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 broke into applause. A wave of sound swept the corridor; the clapping of hands, shouts, laughter mingled in a confused babel, through which came the piping cry of a small freshman:

"Happy birthday, sir!"

Mr. Grayson retreated before the outbreak, amazement, relief, embarrassment struggling for mastery. Uncertainly he laid his hat and gloves on the desk, and in the act caught sight of the card. He picked it up and read the inscription. It seemed to take him a long time. Perhaps he couldn't see very well, for he removed his glasses, drew the silk handkerchief from a pocket and began to rub the lenses furiously. Then, pausing in that, he took up the card once more and walked to the door and through it to the corridor, the throng giving way before him and the tumult increasing as those at the far end of the corridor caught sight of him. But gradually the noise ceased, and Mr. Grayson, clearing his throat nervously, began to speak.

"Young ladies and gentlemen," he said haltingly, "I—this—" He stopped helplessly and shook his head. "I'm too surprised to—to say what I'd like to. I never guessed that—" He paused again, but what it was he had never guessed they all under