The more professors, the more hopeless
his prospects, the greater the necessity
for action. Now or never was the tune
to strike a blow. That same evening
he shut himself in his room and wrote
a letter to Miss Penelope. I was dumb
founded when he told me what he had
done, but the lettr was posted—there
was no help for it now. We did not
see her next morning, a circumstance
which put Smith so much out that if
I had not held him by the coat he
would have rushed into the sacred
precincts of ladies’ hall to find out what
was the matter. No sooner was the
afternoon class dismissed than Smith
rushed down the hill at break-neck
speed and made for his lodgings. When
I got in, he was up in his room, look
ing with a very woe-begone expression
at a letter he held in his hand, and
which involuntarily he handed to me.
It was from Miss Penelope, and was
in these words.
“Sir—l have your note, and am sur
prised and pained at its contents. The
little I had seen of you had not pre
pared me for such a gratuitous insult.
It is my express desire to have no com
munication whatever with you.
“I am, sir, yours respectfully,
“Ladies Hall, Tuesday. “Penelope.”—
“Don't you wish now, Smith, that you
had taken my advice?” 1 asked, as
he took the letter and read it again.
“It is very neatly written—that is
nice paper—l like the way she writes
her name,” Smith said, gazing with
pleasure and admiration at the letter.
