There were some indications of surprise, which brought Professor Cummins to his feet, and with some asperity to say that he saw no reasons for expressions of surprise. It was certainly not the first time that this chair had been filled by a man who had recently graduated. This made several men smile, among them McLaren, who had been elected to fill that chair the day after his graduation. Then the bishop stated that during the thirty years in the past he had never made a nomination, but that he now felt inclined to do so; and he would nominate Thomas Sparrow, Ph.D., for the vacant chair of Greek and Greek Literature. Sparrow was one of their own graduates. First, in their preparatory course; then in classics, and afterward three years in Heidelberg, where he had won the Philosophy Doctorate. At this moment the newly-elected president who had been sitting with drooping head, as if he had been rebuked instead of having received their highest honor, arose and stated that he would be greatly pleased if Dr. Sparrow could be elected to fill the vacant chair, but he feared they were too late. Forty-eight hours ago the joint board of Burrough Road Institute, a noted school in London, had elected him to fill the chair of Belles-Lettres and History, and he feared that Sparrow had before now telegraphed his acceptance. "Then," said Quintin, "I move that we elect him anyhow--even if I have to cross the sea to give Burrough Road satisfaction." The inspiration was complete; every man was ready to vote, and did vote for the man who was wanted in London--and Tom Sparrow became Dr. Sparrow, Professor of Greek and Greek Literature in Monastery University, a result which none ever regretted. An earnest throng clustered around the newly-elected president, with hearty congratulations. Not only the trustees, but more than two hundred students, graduates included, who had been nervously waiting outside to hear the news--rushed impetuously as far as they could into the board room, and seizing McLaren, hoisted him to the shoulders of four sturdy men, and then marched out from the chapel into the park singing boisterously their latest college song: Rah! Rah! Monastery, Biggest Lion of them all, Albertson and Mack and Quintin, Rah! Rah! Rah! A full moon made it almost as light as day, and even dignified Albertson joined in the jovial song, while Billy Sparrow, dressed in his best blue broadcloth with its bright brass buttons, joined lustily in the chorus: "Rah! Rah! Rah! Albertson, Mack, and Jerry Quintin." Quintin's team stood at the gate, and its owner told the driver to drive to the farmhouse and wait there. Quintin himself was somewhat nervous, knowing that he had something more to accomplish before he slept.