He did not make the 'varsity--not that year, anyhow. But he did make our class team, and won his numerals. Also when spring came in, he was chosen as one of the track team's discus throwers. Add to this the fact that he had lately been elected to the board of the literary monthly, and it will be seen that Fallon had had a skyrocket rise. No wonder that Waters, the genial, now forgot that autumn affront and paid nightly visits upon his particular friend Fallon. And Fallon, of course, having had his attention diverted into so many foreign channels, no longer cared so singularly for his studies, but was willing to receive Waters and such as Waters with an ever-increasing cordiality. The inevitable happened. Fallon, exhibiting his latest development--a full-sized, roistering swagger--came into my room one evening and told me jubilantly that he was pledged to join Waters' fraternity. "It's not the best in college," he admitted loftily, "but it'll tone up a bit when I get the track captaincy and Waters gets elected to a managership." "And how about that senior year valedictory?" I asked him. "Oh, I was a fool in those days, wasn't I?" He mistook my silence. "Say, old chap," he went on, "this is no time for you to be jealous of me. I know well enough, you ought to be in a fraternity--in the very best one. I wish I could get you into ours--but, say, you know how it is about Jews." Yes, I knew, I assured him, and gave him the heartiest hand-clasp I could manage. "You know, my mother's going to be awfully proud of this," he exclaimed huskily. But though Waters did succeed in winning himself a team managership, Fallon never became the captain of the track team. For his election to that fraternity meant his ruin. He lost his grip upon everything. Perhaps it was his fellow-members, perhaps he had only himself to blame. He began to drink. At the end of junior year he was expelled from college. And I wondered if the mother, who had wanted him to be the class valedictorian, was as proud of him as ever. XVI THE HUN'S INVASION So far in my college course I had met with actually little outspoken insult. Once or twice in my freshman year some loutish sophomore had not stopped at making comments upon my religion. There had been that incident at Trevelyan's fraternity house, too. But, generally speaking, the prejudice had been of a negative sort, restricting rather than driving--though none the less offensive and chafing on that account. There was nothing on which I could actually lay my finger to complain. I had no actual proof that I had been kept off any college organization because of my religion. I might have had, had I cared at the time to follow up the favoritism shown in the dramatic society--but that was a small affair, by now, and I preferred to let it rest forgotten.