As this evening marked her first “grown-up party,” Fanny Wallace had entered with delight into the festivities. She had danced nearly all the dances, most of them with Guy Fullerton, who stood at the door of the ballroom and watched her hungrily while she was waltzing with other men. Now she was exhausted, but, in spite of her aunt’s hint, repeated several times, determined not to go to bed. “Let’s go where we can be alone,” she said to Guy. “Then you can fan me till I get a little breath, and entertain me. I’ve done so much talking ever since we got acquainted I actually don’t know whether you can talk or not.” Guy, who liked her little jokes, even when they were directed against himself, agreed enthusiastically. They passed from room to room, only to find a group of people in each. “I don’t suppose there’s any use in trying the library,” said Fanny at last, with a sigh. “But perhaps no one’s there. It’s about time people were going home, anyway,” she added, tartly. On entering the library she uttered a cry of delight. “Not a soul!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t all this leather furniture nice? I just love green leather. I made Auntie promise that she’d have it. Here, you fix this big chair for me, and bring up that foot-rest. Yes, that’s it. Oh, I do wish they wouldn’t make furniture so _tall_. There, that’s lovely! Now you can sit on that chair--yes, that one, and don’t bring it too near, please. That’s right.” She sank back luxuriously and folded her hands in her lap. “Now you can tell me--let me see, what can you tell me? Oh, talk to me about your life at Harvard. You haven’t told me half enough about that.” “Well, there isn’t much to tell,” said Guy, with a smile, as he stroked his thick, blond hair. “There isn’t? Well, you ought to be ashamed to say so. Did you work _very_ hard?” “Well, not _very_,” Guy replied, with an amused glance from his blue eyes. “What did you do, then?” “Oh, I did lots of things.” “Such as what?” “Well, the best thing I did was to make the first ten of the Pudding.” “What!” Fanny sat bolt upright. “Yes. I made the first ten of the Pudding,” Guy explained, modestly. “Great, wasn’t it?” “What in the world are you talking about? Is it possible you’re guying me? Well, I’m ashamed. I didn’t think you’d try anything like that on me!” “Oh!” Guy’s face lighted up. “I thought you knew what that meant. Please excuse me. Why, I wouldn’t guy you for anything in the world. The Pudding’s one of our crack societies, that’s all, and the men are elected in batches of ten. It’s a great compliment to be on the first ten. I was awfully proud of it.” Fanny looked humbled. “I’m just a country girl, after all,” she acknowledged. “And you’re the first Harvard man I’ve ever known. There!” Suddenly she resumed her usual manner. “Now, don’t you take me down like that again, Guy Fullerton. If you do I’ll--Well, tell me about your old society.”