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Kansas University Weekly.
in her nature, a certain frankness and innocence that "no one," as she said "minded what she did." But beside that, there was the fact of interest. The most conspicuous trait in Alice was her never-failing abounding interest in everything and every body. She was never bored, she always wanted to know all about it; and nobody can tell what a multitude of sins this pure interest will cover.
So there was a girl in a far off town who, knowing these facts and many others that not all people were aware of, scanned Allison's letters anxiously each week, and spent much thought on how the world wagged in the college town.
Well, time went on, as time has a playful habit of doing when one attends the University and Alice and Fred were naturally thrown, more or less, in contact with each other. At first, their intimacy was less, but gradually as the year went on it grew more, and when once well started, quite rapidly. Until at last there arose a rumor of a new "case" in progress. An energetic girl friend told Alice of course, and she equally of course, laughed and said "nonsense!" after the manner of college girls. But she did not tell Fred about it.
From that time she noticed a peculiar change in her feeling toward Allison. Somehow his opinions and his wishes came to have, she told herself, a really ridiculous weight in determining her conduct. There was a curious vacancy in the atmosphere when she went to a party to which he didn't happen to be invited; and though her program could boast numberless more extras than were danced, she didn't think that she'd had the best time of anybody in the room, which is the proper thing in such a case.
And though the matter of Fred's feeling toward Ethel grew to be of more and more consequence to her she let slip opportunity after opportunity without even making an attempt to discover it.
and standing on the porch took long breaths of the fresh air. "Today" she said to herself, "Today, I shall settle this. It is simply a matter of fact, and I must know if he cares for Ethel. I ought to have found out long ago. But I will, this day."
It was the morning of the day before Commencement. Alice came down stairs early,
Then, for a moment, she caught her breath and stared in the face a Possibility that sent all the blood from her red lips.
When the mail came that morning there was a plump letter for Alice in a bold dashing handwriting. She read it through, growing paler and paler as if she faced, as indeed she did, the Possibility again, though for some one else. Then she seized a pen and wrote her answer, which darkened some one's home coming. It said only, "No, no, no. Forgive me, but I never can. How sorry, how sorry I am!—Alice."
They came down the hill together in the afternoon, Alice and Fred, as usual; and the thought that it was probably the last time made them both a little more silent than ordinary. A temptingly shady and grassy spot enticed them and they seated themselves comfortably on the grass and talked of many trivial things about which neither cared a penny. At last, however, silence fell upon them and they watched the quiver of the leaves against the vivid blue of the June sky.
"Fred," said Alice, after a little while, mentally drawing a long breath. "Tell me. Do you—are you in love with Ethel?"
A curious sort of change passed over Allison's face. He laughed constrainedly. "Why do you think that?" he said.
"Because," she answered. Then she threw a quick glance at him. "Of course," she went on calmly, "you know you don't have to tell me if you prefer not. But I rather imagined that, as we had been very good friends this year, you would believe in me enough, think me trustworthy enough, to give me some of your confidence."
Fred had just put his hands under his head and was lying flat on his back, looking up at the weave of green over head.