be out of that ole school, and then all he'd have to do he'd just take
care never to walk by her house; it was easy enough to use some other
street when he had to go down-town.

"The good ole class of Nineteen-Fourteen is about gone," he said to Fred
Mitchell, who was still his most intimate friend when they reached the
senior year. "Yes, sir; it's held together a good many years, Fred, but
after June it'll be busted plum up, and I hope nobody starts a move to
have any reunions. There's a good many members of the ole class that I
can stand and there's some I can't, but there's one I just won't! If we
ever did call a reunion, that ole Yocum girl would start in right away
and run the whole shebang, and that's where I'd resign! You know, Fred,
the thing _I_ think is the one biggest benefit of graduating from this
ole school? It's never seein' Dora Yocum again."

This was again his theme as he sat by the same friend's side, in the
rear row of the class at Commencement, listening to the delivery of
the Valedictory. "Thinks she's just sooblime, don't she!" he whispered
morosely. "She wouldn't trade with the President of the United States
right now. She prob'ly thinks bein' Valedictorian is more important than
Captain of the State University Eleven. Never mind!" And here his tone
became huskily jubilant. "Never mind! Just about a half-an-hour more
and that's the last o' _you_, ole girl! Yes, sir, Fred; one thing we can
feel pretty good over: this is where we get through with Dora Yocum!"

Ramsey and Fred had arranged to room together at Greenfield, the seat
of the state university, and they made the short journey in company the
following September. They arrived hilarious, anticipating pleasurable
excitements in the way of "fraternity" pledgings and initiations,
encounters with sophomores, class meetings, and elections; and, also,