afresh for his eyes; for truly, the Walnut Valley in any
mood needs only eyes that see to be called a goodly land.
And it was because of the magnificent vista, unfolding in woodland,
and winding river, and fertile field, and far golden prairie--
it was because of the unconscious power of all this upon
the student mind, that Dr. Fenneben had set his college up here.

On this September afternoon, the Dean sat looking out on this
land of pure delight a-quiver in the late summer sunshine.
Nature had done well by Lloyd Fenneben. His height was commanding,
and he was slender, rather than heavy, with ease of movement
as if the play of every muscle was nerved to harmony.
His heavy black hair was worn a trifle long on the upper
part of his head and fell in masses above his forehead.
His eyes were black and keen under heavy black brows.
Every feature was strong and massive, but saved from
sternness by a genial kindliness and sense of humor.
Whoever came into his presence felt that magnetic power only
a king of his kind can possess.

Long the Dean sat gazing at the gleaming landscape and the sleepy town beyond
the campus and the pigeons circling gracefully above a little cottage,
hidden by trees, up the river.

"A wonderful region!" he murmured. "If that old white-haired brother of mine
digging about the roots of Greek and Sanscrit back in Harvard could only
see all this, maybe he might understand why I choose to stay here with my
college instead of tying up with a university back East. But, maybe not.
We are only step-brothers. He is old enough to be my father, and with
all his knowledge of books he could never read men. However, he sent