ble to effect a great saving in the size of beds. Also, in case any limb, or part of a limb, as, for example, the funny-bone, were injured, the limb could be sent to the doctor to be repaired without laying up the entire machine.

These are only a few of the suggestions the eminent efficiency expert made. All that remains to be done now, he

says, is to figure out a way of installing these improvements in the human machine. He is working on the problem.

layer

know what he wanted to do.

So he took Latin and Mathematics and hoped they'd discipline his mind. And prepare him for sharing in polite

intercourse.

After three years he knew that two straight lines perpendicular to the same plane

Are parallel to each other.

And for a short time he could say what were both sine and cosecant;

But a month after the examination he

unhappily forgot which was which. He had learned a list of diminutives; only culum and bulum remained to him

So sweet was their euphony. He knew the mute with 1 or r played a mystic rôle in the higher life, Which in moments of depression he felt he did n't grasp.

An old book by an old man for the old Tightened the reins of his youthful spirit. When he reached the two gates of

slumber at the end of Lib. VI They gave him ready exit, and he never began Lib. VII.

But he had the elements of a liberal

education, and,

Like his philistine father before him,

So that he rode down-town in his limousine at ten A.M., preceded by six inches of cigar,

He said to his son George: "George, college did worlds for me. I don't remember a darned thing I learned there, but

The fellows I played round with are
now my fellow-directors,

And my intimacy with them is profitable.
Which college do you prefer?"
And George said,

"Thank you, Father,"

And selected the college that had just made a clean sweep in major sports.

So George went.

He learned lots of things.

Although he did n't catch the sort of cultivation to which occasional contact with the faculty exposed him,

He learned that the most important thing in life

Is that the score on November 20 should be 16-0 and not 0-16.

And the next most important thing is to get by with a C in at least three out of five courses.

He learned what loyalty to an educational institution is,

To smoke cigarettes on the bleachers and yell at last practice.

He learned that the first and great

commandment is,

Thou shalt bet on thy teams and refrain from independent thinking and look with a skeptic eye on Phi Beta Карра.

Thus did college instil in George a sense of proportion,

A sense of permanent values.
So he went out into the world,

And he said, "I'll lie low till it comes

my way, Then I'll show 'em." And it came his way.

He could talk sports and stocks and drinks and motor-cars with the best of the brokers,

And he got promoted in the bank because he had belonged to Beta Veta Delta and played left tackle.

To-day he has three limousines to his father's one,

And a town house

And a yacht

And a place at Tuxedo

And a camp in the Adirondacks with twenty guest-rooms and thirty baths. And when the application blanks for the boat-race come around

He puts fifty dollars on the crew,
And with the words,

"It is n't the studies that count in college, It's the college life,"

He thanks his father's memory for his education.

F. L. A.

HE had won.

SHE

She had succeeded in putting the "other woman" out of his life. The way she did it was to show him such writhing, despairing, menacing suffering that he was completely crumpled. He never could endure pain. He was born for happiness. Nature, sitting off to one side, and musing on her handiwork, might have said of him: "What's the use of a dimple like that if not to be shown? Let those without dimples look solemn." Intellectually, he always welcomed struggle, and his bill for books far exceeded all others. But emotionally, while susceptible, and hungering for far more than his disappointingly empty marriage had given him, he shrank from stress, and he dipped into life rather lightly. He did it very charmingly, too, and with a fair degree of pleasure for himself when things went smoothly, but he was not geared for trouble.

So when it came, he followed the line of least resistance, that being to relieve her suffering, which was apparently greater than his in giving up the "other woman." And as for the "other woman," he knew he could count on her not to let her own suffering show, and anything he did n't have to see he knew he could endure. It was n't for him to do this, but it was easier than any alternative he could pic

ture.

easy

Therefore he lied his way back to a situation which he conscientiously prepared, tended, and labeled "her happiness." "She pathetically smiled her gratitude and said, "Just give me time."

He was immensely assisted and compensated in this effort by the fact that he had recently become vividly aware of the overwhelming charm of his little daughter, who inherited his keen, rather playful attitude toward life, likewise his dimple. He realized that any upheaval involving the "other woman" would doubtless deprive him of this new joy. So he found

himself held fast by a combination of love for his daughter, gallantry for his wife, and his own dread of witnessing pain.

Both worked hard at the undertaken task of her happiness, he whenever it confronted him apart from his work, his books, his many interests, connections, acquaintances, the various forms of emotional stimulation which he still enjoyed, and his daughter; and she every hour in the twenty-four, of all the days of every month, for many years, tensely, tearfully, patiently, gratefully. But always there could be seen in the depths of her hungry eyes a fear.

Whenever the fear surged up big and portentous, and threatened to engulf her whole being, she worked the more feverishly over everything that concerned the daughter's welfare, giving almost prayerful devotion to every smallest detail of her health, her clothing, her education, her amusements. Such work felt real to her. It gave her a sense of being needed, and, besides, it was all for his daughter. Sometimes she could nearly still the fear by telephoning to him in his office, and it helped to shorten the long days, too. Occasionally his voice indicated that he was busy and found it difficult to say just the needed thing, but often he sounded splendidly reassuring, and at such times the fear melted down, down to almost nothing, and momentarily she basked in the relief as a tired convalescent does in the Yet it never wholly disappeared. It never left her so she could sink into a peaceful sleep and wake to find it gone. It was the one thing she knew was utterly and inevitably her own.

sun.

He did his best, and was always sorry when his efforts were uneven. He vibrated between states of nervous depression and an incorrigible, inappropriate buoyancy. He told her of the various problems in his business, which he loved; he described the different interesting per

sonalities of those with whom he lunched (or most of them; all except those he thought would increase her fear); he brought all manner of clever people home to dinner; he talked of the books he read; he took her to the theater, to meetings, so she could be in touch with all the isms of the day; and, what was really the longest reach for him, he listened while she told the whole story of what filled the days for her while he was at the office. He was a good deal of an artist, and often these endeavors of his gave him real delight. He described people and episodes with the humor and verve of a skilled writer, and he often felt a glow of achievement that was not all due to her gratitude.

She envied him his ability and his obvious happiness in the exercise of it. Somehow this man whom she had won for the second time, and who was hers (at least he did n't belong to another now), was as unconfinable as an odor. He was close to her, but far away.

He was faithful, affectionate, devoted, even passionate at times, but yet remote. He had given her everything; he had done as he had promised, had wiped out the past (the "other woman"), had built again with her. But what was it that was built? Where was it? She would get to it if she could only see the way. But all that showed to her anxious eyes was a crisscross of roads, with

a mist clouding every one, and at every turn that same old haunting fear.

As to the "other woman," she had helped him keep his promise to give her up (that was part of loving him), and had gone her way, not, of course, rejoicing at first, but finally. She had learned somewhat about doing a hard thing like that when she had pulled away from the wreck of her own marriage a few years before, and she knew now as then that her children needed and deserved a happy mother. As she put it: "A heartbroken woman is of no particular use to herself or the world; so why be one? And besides, what happiness I have known can't be lost. It's mine, and nothing can hurt it. And perhaps some day, somehow, things will be arranged so there will be room for all the choked-off happinesses to blossom freely, each without sapping the life of another. Meanwhile, there's a deal of interesting work to be done, and more than one kind of joy to be had. And then, too,"-this she said very softly to herself as a sort of postscript to her conclusions,-"he and I might not have kept the flame alive, either. We might have found ourselves just going through the motions like most of the others. It may be better as it is."

This story has no ending. It is still going on, and she who had won is getting what she asked for-time.