little thinking and getting to know other crowds. The sophomore society was an organization drawn from one element of the class, consciously or unconsciously for the purpose of advancing the social ambitions of its members at the expense of others. One is natural and democratic, and the other's founded on selfishness and exclusiveness." The Judge, fearing the results of a controversy, broke in, switching the conversation to safer channels. "By the way, Jim," said Stover, in an interlude, "we're counting on you and Tommy Bain to go into this thing and make it a success. Is that right?" Despite their reluctance at so prompt an espousal, Hunter and Bain were too far-seeing to set themselves in opposition. But the acceptance was given without enthusiasm, and, not relishing this sudden renewal of authority in one whom they naturally held at fault, they soon broke up the party. Hungerford and Bob went into the billiard room for a game, and presently the Judge disappeared upstairs to run over some routine work. Stover took the seat vacated by Hunter, with perhaps a little malicious pleasure, saying: "Aren't you going on playing?" The young girl hesitated a moment, turning the leaves aimlessly. "I don't know," she said. "Do you want me to very much?" "I'd much rather talk." She closed the music, turning to him with a little reproachful seriousness. "You've been away a long while." "Yes." He admitted the implied accusation with a moment's silence. "A crazy spell of mine. Bob was over this afternoon and we had a long talk." He said it point blank, watching her face for some indication he hoped to find there of her complicity. "Did he tell you?" "He was speaking of it at the dinner table," she said quietly. "Did you blame me," he said impulsively, "for what I did about getting out of my society?" "No." "Bob did, at least for a while," he said, looking eagerly into her eyes. "I did not agree with him there." She rose. "If we are going to talk, let's find more comfortable chairs." He followed her, a little irritated at the sudden closing on this delightful prospect. They took chairs by the window. Through the vista of open rooms could be seen the glare of the brilliant lights, and the figures of the two young fellows moving at their game. Suddenly, with a return of the old-time feeling of camaraderie between them, he burst out: