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A figure brushed violently into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He turned and his eyes pierced the trembling darkness of the arc-light to find the little preceptor blinking apprehensively at him from his gargoyle’s eyes.

“Good evening.”

He was hesitatingly recognized.

“Ah—how do you do? How do you do? Foggy evening, hope I didn’t jar you.”

“Not at all. I was just admiring the serenity.” He paused and almost felt presumptuous.

“Are you—ah—pretending to be a student again?”

“I just ran out to see the place. Stay a night perhaps.” Somehow this sounded far-fetched to him. He wondered if it did to the other.

“Yes?—I’m doing the same thing. My brother is an instructor here now you know. He’s putting me up for a space.” For an instant the other longed fiercely that he too might be invited to be “put up for a space.”

“Are you walking up my way?”

“No—not quite yet.”

The gargoyle smiled awkwardly. “Well, good-night.”

There was nothing more to say. Eyes staring, he watched the little figure walking off, propelled jerkily by his ridiculous legs.