staring after it. The mocking silver lilt of Carlotta Cressy's laughter
drifted back to him. He shrugged, jammed on his hat and strode off in the
direction of the trolley car.

Dick Carson might just as well have spared himself the pain of jealousy.
Phil had already forgotten Tony, was remembering only Carlotta, who would
never deliberately do a mite of harm to the moon, would merely want to
play with it at her fancy and leave it at her whim for somebody else to
replace, if anybody cared to take the pains. And what was a moon more or
less anyway?




CHAPTER II

WITH ROSALIND IN ARDEN


Of course it is understood that every graduating class rightfully
asserts, and is backed up in its belief by doting and nobly partisan
relatives and blindly devoted, hyperbolic friends, that _its_ particular,
unique and proper senior dramatics is the most glorious and unforgettable
performance in all the histrionic annals of the college, a thing to make
Will Shakespeare himself rise and applaud from his high and far off hills
of Paradise.

Certainly Tony's class knew, past any qualms of doubt, and made no bones
of proclaiming its conviction that there never had been such a wonderful
"As You Like It" and that never, so long as the stars kept their seats in