Who was she?  One thing I knew—­she must be a student, and an art student under Professor Grant in the Fine Arts Department.

This was the incident that decided me to enroll again as regular student, and to fold my tent, leave my solitary island, and return to town ... where I sought out Frank Randall, and he again offered me the room I had given up.  And he gave me work as his bookkeeper, several hours of the day ... which work I undertook to perform in return for my room.  In addition he gave me two dollars a week extra.

* * * * *

One afternoon soon after my enrollment, I met Ally Merton coming down hill.

“Well, here I am, as I said I’d be,” said he.

He was, as usual, dressed to perfection—­not a minute ahead of the style, not a minute behind ... gentle-voiced and deferential, learning to be everywhere without being noticed anywhere.

“I see you’re still eccentric in dress ... sandals ... shirt open at the neck ... denim too ... cheap brown socks ... corduroys....”

“Yes, but look,” I jested in reply, “I wear a tie ... and the ends pull exactly even.  That’s the one thing you taught me about correct dressing that I’ll never forget.”

“If I could only persuade you, Johnnie, of the importance of little things, of putting one’s best foot forward ... of personal appearance ... why create an initial prejudice in the minds of people you meet, that you’ll afterward have to waste valuable time in trying to remove?”

“Where are you putting up, Ally?”

“At the Phi Nus” (the bunch that went in the most for style and society) “I’m a Phi Nu, keep in touch with me, Johnnie.”

“Keep in touch with me,” was Merton’s stock phrase....

“Mr. Mackworth asked me particularly to look you up, and ‘take care of’ you ... you made a hit with him ... but he’s very much concerned about you—­thinks you’re too wild and erratic.”

* * * * *

The tinshop was a noisy place, as I have said before.  It was as uproarious as a boiler factory.  All day long there was hammering, banging, and pounding below ... but I was growing used to it ... as you do to everything which must be.

Keeping Randall’s books occupied a couple of hours each morning or afternoon, whenever I chose.  All the rest of the day I had free....

* * * * *

I had almost come to the conclusion that the girl I had seen in the moonlight had been an apparition conjured up by my own imagination, when I glimpsed her, one afternoon, walking toward Hewitt Hall, where the art classes held session, in the upper rooms.  I followed the girl, a long way behind.  I saw her go in through the door to a class where already a group of students sat about with easels, painting from a girl-model ... fully clothed ... for painting from the nude was not allowed.  They had threshed that proposition out long before, Professor Grant explained to me, once,—­and the faculty had decided, in solemn conclave, that the farmers throughout the state were not yet prepared for that step....