"You know it has been home to me for four years," he added half-apologetically, as he pushed forward the easiest chair for his father, who dropped into it. "I know, I know," returned the latter, nodding. "I am glad college life has been such a satisfactory experience to you. I have felt the lack of it myself often. Well, yesterday was a glorious day," he continued, with a reminiscent smile. "Fine weather, fine people. As good a climax as you could have desired. Those exercises around the tree are very amusing," the smile broadening. "I give you my word I didn’t know you in that scramble. I didn’t know my own boy. You were the worst-looking tramp of them all to begin with, Jack, and at the end you were the most demoralized bundle of rags of the lot." The speaker’s hearty laugh rang out. It was a matter of course that Jack should have been superlative in any college undertaking; but now a pensive smile was the young man’s only response to his father’s mirth. To-day’s reaction found him in a rather thoughtful and sentimental mood. The Van Tassels had always been well-looking as a family. Richard Van Tassel was a handsome man of a florid thick-set type, and he admired this sole remaining child the more that his physique was so dissimilar to his own. Tall, slender, athletic, Jack stood unconscious of his father’s scrutiny, which took in every detail of his appearance, from the wavy black hair scrupulously parted in the middle, to the feet planted apart on the thick rug. It was a delicate-featured, refined face that the young fellow had, a transparent face that betrayed feeling; that flushed with annoyance or radiated pleasure from brilliant brown eyes and perfect teeth. But now the eyes were shadowed; and when they caught the father’s gaze after a half-minute’s abstraction, Jack smiled with the gentle, winning expression which was his birthright, and had uncalculatingly won for him every favor he had ever asked. "Pardon me. Did you speak? My wits are wool-gathering to-day." Mr. Van Tassel ceased his silent satisfied survey, and picked up a book from a neighboring table. "I was about to ask you, what next?" he said. "What next?" "Yes; or perhaps I should say where next? I have business in Washington, regarding the World’s Fair, which may detain me there some time. Are you with me?" "No—a"— Jack appeared to rouse himself with an effort from his mental pictures. "The fact is, I’ve a lot of invitations that I should like to accept before I go back to Chicago." "Very well. We will postpone talking plans, then, until that time comes. You are to go abroad for a year if you like, you know." "Yes, thank you. I’ve a fancy that I would rather put off that trip awhile." "Why so? A wedding journey in view later, perhaps?" Jack did not appear to think this raillery required a specific answer. He smiled again, in the thoughtful mood so foreign to him.