"Faculty table?" I repeated blankly.

"Yes, over there with the letter-carriers," he explained, and I entered hesitantly, irresistibly drawn to the place, but almost afraid to stay.

I looked about and saw many familiar faces, heard snatches of old familiar stories. The conversation was general, but occasionally a voice would rise above the buzz of chatter.

"A dollar a minute, yessir, a dollar a minute," I heard . . . "Yes, we have two maids now" . . . "And the boss said, 'I've been watching you, young fellow,' and I want . . ." "The hours after supper did it." . . . "'Do you think you could swing Jim Perkins' job?" he asks me and I says, 'Sure, I been working with the I. C. S. evenings!" . . . "I bought Mary that dress she wanted, and I says, 'Take this, I'm making real money now.'"

There was much more, but it was cut short by the chairman, who tapped his, water glass authoritatively and arose. "Men of the I. C. S.," he announced in clarion tones, "I have the honor and privilege to tell you that our most distinguished alumnus, Mr. Addison Sims of Seattle, the merger king, has endowed our institution so generously that in the future all our courses will be conducted by special delivery."

The speaker could go no farther. A storm of applause swept the banquet hall. Someone proposed a "regular I. C. S. for Sims, fellows, and make it good." In the enthusiasm of the moment, I felt my resolution born anew. It was not too late! I would start now, and I would succeed! Some day I too would come home, put my dinner pall on the table, and say. "Little woman, don't worry about that new dress--I'm making real money now."