CHAPTER V.Persimmons, '84, stood in his own room at 10.30 P.M. His face was aglow with pleasure. He had just returned from an evening party. Tootsy had been there, and they had had a long interview. All at length was settled. He and Tootsy were going to elope! They had been growing more and more fond of each other as their acquaintance ripened, and had finally found they could not exist apart.

Every thing had been arranged. She was to meet him at three o'clock precisely in front of Hubbard's drug-store, and they were to take the car and run away to Chelsea, and get married. Oh glorious scheme! Persimmons was elated; he danced for joy, and burst forth into rapturous melody.

"She's a darling,

She's a daisy,

She's a dumpling,

She's a la - "

A gentle rap. His door opens slowly, and an ear-trumpet is thrust in. Attached to the little end is a proctor (proctors always come out at the "little end of the horn"). He said, "Too much noise - your name, Mr. Persimmons, please - report - Dean - to-morrow."

Persimmons heard no more. He fell down in a swoon. He was a Freshman, and was not used to it.

CHAPTER VI.The next day the gentlemanly clerk in Hubbard's noticed a youth and a maiden standing on the sidewalk in front of his store. The haggard expression of the youth, his wild and unkempt locks, betokened a mind ill at ease. He was brandishing a postal card in his hand. It said: "You are requested to come to the Dean's office between 3 and 5 P.M." Signed, "Mrs. H-rr-s for Sec.

"Tootsy, I can't" he cried; "Tootsy, I must go to the Dean's office."

Suddenly the awful truth dawned upon her. He was a scape-grace, a bad boy (none but wicked boys get postals from the Dean). Aunt Meeker had told her of such things before, - but her own dear Persimmons! But her old love overcame all other considerations, and she exclaimed, "O Persimmons, dear, can't we?"

"Tootsy, 'twill be impossible; see this card! This card - singing last night - O Tootsy, so near, and yet so far!" - the bell rang three - "Tootsy, adieu!"

He staggered off, and she was left alone on the walk in a daze. She gazed in at the window of the store, her eyes riveted on a pile of porous-plasters. Did she think to heal her wounded heart? Slowly she entered the store, laid five cents on the counter, and said in a voice full of suppressed emotion, -

"Give - me - a - plain - soda."

And then the gentlemanly clerk knew that he was dealing with a poor little crushed and broken heart trying to drown its grief, and gently sidling behind the soda-fountain, he shed briny tears into the raspberry syrup.