house after the game, to let people see the classes make their
call on the head of the University. The house was full of people;
the yard was filled with gay dresses and men gathered to see the
parade.

On the high stone steps under the arch of the doorway stood the
president and close by him the white, light figure of a little
girl, her black hair tied with a big blue bow. Clustered in the
shadow behind them were other figures. Johnny McLean saw the
little maid and then his gaze was riveted on the president.
It surely was good to see him again; this man who knew how to
make them all swear by him.

"What will he have to say to us," Johnny wondered. "Something
that will please the whole bunch, I'll bet. He always hits it."

"Men of the class of -," the president began, in his deep,
characteristic intonations, "I know that there is only one name
you want to hear me speak; only one thought in all the minds
of your class."

A hoarse murmur which a second's growth would have made into a
wild shout started in the throats of the massed men behind the
class banner. The president held up his hand.

"Wait a minute. We want that cheer; we'll have it; but I've got
a word first. A great speaker who talked to you boys in your
college course said a thing that came to my mind to-day.
'The courage of the commonplace,' he said, 'is greater than the
courage of the crisis.'"