Dancing is just one more intellectual pastime to most Harvard men, according to the proprietress of a studio in the Square. In fact, they are so "mental" about their dancing that they are inclined not to liberate their feet to any appreciable extent.

At present one of these hopeless cases has struggled through 18 private lessons to become quite a finished individual performer. But, alas, he is not always in seclusion, and in the company of others, any "savoir faire" he may have acquired is immediately lost and he becomes flustered. In this state, a scrimmage or even the lightess contact work with a neighboring couple invariably disillusions one more aspirant to fame, Hollywood, and Ginger Rogers.

Average patrons of the studio are not inclined to brag about attending the courses. On the contrary, secrecy is even maintained among the closest friends. Furtive entrances and exists are made to and from the studio at all times, and by far the busiest hours are around the dusk of the late afternoon. A chance meeting in the studio of a pair of Freshman roommates occasioned no small degree of embarrassment to both parties.

Not long ago, a telephone call was received by the studio to the effect that a Harvardian, who had never so much as stepped on a dance floor, desired to learn the intricacies of the bacchanal rhythm. The prices of both the four and ten lesson courses were stated, but no such intensive training was desired. "One will be enough," came the jaunty reply, "I learn easily."