"All this is all right," Joe was saying, "for those who need it, but
what's the good of it all to us? For instance, what do you get out of
it, Marcia?"

"What do you think I want to get out of it? If you cared for the young
people's work at home, I should think you could see how 'all this,' as
you call it, would help you to do better work and more of it at
Delafield."

"As you ought to know pretty well, Marcia," Joe replied, "back home they
think I don't care much for the young people's work. It is a little too
prim and ready-to-wear for me, if you'll excuse me for saying so. No fun
in it at all, though I'll admit some of the classes here have more life
in them than I looked for."

One of the other girls, who knew him well enough to speak with large
frankness, came to the defense of them all, saying: "Well, Joe, I don't
see that you get very far with what you call fun. It's mostly at the
expense of other people, including your father, who pays the bills.
Besides, since you came home from college this spring, you seem to have
run out of nearly all the bright ideas you started with. I wonder if it
ever strikes you that being a sport, as you call it, is mostly being a
nuisance to everybody? Some of us long ago got over thinking you clever
and original. You must be getting over it yourself, by now, surely."

"Many thanks, dear lady, for them kind words," Joe responded, as he
bowed low in mock acknowledgment; "you make yourself quite plain, Miss
Alma Wetherell." He flung back the insult jauntily, as he and his
companions moved on, but at least one of the group suspected that the