The first of these was Edith Dorlin: they were fast friends before the fall term was well begun, and as a result Dick went home with her to spend the Thanksgiving recess. In those few days Mrs. Dorlin fell quite in love with her, as did also Edith’s brother Jack, who was four years older than his sister and in his junior year at college. The Dorlins made what was almost a home for her during her four college years, and as the time for graduation grew near, Edith and her mother both besought Dick to make her home with them permanently. Jack also asked her to come, but his invitation included marrying him, and Dick, though she was really very fond of him, did not love him in the least, so in spite of their combined entreaties she had announced her intention of going abroad for a year or two; whereupon Jack, averring that he was not cut out for a lawyer, and that he was tired of getting his essays on things in general back from the magazines, decided that he ought to do something with his music and began planning to go to Berlin to study. But the Bagsburys had not entirely lost sight of Dick, and on her commencement day John appeared and repeated his invitation that she come and live with them, or at least make them a long visit. Somewhat to Dick’s surprise she accepted; partly because the idea of having any sort of a home appealed to her, and partly because, in spite of her prejudice against him, she liked John, with his strong, alert way, and his bluntness, and his cautious keeping within the fact; and then--this was the strongest reason of all--his mouth and something in the inflection of his voice reminded her of her mother. Jack Dorlin’s disgust when he heard of Dick’s decision quite outran his power of expression. “Don’t you think yourself that it’s mildly insane?” he asked her. “I’m not going there to live,” said Dick; “at least, I don’t know that I am. Not unless they like me awfully well.” “But just try to think a minute,” he went on, trying hard to preserve an argumentative manner; “here are we who have known you all your life--” She smiled, and he exclaimed impatiently. “Oh, don’t be so literal! I have known you--always, and can’t you--” He broke off short. Then without giving her time to say the words that were on her lips, he added quickly:-- “I know, Dick. I know. Don’t tell me again. I didn’t mean to speak that way; it got away from me. But I can’t see the sense of your going away off to live with some people you’ve never seen. Mother and Edith and I have known you four years, and we do like you awfully well; there’s no ‘unless’ about it.” “Don’t try to argue any more, Jack,” she said. “I’m going to visit the Bagsburys. I don’t know how long I’ll stay; it may be a month, and it may be a year, and I may find a home there. But I shall miss you all dreadfully, and you must write me lots of letters. Tell me all about your life in Berlin, and how your music is going--and everything.”