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ILLUSTRATIONS

In the aperture stood my amazing neighbour ... Frontispiece

I found myself staring as if stupefied at the white figure of a woman

who stood in the topmost balcony.

I sat bolt upright and yelled: "Get out!"

We faced each other across the bowl of roses

Up to that moment I had wondered whether I could do it with my left hand

CHAPTER I

I MAKE NO EFFORT TO DEFEND MYSELF

I am quite sure it was my Uncle Rilas who said that I was a fool. If

memory serves me well he relieved himself of that conviction in the

presence of my mother--whose brother he was--at a time when I was

least competent to acknowledge _his_ wisdom and most arrogant in

asserting my own. I was a freshman in college: a fact--or condition,

perhaps,--which should serve as an excuse for both of us. I possessed

another uncle, incidentally, and while I am now convinced that he must

have felt as Uncle Rilas did about it, he was one of those who suffer

in silence. The nearest he ever got to openly resenting me as a freshman

was when he admitted, as if it were a crime, that he too had been in

college and knew less when he came out than when he entered. Which was

a mild way of putting it, I am sure, considering the fact that he

remained there for twenty-three years as a distinguished member of the

faculty.

I assume, therefore, that it was Uncle Rilas who orally convicted me,

an assumption justified to some extent by putting two and two together

after the poor old gentleman was laid away for his long sleep. He had

been very emphatic in his belief that are soon

parted. Up to the time of his death I had been in no way qualified to

dispute this ancient theory. In theory, no doubt, I was the kind of

fool he referred to, but in practice I was quite an untried novice.

It is very hard for even a fool to part with something he hasn't got.

True, I parted with the little I had at college with noteworthy

promptness about the middle of each term, but that could hardly have

been called a fair test for the adage. Not until Uncle Rilas died and

left me all of his money was I able to demonstrate that only dead men

and fools part with it. The distinction lies in the capacity for

enjoyment while the sensation lasts. Dead men part with it because

they have to, fools because they want to.

In any event, Uncle Rilas did not leave me his money until my freshman

days were far behind me, wherein lies the solace that he may have

outgrown an opinion while I was going through the same process. At

twenty-three I confessed that _all_ freshmen were insufferable,

and immediately afterward took my degree and went out into the world

to convince it that seniors are by no means adolescent. Having

successfully passed the age of reason, I too felt myself admirably

qualified to look with scorn upon all creatures employed in the business

of getting an education. There were times when I wondered how on earth

I could have stooped so low as to be a freshman. I still have the

disquieting fear that my uncle did not modify his opinion of me until

I was thoroughly over being a senior. You will note that I do not say

he changed his opinion. Modify is the word.

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