rate, no coward.

The student, still holding his hat, smiled languidly as he shook his
head.

"I'm new, you see," she urged, begging him with her smile to be on her
side,--"dreadfully new! Must I wait three years before I sit here?"

"I'm afraid you'll not want to do it even then," he said pleasantly.
"You understand this bench--the C bench we call it--is for men; any man
above a freshman."

Kate gathered the hardihood to ask:--

"But why is it for men, please?"

"I don't know why. We men took it, I suppose." He wasn't inclined to
apologize apparently; he seemed to think that if the men wanted it they
had a right to it.

"This bench was given to the men, perhaps?" she persisted, not knowing
how to move away.

"No," admitted the young man; "I don't believe it was. It was presented
to the University by a senior class."

"A class of men?"

"Naturally not. A graduating class is composed of men and women. C
bench," he explained, "is the center of activities. It's where the drum