or honeysuckle, came to me as registration officer, and asked me to waive a college rule in her favor.
"I am very sorry," I said, with customary mild severity, "I can't let you do it. I have no authority in the matter."
"Well," she replied, "who has? Who can?" And she looked into my eyes with searching and almost painful sweetness.
"You might," I said, faltering, "you might go to the Dean. A Dean is the only one that breaks rules. You might ask him, but I doubt if it will do you any good. Our Dean is a very firm man. He's a New Englander, you know, a Puritan, with a stiff conscience."
"Tell me something," she said softly, "will you?"
"Yes," I replied, "if I can." I was ready to do anything for her, short of breaking the rule.
"Is this Dean of yours a bachelor or a married man?"
"A bachelor," I answered, "a bachelor of forty."
"Oh, that's all right," she cried gaily, as she gathered up her papers, "I'll fix him."
If, now, you take the spirit of this fair Georgian and mold it a little under the pressures of the hour, you produce an outstanding
