A few moments the lad remained where he had halted, drinking through every thirsting pore; but most of all with his eyes satisfied by the sight of that venerable building which, morning and night, for over two years had shaped itself to his imagination--that seat of the university--that entrance into his future. Three students came strolling along the path toward him on their way down town. One was slapping his book against his thigh; one was blowing a ditty through his nose, like music on a comb; one, in the middle, had his arms thrown over the shoulders of the others, and was at intervals using them as crutches. As they were about to pass the lad, who had stepped a few feet to one side of the path, they wheeled and laughed at him. "Hello, preachy!" cried one. His face was round, red, and soft, like the full moon; the disk was now broken up by smiling creases. "Can you tell me," inquired the lad, coloring and wondering how it was already known that he was to be a preacher, "Can you tell me just the way to the Bible College?" The one of the three on the right turned to the middle man and repeated the question gravely:-- "Can you tell me just the way to the Bible College?" The middle man turned and repeated it gravely to the one on the left:-- "Can you tell me just the way to the Bible College?" The one on the left seized a passing student:-- "Can you tell us all just the way to the Bible College?" "Ministers of grace!" he said, "without the angels!" Then turning to the lad, he continued: "You see this path? Take it! Those steps? Go straight up those steps. Those doors? Enter! Then, if you don't see the Bible College, maybe you'll see the janitor--if he is there. But don't you fear! You may get lost, but you'll never get away!" The lad knew he was being guyed, but he didn't mind: what hurt him was that his Bible College should be treated with such levity. "Thank you," he said pleasantly but proudly. "Have you matriculated?" one of the three called after him as he started forward. David had never heard that word; but he entertained such a respect for knowledge that he hated to appear unnecessarily ignorant. "I don't think--I have," he observed vaguely. The small eyes of the full moon disappeared altogether this time. "Well, you've got to matriculate, you know," he said. "You'd better do that sometime. But don't speak of it to your professors, or to anybody connected with the college. It must be kept secret." "Will I be too late for the first recitations?" The eager question was on the lad's lips but never uttered. The trio had wheeled carelessly away. There passed them, coming toward David, a tall, gaunt, rough-whiskered man, wearing a paper collar without a cravat, and a shiny, long-tailed, black cloth coat. He held a Bible opened at Genesis. "Good morning, brother," he said frankly, speaking in the simple kindness which comes from being a husband and father. "You are going to enter the Bible College, I see."