A few rash under-formers with pretty sisters were admitted on sufferance, and robbed of their partners if the chance arose. Beauty, scrubby boy of fourteen, with a like aversion to girls and stiff collars in his ugly little body, had been horrified to learn that his sister, at the invitation of Rogers, the housemaster, was coming to the Prom. On his shoulders devolved the herculean task of filling a card from the upper class, only a handful of whom he knew, at a moment when the cards had been circulated for weeks. So he stood dejectedly, calculating how to fill the twenty-four spaces that were so blank and interminable. Twenty-four dances to fill, and the Prom only two weeks off! In the middle of the pond boys were darting and swaying in a furious game of hockey. Beauty lingered, biding his opportunity, searching the crowd for a familiar face, until presently Wash Simmons, emerging from the mêlée, darted to his side, grinding his skates and coming to a halt for breath, with a swift: "Hello, Venus! How's the Dickinson these days?" Beauty, murmuring an inaudible reply, stood turning and twisting, desperately seeking to frame a demand. "What's the secret sorrow, Beauty?" continued Wash, with a glance of surprise. "I say, Wash," said Beauty, plunging--"I say, have you got any dances left?" "I? Oh, Lord, no!" said the pitcher of the school nine, with a quick glance. "Gone long ago." He drew the strap tight, dug his hands into his gloves again, and with a nod flashed back into the crowd. Beauty, gulping down something that rose in his throat, started aimlessly to skirt the edge of the pond. He had understood the look that Wash had given him in that swift moment. In this abstracted mood, he suddenly came against something angular and small that accompanied him to the ice with a resounding whack. "Clumsy beast!" said a sharp voice. From his embarrassed position, Beauty recognised the Red Dog. "Excuse me, Red Dog," he said hastily; "I didn't see you." "Why, it's Beauty," said the Red Dog, rubbing himself. "Blast you! all the same." "I say, Red Dog," said Beauty, "have you any dances left?" "All gone, Beauty," answered Red Dog, stooping suddenly to recover his skate. "Nothing left?" "Nope--filled the last extra to-day," said Red Dog, with the shining face of prevarication. Then he added, "Why, Venus, are you going to the Prom?" "No," said Sawtelle; "it's my sister." "Oh, I'm sorry. I'd like to oblige you, but you see how it is," said Red Dog, lamely. "I see." "Ta, ta, Beauty! So long!" Sawtelle shut his lips, struck a valiant blow at an imaginary puck, and began to whistle. 'Tis a jolly life we lead Care and sorrow we defy-- After piping forth this inspiring chorus with vigorous notes, the will gave way. He began another: To Lawrenceville my father sent me, Where for college I should prepare; And so I settled down, In this queer, forsaken town, About five miles away from anywhere.