time. A little gentle rubbing off of the "mamma's-good-little-boy"
veneering would do him good. He wasn't sure but with such a course
Marshall might even be eligible for the frat. that year. He sauntered
along with his hands in his pockets; a handsome, capable, powerful
figure; not taking any part in the preparations, but mildly interested
in the plans. His presence lent enthusiasm to the gathering. He was high
in authority. A star athlete, an A student, president of his fraternity,
having made the Phi Beta Kappa in his junior year, and now in his senior
year being chairman of the student exec. There would be no trouble with
the authorities of the college if Court was along to give countenance.

Courtland stood opposite the end door when it was unceremoniously thrust
open and the hilarious mob rushed in. From his position with his back
against the wall he could see Stephen lift his fine head from his book
and rise to greet them. There was surprise and a smile of welcome on his
face. Courtland thought it almost a pity to reward such open-heartedness
as they were about to do; but such things were necessary in the making
of men. He watched developments with interest.

A couple of belated participants in the fray arrived breathlessly,
shedding their mackinaws as they ran, and casting them down at
Courtland's feet.

"Look after those, will you, Court? We've got to get in on this,"
shouted one as he thrust a noisy bit of flannel head-gear at Courtland.

Courtland gave the garments a kick behind him and stood watching.

There was a moment's tense silence while they told the victim what they
had come for, and while the light of welcome in Stephen Marshall's eyes