"Oh!" she exclaimed, "it is beautiful-magnificent— glorious !"

Milton stood gasping, but Hollis seemed very calm. That this woman and this boy, attired as they were, should appear before each other and before him without the slightest embarrassment was something Paul Milton could not understand. He at once felt that his suspicion was correct. What he had seen was not an hallucination but a reality. And then Miss Jones walked to the cot, sat down with Hollis and tenderly pushed the hair back from his forehead. Milton felt the blood freeze within him. Such an open display of wantonness! How could Hollis permit this disgusting woman-this lascivious Delilah-to fondle him!

"I am so glad we all know each other at last," said Miss Jones. "I was reluctant about introducing you to Harold; it seemed you were always so busy, and I did not wish to disturb you. Had Harold known earlier that you played the violin, he would have given you no rest. Both of us are so fond of music. It runs in the family. Harold's mother was my sister; she died a few years ago," added Miss Jones sadly.

Milton fell back in the Morris chair. He wanted to speak, but he could not; the last remark of the landlady came as a sunstroke from a dark sky.

"Isn't it fortunate for him," she continued, "to be able to come to a college in a town where his Aunt Clarabelle lives. She can take such good care of him-just as his own mother would have done. But I take care of all my boys in just the same way; and by making a real home, I keep them off the streets and out of the taverns, and in this way maintain their interest in books. Harold came up to see you tonight without my permission. night so long as you played for him. ter come up and send him back to bed. up or, perhaps, away from your work. to hear another concert sometime again when it is more convenient."

I

He would stay all thought I had betHe is keeping you We will both come

She arose and walked toward the door.

"Come along, Harold," she added.

Harold followed.

"I suppose I shall have to obey Aunt Clarabelle," said Hollis, with a smile, his eyes twinkling merrily, "but I am mighty glad to have met you. Good night."

And he took Milton's hand and held it with a grasp which proved convincingly to Milton that the boy was honorable.

"Good night," said Miss Jones, as she walked down the stairs with her arm across the boy's shoulders.

"Good night," said Milton.

He listened, and heard two doors closing-first the landlady's at the foot of the stairs, then the door to Hollis' room at the other end of the hall. He closed his own door happily, undressed, and extinguished the lamp. The visit of Miss Jones and her nephew had removed the faintest shadow of suspicion from his mind. How often he himself, dressed in pajamas, had tiptoed into his own mother's room to kiss her good night! and if she were to die and if he were to live with a dear kind aunt, would he not treat her with the same affection!

The moonlight fell through the high windows upon his bed. He knelt there and prayed that God might prevent the future visitation of evil brooding upon his mind, that God might check and destroy the growth of poisonous thoughtseeds, which the attempted but unsuccessful escapade with Arch Coddington had planted in his head and which later experiences were tending to nourish.

And he slept soundly, for God did send him relieftemporarily.

CHAPTER XIII

HOLLIS AND DE SOTO

The next day Milton was at his work again, happy that he lived in a house where the landlady was so good and kind, happy that he had made the acquaintance of Harold Hollis, happy that he had again found interest in his geometry for he was reconstructing the thread model which he had destroyed, because it was the most beautiful one of his entire collection. How glad he was to see it brought back to life again!

A few days later he was asked to present, before the Mathematical Club, a paper on a topic which was left to his own discretion. He at once thought of his string constructions. His name and his subject appeared on the university bulletin. He carried the models to the lecture hall in his suitcase; he had so many that it was necessary to make several trips. He exhibited the collection before a large audience of faculty and graduate students and explained the theory which determined the method of strucHis work was warmly applauded.

After the meeting, on his way to his room, he stopped before Harold Hollis' door. The success of his paper had thrown him into a joyous mood, which he wanted to share with the boy whom he longed to know as a very close friend. Hollis had not called at Milton's room since the night he and his aunt were there. Milton had not invited them to another concert; he was again lost in his geometry, and his violin had been buried in its casket under the bed. If Milton wished another visit from Hollis, he believed that the first one must be returned.

Milton had never called on any boys in Miss Jones'

house, but now he not only felt that he owed Hollis a call but that he really wanted to make it. And yet he hesitated before entering. As he stood there trying to decide whether or not to knock, the door suddenly opened, and Hollis, on his way out, almost collided with him.

"I was just going to drop in and see you," said Milton. "Oh!" exclaimed Hollis, "is it you? Come right in. I didn't recognize you at first; the hall is always so dark. I was just on my way to your room to see you about a problem in Analyt. I had about given it up and was ready to go to bed when I thought you might be willing to give me a lift."

"Gladly," said Milton, removing his overcoat.

Hollis was in his pajamas and moccasins, just as we had met him before. He drew up a chair to his desk and asked Milton to sit down before the open textbook.

"It is this one:" said Hollis, "to prove that the area of the triangle formed by the two coördinate axes and a tangent to the equilateral hyperbola is constant."

"How far have you worked it?" asked Milton.

Hollis searched through some loose papers on his desk until he found one covered with equations.

"That's as far as I can get," he admitted, pointing to his result.

"That's as far as is necessary."

"Yes, that is the expression for the area, but I don't see why it is constant."

"Because the point of contact lies on the curve, and its coördinates must therefore satisfy the original equation," said Milton.

"What a dunce I was not to see that myself," said Hollis, rapping his knuckles against his head.

Hollis, of course, was by no means a dunce. He was brilliant; he had simply overlooked this condition.

"You don't mind my coming up to ask you a question now and then? I get stuck occasionally, but not very often,' he admitted.

"I shall be glad to help you out," said Milton, “any time you wish."

"Do you like roasted chestnuts?" asked Hollis, preparing to repay Milton for his service.

"Yes."

Hollis disappeared behind the portieres, which were drawn across the alcove, and then appeared again with a paper bag and a corn popper.

"Let's just sit here on the floor," suggested Hollis.

Milton lost no time in obeying. Hollis was soon on his knees before the fireplace, roasting the chestnuts over the smouldering logs in the grate. Milton could not refrain from admiring the boy's face. The brilliant red glow of the embers was reflected in the clear whites of his eyes, and his cheeks soon began to bloom like roses coloring under the warmth of June sunshine. The white coat, buttoned snugly about his throat, and the lock of brown hair, which fell over his smooth forehead, both helped by contrast to offset his ruddy countenance. His pajamas covered but did not conceal his square shoulders and his rounded chest; physically he seemed perfect. It was a picture Milton always remembered. "I had a letter from Arch Coddington today," said Harold, as he continued to shake the nuts.

The name Coddington awakened Milton from his reverie. The fact that Coddington and Hollis were friends was somewhat disturbing-the only unpleasant information he had gathered from the boy.

"You remember, I said I was going to write to him about you," added the freshman.

Milton began to feel uneasy. He never knew definitely. whether or not May Stanley had taken Coddington's money that night-the money in payment of Milton's "initiation." Perhaps she had given Coddington the impression that she had been successful with her "new customer." Perhaps Coddington had written about it to Hollis, and Hollis was now judging him accordingly. But was not the boy justified when he himself had judged Hollis, and judged him falsely too.

"He mentioned your playing," continued Hollis, "and something else which I myself don't care to hear."