“DEAR FRED,--Never mind the excuses or the apology. If you say it’s all right I’m satisfied. Only come and see me and let’s get back on the old footing. Come to-morrow morning, say about ten o’clock. I feel a little more chipper mornings. “You have my everlasting gratitude for making the first advance. I don’t know whether I could have brought myself to it or not. On second thought come at nine o’clock--don’t wait till ten. Don’t fail me, old boy.--LEE.” Parmenter sat down on the bed, and cried like a child. Then he jumped up and wiped the tears away, and laughed, and read the letter again, and many times again. No pleasure that his life had ever before known had thrilled him as did these simple, tremulously written words. He went to the window, and looked out upon the sweet June landscape. What a glorious day it was! He seized his hat and left the room singing: “And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays.” He went down the stairs two steps at a time. Some students in the lower hall, hearing his cheery voice and seeing his radiant face, so wondered at the transformation that they turned and followed him. Out on the campus was a crowd of Sophomores getting up a game of foot-ball. Parmenter went over, and begged to be allowed to play with them, and they gladly gave him his old place in the team. And how he did play! What tremendous runs he made!--though he had moped so long that he was not in his usual condition. How he shouted and laughed at each brilliant point in the game, and shook hands all round when his team came out victorious! Every one wondered and rejoiced at his changed manner, and said that for some unexplainable reason “Richard was himself again.” That evening Parmenter sat with a group of students on the terrace, and sang college songs for an hour in the good old fashion; and when he went to bed he slept with such refreshing sweetness as he had not known before for many weeks. The next morning he arose early. It was Saturday, and there were no recitations nor examinations. The work of the term was finished, and the next week was to be given up to the pleasures of Commencement. Parmenter started out for a walk before breakfast. The morning was exceptionally beautiful, even for June. He crossed the campus and struck into the woods, drinking in the dewy perfumes as he went, feasting his eyes on sylvan sights, listening, with rapt ears, to the music of the singing birds. He thought he had never in his life before seen a morning so thoroughly charming as this.