“Which house?” she asked.

We described it.

“That’s where I live,” said she.

And to think we had twice been late!

“You live there?”

“Yes.  It was my elder sister whom you saw.”  Then we all smiled, for we had spoken of the chill which had accompanied the rebuff.

“Do you think your sister will let us come to-morrow for breakfast?” ventured my companion.

“If you’re there by eight.”

“Because,” he added, “breakfast is our last meal here.”

“You’re going away?”

“Yes.  About noon.”

“Oh,” she said.  And we hoped the way she said it meant that she was just the least bit sorry we were going.

With that she started to move on again.

“We’ll see you at breakfast, then?”

“Perhaps,” she said in a casual tone, continuing on her way.

“Not surely?”

“Why not come and see?” The words were wafted back to us provocatively upon the evening air.

“We will!  Good night.”

“Good night.”

We walked some little way in silence.

“Eight o’clock!” murmured my companion presently in a reflective, rueful tone.  “We must turn in early.”

We did turn in early, and we should have been asleep early was it not for the fact that among the chief wonders of Columbus must be ranked its roosters—­birds of a ghastly habit of nocturnal vocalism.

But though these creatures interfered somewhat with our slumbers, and though eight is an early hour for us, we reached the neighboring house next morning five minutes ahead of time.  And though the manner of the elder sister was, as before, austere, that made no difference, for the younger sister was there.

After breakfast we dallied, chatting with her for a time; then a bell began to toll, and my companion reminded me that I had an engagement to visit the Industrial Institute and College before leaving.

It was quite true.  I had made the engagement the day before, but it had been my distinct understanding that he was to accompany me; for if anything disconcerts me it is to go alone to such a place.  However sweet girls may be as individuals, or in small groups, they are in the mass diabolically cruel, and their cruelty is directed especially against men.  I know.  I have walked up to a college building to pay a call, while thirty girls, seated on the steps, played, sang, and whistled an inane marching tune, with the rhythm of which my steps could not but keep time.  I have been the only man in a dining-room full of college girls.  A hundred of them put down their knives and forks with a clatter as I entered, and a hundred pairs of mischievously solemn eyes followed my every movement.  Voluntarily to go through such experiences alone a man must be in love.  And certainly I was not in love with any girl at the Industrial Institute.

“We both have an engagement,” I said.