"Seniors," replied the robin. "Do you not know, then, that seniors are the sovereigns of this place? Indeed, I assure you, it is true. We have their own confession for it. Listen while I tell you the words of these two as they passed by.
"'Well, it is almost over,' said one. 'And next year what do you suppose will become of the college?'
"'It is too dreadful to think of,' said the other. 'Some of our class may come back as graduates. That is the only hope.'
"'And even then they cannot help the Undergraduate Association. And they will be too few to manage Self-Government. Oh, this dear old college! It is too terrible to think of leaving it to go to rack and ruin. And just when everything is in the best condition possible! Imagine the Editorial Board without some member from '93! And the standard of class work is sure to fall next year.'
"'And the gymnasium, too. To be sure most of us are making up conditions in the gym, but then——'
"'Oh, there is no help for it! The college is sure to go down now. And it has been rapidly rising for four years! It is too cruel!'"
The robin paused. Then he hopped confidingly towards the sparrow and, cocking his head on one side, whispered, "If you will take the trouble to listen you will hear conversations like that every spring on this campus. Now you know what seniors are."
L. S. B. S., '93; G. E. T. S.,'93.