AT THE CORNER OF LOVERS' LANE
them up—just as you and I might look over a crowd of girls on the campus.
"Meanwhile the storm got so bad that the coach people decided not to push on to Princeton until the next day, but there was one passenger, a fat old bloke—a Major or something—who seemed to be in a great hurry, so, as he couldn't get the coach to take him he hired a wagon—an open wagon was the only thing he could get—and swore that he would push on alone with only his servant with him. And then my ancestor's pal came galloping back to Princeton, covered with mud and sweat, to tell the news.
"'Just our meat,' says my ancestor, or words to that effect.
"'And he has a wallet,' said the other, 'that he watches as closely as a baby.'
"'We'll open it later to-night,' says my ancestor reflectively.
"'And he's coming up the lower road, although it's the muddier, in order to avoid highwaymen.'
"'We're all likely to make mistakes,' said David, who had a quiet way of saying
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