The Jester of St. Timothy's

g on the arm of his brother's chair, put his arm around his neck and begged his forgiveness.

"As if I could ever like to teach anybody else as much as I like to teach you!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Lawrence; I'll try to keep a little better grip on myself."

Sometimes it seemed to Irving odd that Lawrence should be so slow at his books; Irving did not fail to realize that with the neighbors or with strangers, in any gathering whatsoever, Lawrence was always quick, sympathetic, interested; he himself was the one who seemed dull and immature.

It had been so with him at college; he had been merely the student of books. Social life he had had none, and only now, with the difference between his brother and himself enforcing a clearer vision, had he become aware of some deficiency in his education. In silence he envied Lawrence and wished that he too possessed such winning and engaging traits.

He realized the contrast with especial keenness on the afternoon when he and Lawrence began their eastward jour