He whipped a flask out of his hip pocket. "Take a nip of this and it will set you right in a jiffy." "No, I'll never drink another drop." "Don't be a fool. Just a swallow and you'll be on your feet again." I took a big swallow and it braced me up instantly. "Now, come on with me, Johnnie, I'm taking you in tow for to-day! A fellow who's not used to getting drunk always mopes around after a good time like we had.... I'm seeing you through _the day after_ ... you're going to lunch with me at the frat-house and this afternoon there's a sacred concert on in Aeolian Hall that I have two tickets for." "I'll never drink another drop as long as I live." "That's what they all say." * * * * * At the Sig Kappas I met Black Jim, the first one, at the door. He shook hands shyly, laughingly. "You sure fetched that rube a wallop ... he let one croak out of him and flopped flat ... it would have made a good comic picture." "Lunch is ready, boys!" I was made into a sort of hero--"a real, honest-to-God guy." "You'll have to come to some of our frat jamborees ... Jack'll bring you up." "We and the Sigma Deltas are Southern fraternities ... we have a hell of a sight more fun than the others ... there's the Sigma Pis--though they have some live birds, they're mostly dead ... and the Phi Nus put on too much side ... the Beta Omicrons are right there with the goods, though." "I see." A little freshman made an off-colour remark. "You'd better go and see Jennie!" advised a genial young senior, who, for all his youth, was entirely bald. "Jennie, who's Jennie?" I asked, curious. "Our frat woman!" answered Travers casually. "Frat woman?" I was groping for further information, puzzled. "Yes, often a fraternity keeps a woman for the use of its members ... when a kid comes to us so innocent he's annoying, we turn him over to Jennie to be made a man of." "This innocence-stuff is over-rated. It's better to send a kid to a nice, clean girl that we club in together and keep, and let him learn what life is, once and for all, than to have him going off somewhere and getting something, or, even worse, horning around and jeopardizing decent girls, as he's bound to otherwise." * * * * * There were signs of failure at the Farmers' Restaurant. The curious farmer-family that ran it were giving it up and moving back into the country again. I was soon to have no place to board, where I could obtain credit. But it was summer by now, and I didn't care. I meditated working in the wheat harvest. * * * * * The editors of the _National Magazine_ had given a new impulsion to my song--and a damned bad one. Already they had accepted and printed several of my effusions. I was to sing for them the life of present-day America, the dignity of labour, the worth of the daily, obscure endeavour of the world around me.....