"Well, here we are, old man," said Carl cheerfully, as he and Shirley stepped off the train. "We'll collect our bags and be off to our house in a jiffy. Jem and Jerry said they'd meet us with a cab, but I'm guessing they'll have forgotten. No surprise if they have!"

The two of them had come to Kingsport alone, Jem and Jerry having had to come a week earlier for their line of study—medicine and law, respectively. Una had accompanied Carl the previous year, but she was back at the manse now, helping Faith prepare for married life, her year-long Household Science course over and done with.

Shirley followed Carl quietly, glad of his friend's easy chatter. New experiences were always difficult for him, and he was already feeling somewhat nauseous with all the bodies crowding around them in the station. Nervous Freshmen, wandering around with panic-stricken looks in their eyes, self-important Sophomores, sneering openly at the inexperienced first-timers, Juniors and Seniors who brushed past everyone else as they weren't worthy of attention, all swirled and eddied around the two boys.

Shirley really didn't expect to see Jem and Jerry either; they were both so busy that they barely had time to remember to eat, much less pick up their little brothers, but just as he and Carl stepped out of the station, bags in hand, they saw Jerry coming toward them.

"You made it!" he called, waving his hand. "Sorry we're late. Everything is just plain crazy today! It'll be bad all week, 'til everyone gets settled in. Follow me, lads, Jem's waiting with the cab to make sure no one else takes it." He grabbed one of Carl's bags and set off to where Jem was awaiting them impatiently.

"You'll love the little house we're renting," said Jerry to Shirley as they rode off. "There are only three bedrooms—you and Carl will have to share—you don't mind, do you?"

"As long as Carl keeps the bugs and snakes out of my side," laughed Shirley.

"I told Jerry that he and Jem should share," put in Carl, "But he insisted that the two of them needed their privacy. For what, I'm not sure, unless it's writing long letters to their sweethearts."

Jem and Jerry's voices mixed and mingled in an indignant babble as Carl laughed softly, satisfied to have gotten a rise out of them. After their fury had spent itself, Jem continued telling Shirley about their "digs," as he expressed it.

"It's not much to speak of," he admitted. "Last year Una came by quite a bit and cooked and cleaned for us"—

"Class assignments," interjected Jerry.

"But we're definitely baching it this year," finished Jem.

Shirley shrugged. "Not to worry. Susan's sure to send plenty of goodies. If you're all nice to me, I might even share them with you."

"Besides that," Jem said, grinning, "Think of how impressed our wives will be when they find out we know how to cook and clean."

"Welcome to the new world," added in Jerry. "The husbands can keep house and the wives can have careers. But for tonight, I suggest we go to a restaurant after you boys get settled. I'm starved, and I don't fancy Carl's cooking. It's almost as bad as army rations—or Aunt Martha's ditto."

Laughing and joking, the four young men showed Shirley the tiny but tidy house and they headed back into town. Shirley was relieved to finally be at Redmond. He hoped, with a busy schedule and a good deal of studying, to be able to put Cecily out of his mind. The summer had been a depressing one, with everyone else busy and lively with their life plans, and him just quietly waiting for school to start. He knew that Mother and Susan were worried about him, but he chose not to confide in them. No, it had been a lonely summer, and he was glad to be moving forward with his goals once more.

Life soon settled into a routine for the four boys. They all paid tribute to their upbringing by taking equal turns with the cooking and cleaning; while nothing was fancy, it was neat and livable. Susan would have been proud. Aunt Martha, dead these many years, would have been shocked.

College also fell into place. Shirley found that the studying he had done in Avonlea stood him in good stead. He was able to keep near the top of all his classes with relative ease. Carl, of course, was head of all the Sophomore science classes, although his skills in other departments—such as Literature and Philosophy—were lacking. Except for mealtimes, they rarely saw Jem or Jerry. Jem was in his last year of medical school and determined to graduate well. Jerry had another year after that, but was already striving to make a name for himself.

And so the days slipped by. At first, Shirley had to firmly restrain himself from writing to Cecily, or thinking of her constantly. As his days got busier it became easier, but he saw no girls in Kingsport to even come close to Cecily's charm. Several of the girls in his classes were quite pretty and nice, but there was no one like Cecily.

Carl, despite his penchant for still keeping bugs and other creatures in his pockets—there was quite an uproar in Mathematics class one day when a small mouse leapt out of Carl's jacket and scampered off across everyone's feet—was quite popular with girls and boys both. He could almost always be found in the center of a merry crowd between classes. Much of his free time was spent with a large group of chums. He always generously offered to include Shirley in the group, but that young man definitely preferred solitude. Thus far, he hadn't met anyone at college with whom he wished to become better acquainted.

Finishing classes for the day toward the end of his first term, Shirley left for the library—his favorite place to study. As he walked, his long strides quickly brought him alongside another Redmond student. Shirley had noticed him in some of his classes, but only because this young man seemed as reluctant as Shirley himself to speak or be the center of attention. As they drew level with each other, Shirley surprised himself by speaking.

"Hello."

The young man looked over at him and smiled. "Hello." He was fairly short—certainly well below six feet—and rather squarely built. But he had a very pleasant face, and when he smiled, it lit him up from inside and crinkled his blue eyes at their corners.

For a moment it looked as though they had said all they were going to, but them the other spoke again.

"I'm Patrick Samuels."

"Shirley Blythe."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise."

They walked in silence for a few more steps. Then Shirley said: "You're a sophomore at Redmond, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," replied Patrick. "You are too, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Going to the library?"

"Yes. You?"

"It's the only place I can study."

"Same here."

And with that, the two were friends.

Patrick's personality was very similar to Shirley's. He was very quiet, very reserved, but not shy or self-conscious on any way. His sense of humor tended to be more evident than Shirley's, and he was quite apt to break up any serious discussion with a quick quip, eyes twinkling merrily, that sent everybody into fits of laughter. He disliked pointless frivolity, though, and so tended to avoid most of the social gatherings at Redmond.

He had grown up out west, Shirley discovered, but had sold the family farm and come east to college after his parents had died. He had just completed his first year at Redmond when the war broke out. He joined the Royal Canadian Navy at once, and served with distinction, was wounded badly in the leg during the last days of fighting—Shirley had noticed the slight limp—and had to spend quite a few months healing in a military hospital, before being sent to a convalescent home to fully recover. Hence, he was only able to return to school now.

Despite the differences in backgrounds and ages—Patrick had twenty-nine years to Shirley's twenty-two—the two formed a firm friendship. They met in the library every day to study together and share anecdotes from their classes. Shirley was thankful to have found a friend. It made his separation from Cecily just a little easier to bear.

"Our last test!" exclaimed Shirley as he and Patrick emerged from the stuffy classroom. "To think this year is over and done with. It feels like it barely began."

"Maybe it does to you," said Patrick, grimacing. "To me it seems interminably long."

Shirley gave his friend a slow, evaluating glance. "You're not looking forward to the summer, are you?" he asked shrewdly.

Patrick shrugged moodily. "Oh, I'm glad enough, I suppose. But I don't have a family to return to, like you do. I'll have to stay here in Kingsport and work for my board over the summer and wait for classes to start up again. He flashed his wide smile suddenly, showing one of the quick mood changes to which he was subject. "It won't be so bad, I suppose. Maybe I'll meet some pretty girl and we'll hit it off." His lament over his single status was a standing joke between the two of them.

"Any girls you meet are likely to have buck teeth and adenoids," quipped Shirley. He added impulsively, "Why don't you come home with me for the summer?"

Patrick looked startled. "Really?"

Shirley nodded casually. "Sure. Mother and Dad won't mind. Everything will be chaos anyway, with Jem and Faith's wedding coming off in July. One more person will hardly be noticed—and I could use someone sane around the place to keep me company."

Patrick looked around with exaggerated motions. "Someone sane? Who would that be?" He grinned. "I'll take you up on the offer. Shirley, you're a brick."

Shirley grinned back. "Don't mention it. I'm doing this from completely selfish motives." Besides how much he would enjoy having a friend around, he was thinking about Cecily. There would be no time before the wedding, but after…He would casually take Patrick for a drive down to Avonlea—thank goodness the roads were improved so that autos could make the trip in less than three hours now (not counting the time spent patching tires, of course)!—and while there, they would go to Echo Lodge. Patrick could talk to Paul and Rachel and Miss Lavender while he, Shirley, took Cecily for a walk, and there he would tell her what was in his heart. It was perfect.