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 interest in these things and equal cleverness in adapting themselves to new social conditions.

It is the regular fusser, however, well dressed and "high man" with the ladies, who in every college community with which I am familiar, gives more time to society than to his studies, and monopolizes, to the exclusion of his sturdier companions, the social life of the college. Every organization has one or two such men, and they are so adroit in getting rapidly from one place to another that they seem much more numerous than they really are. Sometimes they devote themselves to one young woman exclusively, though this concentrated devotion is seldom for long, and almost never results in anything serious or remotely related to matrimony; sometimes like the busy bee they flit from flower to flower never stopping long enough in any one parlor to form more than a speaking acquaintance with the inmates. Some fussers try hard to get their names into every social pot that is boiling.

I have a young freshman in mind—Harold I think his fond mother named him. He goes tearing down the street while I am at breakfast to meet Ethel and to carry her books to an eight o'clock, at eleven I see him riding with Grace in her dual power car, and at three, as I look out of my window upon the back campus, I catch a glimpse of him strolling languorously with Blanche. I have no doubt that before dinner he has paid court to other susceptible hearts and that by bed-time he has sat in the easy chair at one sorority house at least. He is a hard worker, this callow young freshman, but it is not at