"I've no objection to the mountain top," said he.

"But I see that, if I get there, it'll have to be in my own way.

Let's go out and mail the letter." And they went down the drive together to the post box, and, strolling back, sat under the trees in the moonlight until nearly midnight, feeling as if they had only just begun life together--and had begun it right.
* * * * * When Charles Whitney had read the letter he tore it up, saying half-aloud and contemptuously, "I was afraid there was too big a streak of fool in him." Then, with a shrug: "What's the use of wasting time on that little game--especially as I'd probably have left the university the whole business in my will." He wrote Scarborough, proposing that they delay the assessment until he had a chance to look further into the railway situation.

"I begin to understand the troubles down there, now that I've taken time to think them over.

I feel I can guarantee that no assessment will be necessary." And when the railways had mysteriously and abruptly ceased to misbehave, and the strike had suddenly fizzled out, he offered his stock to the university as a gift.