Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the train, and so, bidding Edwards a hasty good by, and assuring him that a full report of the proceedings would be made to him on our return, we boarded the cars, and soon left Belmont station far behind us. Berkeley was situated ten miles from Belmont, and on the banks of the same stream that flowed into our lake, so that travel could be effected between the two towns either by water or by rail, although the latter was a far shorter route, for the small river Mahr wound in and out amongst the picturesque hills of Berkshire, almost doubling the distance to Berkeley. The trip by rail took scarcely more than twenty-five or thirty minutes, and this time was employed by us in anticipating the business of the next day’s meeting. As this was my first experience of the kind, I was in no position to express positive opinions, but was content to listen to the conversation of my two companions, and to obtain from them all the information I could concerning the various questions that would come up for consideration in the convention. The time passed quickly, therefore, and almost before we were aware of it, the train slackened speed, the door of the car opened, and the conductor shouted, “Berkeley! All out for Berkeley!” It was about ten minutes past eight when we reached the Wyman House, which stood in the center of the town and some distance from Park College, the latter being situated nearly a quarter of a mile from the town limits of Berkeley. As Ray registered our names, some one touched him on the shoulder. He turned and found himself face to face with Slade. The latter held out his hand. “How do you do, Mr. Wendell? I’m glad to see you. I suppose you got my telegram all right.” “Yes, Mr. Slade,” answered Ray coldly, “I got your telegram; otherwise we might have missed the convention altogether. Is it your custom to delay notifying the delegates from the various colleges until they telegraph and ask you when the meetings are to take place?” “‘Custom,’ Mr. Wendell?” exclaimed Slade in amazement. “What do you mean? I have been secretary of the League for two years, and you know my custom well enough.” “I know what your custom should be in notifying us,” said Ray. “And always has been,” added Slade with an accent of annoyance. “Mr. Wendell, suppose we stop this hinting. What is the meaning of your tone?” “Why did you neglect to notify me of the date of this meeting?” asked Ray. “I did notify you,” was the instant response. “Yes, by telegram to-day, after I had asked for the information, but why did you fail to send me the customary formal notification that should precede the meeting by a week at least?” Slade looked Ray steadily in the face for several seconds, as if trying to determine whether he was in earnest. “Mr. Wendell,” said he firmly, “there is evidently some misunderstanding. _I sent you the regular notification ten days ago._” Ray’s face changed.