"I say, where's the Green House?" "Ahead on your left--directly." "That old, stone, block-house affair?" "You win." "Why, it's not on the campus." "No, it ain't," said Jimmy, flicking the flies off the near horse; "but they've got a warm bunch of Indians all the same." Then, remembering the Wild-Western methods of driving, he added: "Don't forget about the ginger. Sock it to them. Fare, please." "I'll sock it," said Stover with a knowing air. "I may be tender, but I'm not green." He slapped a coin into the outstretched hand and reached back for the battle-scarred valise, to perceive the keen eye of Mr. Hopkins set on him with amusement. "Well, Sport, ta-ta, and good luck," said Stover, who had mentally ticketed him as a commercial traveler. "Hope you sell out." "Thanks," said Mr. Hopkins, with a twitch to his lip. "Now just one word to the wise." "What's that?" "Don't get discouraged." "Discouraged!" said Stover disdainfully: "Why, old Cocky-wax, put this in your pipe and smoke it--I'm going to own this house. In a week I'll have 'em feeding from my hand." He sprang down eagerly. Before him, at the end of a flagged walk, under the heavy boughs of evergreens, was a two-story building of stone, and under the Colonial portico a group curiously watching the new arrival. The coach groaned and pulled heavily away. He was alone at the end of the interminable stone walk, clutching a broken-down bag ridiculously mended with strings, face to face with the task of approaching with dignity and ease these suddenly discovered critics of his existence. II In all his fifteen years Stover had never been accused of standing in awe of anything or anybody; but at the present moment, as he balanced from foot to foot, calculating the unending distance of the stone flags, he was suddenly seized with an overpowering impulse to bolt. And yet the group at the steps were only mildly interested. An urchin pillowed on the knees of a Goliath had shifted so as languidly to command the approach; a baseball, traveling back and forth in lazy flight, had stopped only a moment, and then continued from hand to hand. Stover had thought of his future associates without much trepidation, as he had thought of the Faculty as Miss Wandell in trousers--being inferior to him in mental agility and resourcefulness who, he confidently intended, should shortly follow his desires. All at once, before he had spoken a word, before he had even seen the look on their countenances, he realized that he stood on the threshold of a new world, a system of society of which he was ignorant and by whose undivined laws he was suddenly to be judged.