shrill yelping arose, as of an Apache war-party. "It's the boys," said Jean. "What on earth has possessed them?" But Stover had planned no ordinary reception, and the pandemonium did not cease until the men had emptied their weapons. Then Mr. J. Wallingford Speed came stumbling up the steps and into the arms of his friends, the tails of his dust-coat streaming. "Really? This is more than I expected," he gasped; then turning, doffed his straw hat to the half-revealed figures beyond the light, and cried, gayly: "Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you for missing me!" "Yow--ee!" responded the cowboys. "How do you do, Miss Chapin!" Speed shook hands with his hostess, and in the radiance from the open doorway she saw that his face was round and boyish, and his smile peculiarly engaging. She welcomed him appropriately; then said: "This reception is quite as startling to us as to you. You know, Mr. Speed, that we have with us a friend of yours." She slightly drew Helen forward. "And this is Mrs. Keap, who is looking after us a bit while mother is away. Roberta, may I present Mr. Covington's friend, and ask you to be good to him?" "Don't forget me," said Fresno, pushing into the light. "Mr. Berkeley Fresno, of Leland Stanford University." "Hello, Frez!" Speed thrust out his hand warmly. Not so the Californian. He replied, with hauteur: "Fresno! F-r-e-s-n-o"; and allowed the new-comer to grasp a limp, moist hand. "Ah! Go to the head of the class! I'm sorry you broke your wrist, however." The Eastern lad spoke lightly, and gave the palm a hearty squeeze, then turned to Jean. "I dare say you are all disappointed, Miss Chapin, that Culver didn't come with me, but he'll be along in a day or so. I simply couldn't wait." He avoided glancing at Helen Blake, whose answering blush was lost in the darkness. "I did think when you drove up that might be Mr. Covington with you," Miss Chapin remarked, wistfully.