had a great many old-time friends and business acquaintances in Boston
who could be trusted with a nominal supervision of his son for four
years. He had no college education himself, but in some vague way he
felt convinced that Vandover would be a better artist for a four years'
course at Harvard.

Vandover took his father's decision hardly. He had never thought of
being a college-man and nothing in that life appealed to him. He urged
upon his father the loss of time that the course would entail, but his
father met this objection by offering to pay for any artistic tuition
that would not interfere with the regular college work.

Little by little the idea of college life became more attractive to
Vandover; at the worst, it was only postponing the Paris trip, not
abandoning it. Besides this, two of his chums from the High School were
expecting to enter Harvard that fall, and he could look forward to a
very pleasant four years spent in their company.

Out at Cambridge the term was just closing. The Old Gentleman's friends
procured him tickets to several of the more important functions. From
the gallery of Memorial Hall Vandover and his father saw some of the
great dinners; they went up to New London for the boat-race; they gained
admittance to the historic Yard on Class-day, and saw the strange
football rush for flowers around the "Tree." They heard the seniors sing
"Fair Harvard" for the last time, and later saw them receive their
diplomas at Sander's Theatre.

The great ceremonies of the place, the picturesqueness of the elm-shaded
Yard, the old red dormitories covered with ivy, the associations and
traditions of the buildings, the venerable pump, Longfellow's room, the