Dress played
little part in every day college life, and for such occasions as socials
or Friday night debating society I soon learned from upper class girls to
mitigate ugly gowns with pretty ribbons. And I congratulated myself upon
the fact that I was not by any means the plainest girl in my class. My
face was hopeless, but my hard-won fight for an erect posture had given me
a bearing that seemed almost distinguished. And--well, even my face wasn't
so bad, I thought then!
We were a jolly set; most of us poor as church mice, and caring little.
Making rather a boast of it, indeed. John Burke's roommate, Jim Reeder,
cooked his own meals--mostly oatmeal--in his room and lived on less than a
dollar a week until fairly starved. I suppose they'll call him "old Hoss"
to his dying day. Until his mother moved to town, John was almost as ill-
fed. He was just completing his law course when I was a Freshman, and used
to make brave jests at poverty, even after his admission to the bar.
Of course I was glad to meet him again, and, though I was puzzled just at
first, to see how little older than I my former teacher was, yet
afterwards--why, I haven't answered his last--I don't know how many
letters; I simply must remember to write to him!
I think the best part of the teaching wasn't in the books.
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