Hugh, however, was surer of himself than he had been the first term, and although he had no reason to be proud of the grades he received, he was not particularly ashamed of them. He and Carl left the same day but by different trains. They had agreed to room together again in Surrey 19; so they didn't feel that the parting for the summer was very important. "You'll write, won't you, old man?" "Sure, Hugh--surest thing you know. Say, it don't seem possible that our freshman year's over already. Why, hell, Hugh, we're sophomores." "So we are! What do you know about that?" Hugh's eyes shone. "Gosh!" Carl looked at his watch. "Hell, I've got to beat it." He picked up his suit-case, dropped it, shook hands vigorously with Hugh, snatched up his suit-case, and was off with a final, "Good-by, Hugh, old boy," sounding behind him. Hugh settled back into a chair. He had half an hour to wait. "A sophomore.... Gosh!" CHAPTER XIV Hugh spent the summer at home, working on the farm, reading a little, and occasionally visiting a lake summer resort a few miles away. Helen had left Merrytown to attend a secretarial school in a neighboring city, and Hugh was genuinely glad to find her gone when he returned from college. Helen was becoming not only a bore but a problem. Besides, he met a girl at Corley Lake, the summer resort, whom he found much more fascinating. For a month or two he thought that he was in love with Janet Harton. Night after night he drove to Corley Lake in his father's car, sometimes dancing with Janet in the pavilion, sometimes canoeing with her on the lake, sometimes taking her for long rides in the car, but often merely wandering through the pines with her or sitting on the shore of the lake and staring at the rippling water. Janet was small and delicate; she seemed almost fragile. She did everything daintily--like a little girl playing tea-party. Her hands and feet were exquisitely small, her features childlike and indefinite, except her little coral mouth, which was as clearly outlined with color as a doll's and as mobile as a fluttering leaf. She had wide blue eyes and hair that was truly golden. Strangely, she had not bobbed it but wore it bound into a shining coil around her head. Hugh wrote a poem to her. It began thus: Maiden with the clear blue eyes, Lady with the golden hair, Exquisite child, serenely wise, Sweetly tender, morning fair. He wasn't sure that it was a very good poem; there was something reminiscent about the first line, and he was dubious about "morning fair." He had, however, studied German for a year in high school, and he guessed that if _morgenschoen_ was all right in German it was all right in English, too.