"Are we two old fogies beginning to wear on each other?"
"I hope not. But when you go down, stop for Medora a minute and see if she hasn't got something to say."
Medora—when he finally got down stairs—had.
She laid some knitting on the drawing-room table and came out into the hall.
"No reading this afternoon, I judge. What I heard, or seemed to hear, was a broken flow of talk."
"No reading. Restless."
"So I was afraid. I'd rather have one good steady voice purring along for him, and then I know he's all right. Carolyn has been too busy lately. What seems to have unsettled him?"
"Oh, I don't know. Young life, possibly."
"Well, I've asked and asked the girls not to be quite so gay and chattery in the upper halls."
"You can't keep girls quiet."
"I don't want to—not everywhere and at all times."
"I have an idea that a given number of girls make more noise in a house than the same number of young fellows. I know that they do in boarding-houses and rooming-houses, and I believe it's so as between sororities and fraternities. Put a noise-gauge in the main hall of the Alpha-Alpha house and another in the main hall of the Beta-Beta house, and the girls would run the score above the boys every time. If ever I build a sorority house, it will be for the Delta-Iota-Nus, and a statue of the great goddess DIN herself shall stand just within the entrance."
