colors.

Hugh had one terrifying experience before he finally got settled to his
work. It occurred the second day of classes. He was comfortably seated
in what he thought was his English class--he had come in just as the
bell rang--when the instructor announced that it was a class in French.
What was he to do? What would the instructor do if he got up and left
the room? What would happen if he didn't report at his English class?
What would happen to him for coming into his English class late? These
questions staggered his mind. He was afraid to stay in the French class.
Cautiously he got up and began to tiptoe to the door.

"Wrong room?" the instructor asked pleasantly.

Hugh flushed. "Yes, sir." He stopped dead still, not knowing what to do
next.

He was a typical rattled freshman, and the class, which was composed of
sophomores, laughed. Hugh, angry and humiliated, started for the door,
but the instructor held up a hand that silenced the class; then he
motioned for Hugh to come to his desk.

"What class are you looking for?"

"English One, sir, Section Seven." He held out his schedule card,
reassured by the instructor's kindly manner.

The instructor looked at the card and then consulted a printed schedule.

"Oh," he said, "your adviser made a mistake. He got you into the wrong