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diff --git a/43587-8.txt b/43587-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 67f094b..0000000 --- a/43587-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7478 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Princeton Stories, by Jesse Lynch Williams - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Princeton Stories - -Author: Jesse Lynch Williams - -Release Date: August 28, 2013 [EBook #43587] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCETON STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Note: - - Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have - been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal - signs=. - - - - - Princeton Stories - - By - Jesse Lynch Williams - - _FOURTH EDITION_ - - Charles Scribner's Sons - New York 1895 - - - - - _Copyright, 1895, by - Charles Scribner's Sons_ - - TROW DIRECTORY - PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY - NEW YORK - - - - -To '92 - - - - -TABLE OF CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - THE WINNING OF THE CANE, 1 - - THE MADNESS OF POLER STACY, 37 - - THE HAZING OF VALLIANT, 67 - - HERO WORSHIP, 89 - - THE RESPONSIBILITY OF LAWRENCE, 105 - - FIXING THAT FRESHMAN, 139 - - THE SCRUB QUARTER-BACK, 177 - - WHEN GIRLS COME TO PRINCETON, 193 - - THE LITTLE TUTOR, 209 - - COLLEGE MEN, 241 - - THE MAN THAT LED THE CLASS, 277 - - -_Acknowledgements are due Messrs. Harper & Brothers for permission -to republish "The Scrub Quarter-Back" and "When Girls Come to -Princeton."_ - - - - -THE WINNING OF THE CANE - - -The modern Cane Spree is held in broad daylight on University Field. -It is a vastly different affair from the Spree we used to watch with -chattering teeth at midnight, kneeling on the wet grass in front of -Witherspoon, with a full moon watching over West College and Mat. -Goldie and two assistants waiting by the lamp-post to join in the -fierce rush which followed each bout. - -Nowadays it is one of the regular events of the Annual Fall Handicap -Games, and is advertised in large special feature letters on the -posters hanging in the shop windows and on the bulletin elm. It is a -perfectly proper and legitimate proceeding, and is watched like any -other field event from the bleachers and Grand Stand, with girls there -to catch their breath and say "Oh!" The class that wins is glad. They -cheer awhile and then watch the final heat of the 2.20. - -In our day you could seldom see much of anything, and there was -nothing proper about it. But it was one of the things a fellow lived -for, like Thanksgiving games and Spring Term. To win a cane for one's -class was an honor of a lifetime, like playing on the 'Varsity, or -winning the Lynde debate. Men are still pointed out when back at -Commencement as the light or middle weight spreers of their class, and -a member of the faculty is famous for having "described a parabola -with his opponent." This trick and a book called "Basal Concepts in -Philosophy" bear his name, though it is maintained by some that he is -more proud of the book. - -This is to be a story of "How we used to do when we were in college." -It would not do to revive the ancient cane spree. Things have changed -since then. We are a university now. We mustn't behave like a college -any longer. Besides, it was bad for the football men and training -hours. But all the same, those old times were fun while they lasted. -Weren't they? - - * * * * * - -High up over Clio Hall hung a moon, which a night or two before had -been full. Over there, on the balconies of Witherspoon, blue and red -and green lights were flaring. On the grass-plot in front was a huge -black circle. This was made up of the College of New Jersey. - -Their hats were off, and the red and the green and the blue mingled -with the moonlight and glared upon the bare heads and the white of -the faces with an effect as ghastly as it sounds. - -The elms over toward Reunion and West cast long ugly-looking shadows. -Beyond these everything seemed far away and dark and silent. Yet only -a few hours before this same spot had served the innocent purpose of -batting up flies and kicking footballs for points, with fellows -shouting in loud, careless voices, "Aw! Come off! That was over the -line!" - -The circle was not yet perfectly formed. The crowd shivered and -fidgeted, and borrowed lights of one another. Those behind called -"Down in front!" And everyone wished it would begin. Some fellows kept -edging in and were shoved back again by those appointed for that -purpose. A few were moving about inside the circle displaying rolls of -bills with which they made bets, and a great impression on -under-classmen of a certain sort. The night was to be clear and -frosty, and the strain on the nerves tremendous. So all those who -believed in artificial warmth had it in their pockets, and some who -did not. - -For a month it had been, next to football, the most discussed topic at -dinner-tables. Almost as soon as the rush was over--the annual cannon -rush of the second night of the term without which the freshmen would -not have considered themselves a class, while the underclassmen were -still occupied in hazing and being hazed, and putting up and pulling -down each other's proclamations throughout the state, and painting and -repainting water-towers, and losing sleep in other good causes; in -short, early in the term the candidates for the spreeing positions -went into training, and they had been spreeing vigorously every night -since--the freshmen back of the chapel and the sophs on the South -Campus, about where Brown Hall now stands. - -All sorts of rumors and counter-rumors had floated about the campus. -The sophomores were frightened about a hinted-at dark horse of the -freshmen, only they did not show it; and the freshmen were scared to -death at the confident air of the well-known champion of the -sophomores, and tried not to show it. And each was awed at the -mysterious air of the other, and both had betted more than they had -any business to on the result, and were now lined up in front of -Witherspoon. All were as excited as they cared to be, and they had -been cheering for themselves since nine o'clock. The cheers echoed in -the frosty air from dark West and bright Witherspoon, and from far -away first Church. - -The sophomores were closely massed in the segment of the circle on the -higher ground toward Reunion. Their cheering sounded blatant, and to -the freshmen sickeningly confident. And the freshmen--they were -opposite, with their sweet scared faces still more closely huddled -together. Each freshman had his little cap safely tucked away in his -innermost pocket, and none of them was saying a word, except when he -opened his mouth to cheer with all his heart for his dear class. It -was all new to them. They only waited and waited with the same aching -suspense that you had on Thanksgiving-day, when you saw the referee -toss the coin and one team take the ball while the other crouched, and -then waited and waited, and you felt certain that something awful was -the matter, but you did not know what. - -Presently, though no official sign was given, every one felt that the -important moment was at hand. The cheering sounded as if -reinforcements had arrived. A compact circle was now formed by -composite consent. Those in the front row sat down on the grass and -caught cold. The next row kneeled. Those behind leaned on them, and so -on back to those who stood on tip-toe and craned their necks for an -occasional glimpse. Outside the circle, over by the Witherspoon -lamp-post, leaned Proctor Matthew Goldie, Esquire, in a careless -attitude. - -Everyone's heart jumped up a little when a voice cried, "Here they -come!" as though it were he who had to spree. - -Led by their coachers, the two light weights scudded out mysteriously -from different wings of Witherspoon with overcoats wrapped about them. -As they crossed the light, the crowd, which had hushed for a moment, -broke out in wild prolonged cheering; the two upper classes, who were -not immediately interested, joined in. So did the sporting gentlemen -of the town, and even the little muckers cheered shrilly for their -favorite class. - -A path was forced through the crowd, and the two nimble light weights -began peeling their sweaters. The sophomore was dressed in black, the -freshman in pure white. They resined their hands. Everyone felt -things. - -The referee held out the stout piece of hickory called cane by -courtesy. He put the freshman's hands outside. The cheering ceased. -Mat. Goldie stretched and changed his position. - -There was a hurting stillness as they stood there with their feet -braced, frozen in the ghastly glare, the one in white and the one in -black, while the referee said, in earnest tones, "Are you ready, -freshman?" - -You could see his chest filling up from the bottom as he answered, -"Um." - -"Are you ready, sophomore?" - -"Yes." - -"Spree!" - -One of them dropped as if shot, the other followed him down, both -turned over, each began struggling and straining; the coachers began -coaching, the referee dropped down on his knees to see fair play, and -then someone in the rear said, "Down in front!" in healthy, human -tones, and you came to yourself and remembered that this was only a -struggle for class honor, after all, and that whichever way it came -out it was not going to kill you. Then you breathed. - -Meanwhile, locked up in a room in East Middle Witherspoon, wrapped in -sweaters and blankets, were five other freshmen, and to them the -strain was worst of all. These were the other freshmen spreers, the -light weight, the middle weight, and the three substitutes. They could -only wait and listen and try to guess from the sound of the cheers -which side had the advantage. It was too far off to distinguish -anything but a ring with something undefined inside. The juniors said -they must not go out on the balcony or get excited. This was easy to -say. - -While the crowd was in the room and fellows were clattering up and -down the stairs and everyone was talking and the crowd outside was -making a noise, it was not so bad. But now it was so silent they could -almost hear the two contestants straining and wrenching below. Now and -then the shrill, earnest voice of a coacher would cut through the -silence. "Now! Now!" with an echo from the Presbyterian Church. "Right -over with him. Remember what I told you." Once the middle weight arose -from the divan; then he sat down again. A little later one of the subs -whistled two bars of a tune and stopped as if he had forgotten -something. Once in a while someone glanced at one of the others and -then looked away again. They did not say much. - -The only one who did not seem to mind it was Hill, the substitute -heavy weight, and that was only because he had not sense enough. He -was a big, thick-headed, sleepy-looking farmer, and the only reason he -was up here with these nimble athletes was that he was such a -tremendous buck and so stupid that when once he put his big hands on -the stick he would not let go. But he would be used only in case the -regular heavy weight died or had a fit or something before time was -called, and that was improbable. - -But Hill was enjoying everything. He thought the colored lights were -"pretty," and he considered it good fun, loafing in this large, -luxurious room. He glanced approvingly at the water-colors and -examined the photographs and knocked down a few of them, and looked -over the mugs and the foils and the antlers and the usual dust -collectors of a well-furnished room. Then, because he approved of what -he saw, he grinned. - -He had grinned at the staring crowd when, half an hour before, it had -stood to one side for him and the other spreers to pass by on the way -back from weighing at the gymnasium. He thought lots of things were -funny. He grinned broadly when, before the spree began, an excitable -junior approached him in the corner where he was sitting alone and -said, in jerky, tremulous tones, "Say, which do you think will win?" -This was before the crowd was put out. That was the funniest thing of -all--the way Cunningham put the crowd out. "Dash it! I wish to dash -you fellows would dash quickly get to dash out of here. This is my -room and, dash it all, I loaned it to the dash freshmen spreers and -not to the whole dash college, dash it!" That was so funny that Hill -let loose his huge laugh and filled up the room with it. This caused -the other freshmen to look at one another and smile pityingly. But -Hill did not notice it. - -The other freshmen had little in common with Hill. It was not so much -because he was uncouth as that he had no class spirit. He had entered -college two days late, and those two days are like two years in some -respects. He had missed the class meeting, where freshmen get a first -sight of one another which lasts always, and he had missed the class -rush about the cannon, where freshmen are so closely pressed together -that they never after get quite apart. But the farmer should have -wakened up by this time. Lack of class spirit is never pardonable. -This is the way Hill happened to be here this evening. - -One day early in the term, as he was pushing his big chest across the -campus to recitation, he heard someone call: "Hold up, there, you big -freshman!" So he smiled and took off his ugly derby hat. - -"No, I'm not a sophomore; I'm a junior," said the stranger, who then -explained that he wanted to talk to him. "You come to my room at one -o'clock, and don't forget about it," said the junior. "Run along, now; -the bell is stopping." - -Hill came, and found several other freshmen there. "Take hold of this -stick," said the junior. - -He put his big fists about it and found himself flying across the -room. He landed against the door and beside him lay a table, which -never arose. - -"Now, that is cane-spreeing," said the junior casually, as one would -say, "Down there is the new Art building," "and I want all you fellows -to meet me at eight o'clock back of chapel." - -That night they gave Hill a cane and said, "Take hold of this and -don't let go." He held it for an hour against every one except the -junior that was sophomore heavy weight the previous year. But he had -never yet been quick enough to take it away from anyone, even the -light weights. And that was the reason he was a substitute waiting in -Montie Cunningham's room wrapped in two sweaters and a blanket. His -eyes were closed and he was thinking about what a bully time his -younger brother Ike must be having among the chestnuts this month. - -The big leather chair was soft and he might have fallen asleep had not -at that moment a tremendous yell burst into existence down below--a -loud, shrill, fiendish yell which lasted nearly a minute before it -was shaken down to an organized cheer. Hill stretched. - -The others were out on the balcony. "Tell us which has it! For -heaven's sake, tell us!" they cried to every one below; and no one -below answered. So all they could do was to bite their lips and wait -until the yelling became cheering, and then they knew from the -exultant tones of the sophomores what they did not want to know. - -Just then they caught a glimpse of the victor waving the cane in his -hand as he was borne high on the shoulders of his class-mates to West -Witherspoon. - -Then they had a confused view of the rush. The upper classes fell to -one side and the other two fell upon one another. This was the -fiercest sort of rushing known to the proctors. The two sides were -not, as in the cannon rush, evenly lined up four abreast. Not a bit of -it. There were two thickly massed bodies of men, one running up a -grade, the other charging down, and the roll of their footsteps was as -the sound of much cattle, running. For a moment each tried to keep in -solid form. But only long enough for some one to be knocked down and -run over by the rest. After the first crash it was mixed fighting. In -the moonlight one could not invariably distinguish friend from foe. -So each man doubled up both fists and let drive at everyone he saw. It -was glorious. - -As soon as they became hopelessly mixed and each class had cheered -itself hoarse and the proctors had carried off an armful of sophomores -to appear before the Discipline Committee the next day, and to be -cheered off at the depot by lamenting classmates later on, everyone -turned up his coat-collar and helped form the ring again. - -Those on the balcony, who had been panting and chafing like tied -deer-hounds, now heard the feet of them bearing bad tidings and the -defeated freshman up the entry stairs. The door was kicked open and -three winded juniors laid their burden gently on the bed, which had -been dragged in from the other room for this purpose. With them many -others pushed in who did not belong there, and the room was full of -people once more. Many voices were explaining how it all happened. - -Ramsay, the little freshman, was completely done. He had fainted as -they brought him upstairs. His face was set and white, and he lay -there with his tough little resiny hands hanging limp at his side -while his classmates poured brandy down his throat and told each other -what to do. Through the window came a sharp freshman cheer with "Runt -Ramsay" on the end. - -Meanwhile the middle weight had stripped to the waist. He was bending -forward with his forearms upon the mantel-piece and his forehead -resting on them, as one bows during prayers in chapel. Two men were -vigorously rubbing his long strong back with whiskey. The coach was -standing beside him, giving final admonitions in a quick, tense -manner. "Now, if he does this, you do this. See? He can't get you on -that shoulder-throw of his. And if he tries this trick you know how to -meet it. Why, you can do him dead easy. I won from him last year, and -you can take it away from me," and so on. As they started from the -room, he added, "Now remember your whole class is watching you -and----" But the door closed and they hurried down the stairs, and in -a moment the wild cheering announced their entrance in the ring. Hill -was sorry, because he thought it right funny. - -He went out on the balcony and looked down on the crowd. The noise and -the moonlight and the specks of cigarlight had a grotesque effect. He -had never seen anything like it before. - -"Oh, cork up that laugh, Farmer Hill," said Bushforth, the heavy -weight, who was also centre of the freshman team and had a right to -patronize. "It's bad enough as it is, without that bark of yours." - -Hill stopped laughing. He grinned instead. His feelings were not hurt. -He had none. - -Again the cheering was hushed. It was so still that those on the -balcony might have heard the hard breathing or the whimpering of the -freshman on the bed. The farmer heard it and went inside. - -The liquor and exercise had made Ramsay warm. He had thrown off the -blankets and lay half naked with his hands clasped across his eyes. -Drops of sweat were running off his palpitating chest. Hill looked at -his prettily developed arms and at the slender, well-turned wrist and -at the tough little hands, which, Hill decided, had never done much -farm work. Then because he liked what he saw, he laughed. - -The light weight uncovered one eye and then covered it again. - -"There, there," said the farmer, patting the black curly hair, which -looked "pretty" against the white pillow. "I wouldn't take on so, -little one, we'll get some of those canes yet." - -Brandy and defeat had made Ramsay cross. He said: "Oh, go to the -devil, won't you please?" - -"All right," replied the big fellow. "Only you'll catch cold that way. -Let me fix them." He carefully tucked the blankets around his -classmate, who said, "That's so. Much obliged." Hill smiled at his -uncomfortable tone. - -When, after seven hard-fought rounds, Murray, the middle weight, was -brought up breathless and caneless, there was great discouragement in -the freshman camp. The middle weight was the one above all others upon -whom they had relied to defend the honor of the class. Murray, the -long-winded, himself had felt confident of winning; and probably he -would have by sheer endurance had not the sophomore taken him unawares -by a very easy finger trick as they lay together on the ground -resting. - -But it was all over now, and the middle weight was stretched out on -the bed beside Ramsay. He had not, however, fainted, and he was -sullenly chewing a piece of gum he had had in his mouth during the -struggle. He looked unconcerned. He made no excuses to those who told -what a nervy fight he had made. - -All the week previous the betting on the heavy weight had been two to -one on the sophomore. But now three seniors from the enemy's camp -swaggered into the room shouting, "Here's four to one on Parker. Who -wants it? Why don't you back your man?" They smiled at the junior -coachers. "Drake don't want any of it," said another, in a dry tone; -"he knows Parker too well." - -Drake was the man who met Parker, unsuccessfully, the year before. -"Wait a moment," he said. His sporting blood was stirred. "I'll take -all you have, at four to one. Charlie, will you hold it, please?" - -All of this must have been soothing to the nerves of the freshman -heavy weight who was taking off his clothes for a final rub and trying -not to hear the class cheers outside. - -"Now then," said Montie Cunningham, slamming the door as the seniors -hurried down the stairs, "this thing's got to stop right _here_." He -brought a baseball bat down on the table so hard that every one -stopped talking and looked up. "You've simply got to win that cane. If -those dash sophomores win all three they'll crow over you for the rest -of their course. They are arrogant enough already, dash them. And you -fellows will be disgraced forever, and your class will be handed down -in history as no good. People will refer to you as a class who lost -all three canes. This is a crisis in your history. You made a good -showing in the rush, but you were badly defeated in the baseball -series. This is the third test. This decides it. Win this cane and you -are all right. One out of three is a defeat, but not a disgrace, -because you are only freshmen. But _none_ out of three _is_. _You've -got to win this cane!_" - -No one uttered a sound for a moment. Farmer Hill did not laugh. - -"Come here, Bushforth," said Drake, in a low, solemn voice; "I'll rub -you myself." - -The heavy weight was beautifully built and exceedingly quick for his -size. He came to college with a good prep-school record of centre -rush. But there was something disappointing about him, and you felt it -every time you saw him move. You know the kind. One of those fellows -who are splendid to look at in a football suit, and who will always -put up a fair game on the scrub, but who are never going to make the -'Varsity. - -Just now he was biting his lip and looking down at his own good legs. -When he raised his glance he found Hill standing with arms akimbo, -gazing at him with an earnest expression. - -Bushforth smiled good-humoredly to show how cool he was. - -"Think you can take that cane?" Hill asked with a grin. - -"I really don't know, Hill," answered the beautifully built man. - -"Do you think you can take it?" repeated the other. - -"Well, Hill, Parker will have to work for it," said the heavy weight, -indulgently. "Why? Would you like to take my place? I'd be glad to -resign in your favor." - -"All right," said Hill, simply. He began pulling up his sweater. - -"Go on and sit down and stop your nonsense." It was hard to stand -horse-play at such a moment, when your whole class was cheering for -you outside. - -"I ain't fooling," said the big farmer, with his arms still in the -sweater, his head and body out. - -"Hurry, Bush," said one of the juniors at the window. "The sophs have -yelled across at me that they are ready." - -"All right," said Bushforth, lacing his Jersey as he started for the -door. He forgot to answer the other freshman. - -"Wait a minute," said the big, cheerful voice of the farmer, "I think -I'll go down this time." - -"Oh, cork up, you big cow!" said Drake. - -Hill corked up and then pushed Bushforth out of the way and started -for the door. - -"Will you please go back where you belong and sit down?" said Drake, -impressively. - -It failed to impress Hill. "Well, you see, it's this way," he began -pleasantly, "he can't take that cane, I'm afraid. I can, though. I've -got my blood up." He began contracting his biceps playfully. "Isn't it -time to----" - -"Freshman," interrupted Drake, with irony, "we have chosen the heavy -weight representative of your class, and we are of the opinion that we -know about as much of this business as you do. I never heard of such -foolishness. Go sit down, and shut your big face. Your services will -not be required unless Billy is laid off before he reaches the foot of -the entry stairs. Come on, Billy." - -"Then," Hill answered, smilingly, "I'll have to lay him off." He -suddenly grabbed his big classmate by the shoulders, jerked him back -into his arms, grasped him like a bag of flour, and hoisted him on his -shoulders as if he had been one. "Now you lie down there, and be a -good boy." He dropped Bushforth, but not roughly, in the corner -behind the door, and then looked beamingly about at the others as -though he had performed quite a feat. And so he had. Bushforth weighed -one hundred and eighty-nine, stripped. - -Outside the crowd was yelling concertedly in quick, jerky notes, -"Shake it up! Shake it up! Shake it up!" and the sophomores were -singing "Where, oh, where are the verdant freshmen?" etc., "Lost now -in the green, green soup." But upstairs everyone was so tense and so -excited that nothing was heard but the angry words of the coachers -addressed to Hill, who was grinning. - -Bushforth arose from the floor slowly. - -"Shake it up, Billy," cried Drake, exasperated; "do you want to lose -your cane by default?" - -"Say," replied Bushforth, soberly, "do you suppose there's anything -the matter with this hand?--Ugh! Great Scott! don't squeeze it." - -Hill had not thrown him violently, but Bushforth, in throwing out his -arms to stop himself, had struck his left hand against the wooden -door-guard a few inches above the floor behind the door, and all his -weight was upon it. The junior coach shut his eyes, dropped into -Hill's big chair, and let his arms fall down to his sides. Everyone -looked at him. "That settles it," he gasped. "Billy's hand is -sprained. Let's give up the cane by default and----" - -"Is it sprained?" interrupted Hill, removing his smile suddenly. "I'm -sorry I hurt his hand. I did not intend that--Mr. Bushforth, I beg -your pardon. I just wanted to show these fellows how strong I was. I -didn't think I had a fair trial at spreeing. And now, Drake, don't you -think we had better go down? They are clamoring down there. Are you -coming?" - -His tones were very deliberate and his manner so calm in contrast to -the boiling condition of the others, that everyone seemed stunned for -a moment. They only looked at one another. - -"Shake it up! Shake it up! Shake it up!" came from the crowd below, -and just then two representatives from the sophomores came running up -the stairs, shouting, "Say, if you fellows don't wish to lose this by -default come right now. Everyone's tired of waiting." - -"Don't get excited," Drake shouted back. "Bushforth met with an -accident and the sub is going to take his place. Come on, Hill." It -was the only thing to do. - -Hill saw the eyes of the two seniors brighten at the news, and heard -his own classmates in the room cursing him. He said to himself, "Now -then, I guess I've got to do something this evening," and followed -Drake down the stairs. - -"You're stronger than he is. He's all bluff. You'll do him dead -easily," the two coachers were saying as heartily as they could. Hill -did not reply. They crossed the light from the entry door. A strong -cheer went up for Bushforth. Hill laughed. The coachers shivered. - -Before they had pushed their way through the crowd to the ring, word -went around that at the last moment Bushforth was laid off, and that a -big sub named Hill had taken his place. Few had ever heard the name. -The freshmen groaned; Hill heard it. - -As they emerged into the ring, he heard a strange voice saying, "Why, -he's that great big awkward chap the sophs guy so much, don't you -remember?" Again Hill laughed. - -"That's all right," whispered one of the juniors as he helped him off -with his sweater. "You go in and win this cane, and your class will -give you anything you want. Keep cool now, and remember what you have -learned." - -The farmer's big deformity-like shoulders looked more huge than ever -in the thin, white jersey as he now straightened up in the moonlight. - -"'Ray! 'Ray! 'Ray! Tiger, Siss, Boom, Ah! Hill." It rang out sharply -on the frosty air. Then came a long cheer and then more short ones, -with "Hill" on the end of them. - -There is a peculiar thrill at the sound of one's own name shouted by a -hundred voices on the end of a cheer. Hill felt it. He liked the -feeling. "Now that means me," he said to himself, and he recalled what -Drake had said to the middle weight: "Now remember, your whole class -is watching you." It was in that moment that Hill caught class spirit. - -The heavy weight spree was usually the shortest and most exciting -contest of the evening. Everyone eagerly pressed forward on the wet -grass. - -The sophomores were barking and guying and quacking exultingly. The -freshmen were cheering hard. - -"Get ready, boys," said Jim, the athletic trainer, acting as referee. -He held out the stick. - -The sophomore ran out briskly. Hill spat on his hands and took his -time about it. They grasped the cane. "Down in front, _please_!" a -voice pleaded. The cheering had ceased as suddenly as you turn off the -gas. - -Hill was cool. He looked about at the theatre of faces on all sides. -Just over the sophomore's shoulder, down on the ground with moonlight -on his face, he spied an important-looking senior, with glasses, who -on the campus had always seemed oblivious to the existence of -freshmen. He was rocking back and forth and chewing a cold cigar to -bits. - -"Are you ready, Hill?" - -The freshman spread his legs apart and said, "Yep." - -"Ready, Parker?" - -"Yes." - -A ghastly silent second. "Spree!" - -As the referee spoke the word, Hill felt the sophomore drop. He knew -what was coming. Over his opponent's head he went sprawling on the -grass, as he expected. But just then, in some manner, quick as a -flash, Parker doubled and threw both legs in between Hill's body and -the cane, and began, with all his strength, to strain, and push, and -wrench. - -Hill had expected something, and thought he was guarding against it. -But this was a new trick--a variation on the old one--which the -sophomore had invented himself. - -Now, if it had been an ordinary man, with ordinary Christian -shoulders, the strain would have been too great, and the sophomore -would have won the cane in ten seconds, as he counted on doing. - -But you see Hill was somewhat deformed as to his shoulders. He grunted -and clung on, and the sophomore's coachers were yelling fiendishly: -"You've got him, Park! you've got him!" - -The next instant, while the sophomore was trying to better his -advantage, Hill quietly turned, slipped out of the perilous position, -and drew himself up close to the sophomore's body. He lay there -panting, while his coachers cried, joyfully: "Good one, Hill! good -one!" and his classmates left off feeling sick at their stomachs, and -began to cheer him by name. This he did not hear. - -He had been taken by surprise at the fall, but now he was entirely -alive to what he was about. Every nerve was at tension, each muscle -set at hair-trigger. There was just one thing in all the world to him -now, and that was the cane. And when, a moment later, Parker began a -quick series of furious jerks, back and forth and sidewise, Hill said, -half aloud: "No, you don't, old man," and smiled confidently to -himself as he felt how firm the cane was in his hand. - -The sophomore, on top, now tried working Hill's hands off with his -fingers. But the freshman had lived on a farm all his life. Then he -tried something with his legs. But Hill's big supports were as hard as -the columns of Whig Hall, though not as symmetrical. Then, waiting -awhile, he tried to surprise Hill with more quick, sharp wrenches. It -was unsuccessful. He waited, and tried it again. Then time was called. -The two class-cheers burst forth simultaneously. - -The contestants were dragged to their respective corners, wrapped with -blankets, and sponged with water. - -During the interval, a buzz of voices began suddenly, as in a racing -grand-stand after the winner has been announced. The college had -expected an easy thing for Parker, the champion, and when they heard -of Bushforth's absence, they were sure of it. Everyone was saying: -"Who is this Hill? Hasn't he shoulders! Wasn't that a narrow hole he -crawled out of?" - -The coachers were whispering, "You're doing well, Hill. Stick to him, -and you'll get him yet. You'll tire him out." - -Two or three freshmen came into the ring and shook Hill's hand, -saying, nervously, "Good boy, Hill, good one." He was already a -distinguished man, having held the cane for a round against Parker. -But Hill only grinned and had his own opinion. The honor of the class -depended upon him. He thought he was going to win the cane. - -When the referee called them up, one of the sophomore's coaches called -out, in an easy tone, "Remember, now," and Parker replied, in a cool -way, "Very well." The silence was worse than ever. People felt that -this would be the last round. - -The two spreers were the coolest on the campus. But they also felt -that this would settle it, and as they grasped the cane each looked -the other over and then gazed straight into his enemy's eye. Very -much, no doubt, as knights of old used to size each other up before -they fell to cutting each other to bits, of a quiet afternoon by the -sea-side. - -Hill did not like Parker, nor would he have fancied him even if the -sophomore had not been a brutal and unreasonable hazer. However, he -appreciated his athletic abilities, and even in the tense moment of -waiting for the referee's word, he could not help admiring the way his -opponent's neck fitted his body, and the clean cut of his limbs, which -Hill himself so lacked. - -The sophomore looked him back in the eyes, and said, sneeringly, "You -damned freshman!" which was entirely uncalled for. - -When the word was given both kept their feet for a few minutes. They -held their arms down stiff, keeping the cane close to their bodies in -order to prevent the other from jumping in between. Neither seemed -inclined to begin the attack, and they danced cautiously about the -circle with their faces close together. There was something impressive -in the sight of these two, pounding about in the moonlight. They were -so ponderous, and it all seemed to mean so much. Parker tried the -right hip throw. - -He was partially successful. They were both on the ground now, and the -timer snapped his stop watch. Time is not counted when the men are -erect. - -The sophomore was on top again. Again he tried his jerking -manoeuvres, and again Hill smiled to himself and thought, "I guess -not." - -He lay perfectly still on the wet grass, as if comfortable and quite -content to remain there. He heard a voice from the crowd say, "Spread -out, you coachers. Give us a show." He could feel the sophomore's -breath on his neck and the beating of the heart against his back. He -felt the cool wet grass on his cheek flattened against it, and he -became aware that his nose was bleeding, and then said to himself, -"Oh, yes; I must have bumped that on Parker's elbow when we came -down." - -Now, up to this point, the freshman had been on the defensive -entirely, and he had been so successful that one of the coachers began -giving the signals to begin a little offensive work. "No, no, Hammie," -cried Drake. "Let good enough alone." - -Hill had regained his wind by this time. "Please don't bother me," he -said, in a muffled tone. "I'm doing this thing. I'll get this cane in -a minute." This was loud enough for some of those in the crowd to -hear. Somehow it sounded horrible. - -And it seemed to enrage Parker. He began a furious onslaught, as if he -were tired of playing with a freshman so long and meant to end the -thing right there. - -He wrenched and jerked this way, he tugged and pulled that way, he -turned over and then back, he tried all the manoeuvres he knew, and -took desperate chances, which the freshman was too slow to take -advantage of. Twice the sophomore seemed to have the cane, and the -freshman still held on. It was a battle of giants, and those that were -there will never forget it. - -And while they struggled, now one on top and now the other, they -rolled over to the extreme lower part of the circle toward the path -leading to the railway station. That part of the audience fell back. -The ring broke. Some closed in around them. - -Then, while the referee was shouting, "Get back! Get back!" the -freshman was suddenly seen to rise on his knees yelling shrilly, like -a wild beast in pain. "You would bite me, would you, you----." He -sprang to his feet. The blood from his nose was smeared all over his -face. A furious wrench jerked Parker from the ground. With what was -extraordinary power Hill whirled him; part of the way the feet -dragged, though some like to tell that the whole of Parker was clean -in the air all the way round; he whirled him about, as you would whirl -a pillow with both arms; then, suddenly reversing all his big weight -and simultaneously twisting the hickory, he snapped the sophomore off -in the air and lifted the cane high and dry above his head. "The -freshman has it," shrieked a shrill voice. - -He felt himself grabbed, he heard many noises, he went up, up in the -air, and then he forgot. - - * * * * * - -The big leather chair was the first thing he saw, and he knew he was -in the Witherspoon room again. Then he heard many voices talking at -once. He remembered now that he had been hearing them for ages. They -echoed inside his head some place. - -"Are you all right now?" - -He raised his lids a little higher and there was Drake bending over -him as tenderly as a mother. - -"I think you ought to know, you great big awkward old farmer, that you -saved the day for us." Drake looked as delighted as if he had done it -himself. - -"I've seen a good many sprees," said another voice near his head, -which Hill had never heard before, "but that was the finest thing I -ever saw; and I'm blame glad you did him, though I _am_ a senior and -lost twenty-five bats on it." Hill moved his head and saw the -important-looking senior with glasses. - -The farmer now laughed his hideous laugh. That showed he was all -right. - -One of the sophomore coachers approached the bed, and after looking up -and down Hill's bulk a moment, said: "The trouble with you, you big -freshman, is that you don't know when you're beaten. My man had that -cane twice, but you wouldn't let go." - -"Well, that's Princeton spirit, isn't it?" remarked the 'Varsity -Captain, who had something to say to Hill later on. - -Ramsay, the light weight, came running up the entry three steps at a -time. He had been leading cheers for Hill out-doors and now he began -hugging him. "Oh, farmer, you're a dandy. Give me your hand." - -But when the farmer raised his hand he found the cane was still in it. -"Here, little one, you can have this. I've had my fun out of it." This -showed how green he was. - -"No," said Ramsay; "you're to keep that forever. What did you win it -for, anyway?" - -As a matter of fact winning the spree meant much more to the big -placid farmer than a hickory cane to hang with ribbons over his -mantelpiece, and more than a bit of fame in another kind of athletics, -too. Much more. As we all know now. - - - - -THE MADNESS OF POLER STACY - - -In freshman year they say, "Are you ready to feed your face?" instead -of "Are you going to dinner?" and at the eating clubs they call the -milk-pitcher the "cow," and shout "Butter me, please," when they wish -the butter handed to them. All their desires and opinions they express -in variously bold and vulgar metaphors, which are witty. This is -because there is no one to tell them they must not. The boy is a -college man now. He is free from the restraint of home or school or -both, and he doesn't know quite what to do with his liberty. - -Like a young town horse turned loose for the first time in the open -green of the country, he sometimes loses his head and frisks and -snorts and kicks up his heels to an unbecoming degree. This is a way -of saying that every once in a while some little boy (the strictly -reared kind, usually), in his eagerness to show his fellows how -reckless and devilish he is, goes so far that he never comes quite -back. Others dissipate merely to the extent of cutting chapel twice -in succession or pretending that they have not poled all night for an -examination. In still others it breaks out in a different form, and -they persuade themselves that they are naughty cynics or bold, bad -agnostics. But that will do for that. - -The point is this: Sooner or later, in some form or another, this -spirit is bound to get hold of every young man who is worthy of the -name, and, like measles or calf-love, it is better to have it sooner. -In the very young it is interesting. After that it is not. And the -older one is when it comes, the more he reminds the onlookers of the -frolicksome antics of some ancient, misguided cow, or of a kittenish -summer girl, aged twenty-eight. When seen in a poler it is pathetic. - - * * * * * - -At his first eating club in freshman year, H. Stacy felt himself -snubbed from the start; and when the crowd, which was not slow, became -well enough acquainted with one another and with the glorious freedom -of college life to pour syrup down their neighbors' backs and to hurl -fried eggs and coarse jokes about the table, little Stacy, although he -always said, "That was a pretty good shot," and wiped the potato from -his ear with a noisy laugh, saw that he was not in his own element, -which he should have seen a month before, and got out. - -He joined a club of a very different sort of freshmen, who were too -busy speculating upon their chances at the approaching Divisional -Examinations to invent names for tough beefsteak, or learn what was -going on in Trenton at the theatres and other places. - -This was his element. He drew in long, full breaths of freedom and -sunshine, and told himself that now he knew what was meant by the Joy -of College Life. - -Here he settled down to the methodical poler habits he was intended -for, and when the next catalogue was issued his mother and sister -pointed out to the minister's wife the name of "Horatio B. Stacy, New -Jersey," in the small group of names called "First Group," and said, -"We knew he would do it." In his sophomore year he did it again and -won a prize or two besides and became a minor light in the Cliosophic -Society, and by this time he held in that Hall an office, the name of -which was a secret, and could not be divulged even to his sister -Fannie. He studied for high marks and was called a "greasy poler." But -he got the high marks. - -You must not think he had no friends. He made some firm ones. About -these he could write home to his sister Fannie, telling what -magnificent characters some of them were. Often of a Saturday night, -if he had no essays to write or debates to prepare, he slipped off his -eye-shades and pattered across the campus to his friends' rooms and -knocked gently and said, "How do?" and conversed for an hour on the -difficulty of taking notes when your neighbor is borrowing your knife, -or about the elective courses for the next term. And down at the club -they had great horse calling each other "Blamed Neo-Platonists" and -"Doggoned Transcendentalists." Nor was it all shop. One of them -thought himself in love. It was Stacy that used to wink at the others -and bob his head and say, "I know some one who got a letter to-day." -They had great fun at the club. - -By reason of his freshman year's disgust he remained innocent, which -was right, and ignorant, which was wrong, of much that he might have -experienced, and he bade fair to graduate a typical poler with a bad -breath and an eye on Commencement stage and special honors. Sometimes, -to be sure, dark questions arose in his mind, strange, shameful -yearnings that caused him to read whole pages without taking in a word -of it. But then, all polers have wild moments when they feel that they -would rather play on the team than win the Stinnecke Scholarship, so -Stacy should not have been distressed. - -But sometimes it seemed to him that even those classmates whom he knew -only slightly and did not understand at all, those fellows who seemed -to do nothing but loaf about the campus all day and sing and shout at -night, while he was running his hands through his hair and his eyes -through Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason," they, it seemed to him, were -getting a poetry out of college life that he was missing. "But never -mind," he would say to himself. "They will regret it some day. They -will wish they had done as I am doing, instead of wasting golden -opportunities which come but once and which glide by like ships upon -the sea of life." Then he would pull his hair and start at the top of -the page again. It is better to have First Group than the Glee Club. - -But there were some fellows who could do both. Some fellows stood high -in the class and were in with everybody besides. Why could not he be -like that? This question came to him quite suddenly in junior year, -and he tipped his head to one side and began to think about it. He -kept on thinking. - -He was still thinking about it one Sunday afternoon in chapel when big -Jack Stehman, the tackle, came stalking down the aisles and threw -himself down beside Stacy, and the oak creaked. He was fresh and clean -and rosy from a long 'cross country tramp, and he said, "Hello, -Stace," in a hearty whisper. It was not from policy like the smiling -hello of a man a few pews in front, but because he felt like it. Stacy -enjoyed being saluted in that way, and if the big fellow grabbed and -pinched his thin leg he would beam for the rest of the hour, even -though he found a blue spot there at night when he undressed in -Edwards Hall. - -It was because of his way of saying hello, as much as his great -football record, that Stehman was one of the most popular men in -college, and nobody worshipped him more than did Stacy, not even the -freshman who gazed across the pews and wondered what it would be like -to be on familiar terms with a man of that sort. Stacy had at one time -feared that there was something sinful in his own admiration; Stehman -was a fourth-group man. - -He was thinking that his big class-mate looked just as strong and -clean and good as during the season. Just then Timberly, in the pew -behind, lay hold of Stehman's hair, drew his head back against the -rail, and then rubbed his own vigorously against Stehman's. "Little -Jackie's had his long locks cut, hasn't he?" he said. His teeth were -gritted and there was a sweet caress in his Southern voice, for he -loved his good pal Jack Stehman, though he would have called you -profane things if you had accused him of it. Stehman smiled, and said, -"Let go, Timber, you ass, the organ has stopped." - -Little Stacy, watching this out of the corner of his glasses, said, -solemnly, "I'd give my first group for that," and then bowed his head -in prayer. He thought about it all through the service instead of -listening as he should have done to a returned missionary who told how -many widows there were in India under thirteen years of age, and other -interesting things. - -The next day, when he walked with Stehman from a lecture by the Dean -on Robert Southey, he tried to catch his friend's tone of hello. Jack -said it to about fifty men between Dickinson Hall and Reunion, and it -sounded as though he were glad to see everyone of them, and he was. -Stacy liked to be seen with the big fellow. But he did not blush and -keep silent as in sophomore year when he was first permitted to walk -with him. He tried to show everyone that he was used to it. - -This time something happened. When they reached the place where the -stone walks meet, in front of South Reunion, Stehman put a big hand -on his shoulder, and said, "Stace, will you dine with me this -evening?--Oh, yes, you can. I have an engagement in Dougal's room now. -I'll yell for you on the way to the club. So long." Stacy opened his -mouth and gazed after him until out of sight. Then he shut it and -started for his room. This was unexpected. - -He had often thought about these large swell clubs with their elective -membership, and he had walked by the houses when the members were -lounging out in front. He had heard snatches of songs and the click of -billiard-balls from within, and he wondered what they did and said and -how it looked inside. And now he was going to see one of them, the one -he admired the most of all. - -At his own little eating club, he and the others said that many of the -club men were snobs, and declared that they would have nothing to do -with them. He wondered if his friends envied them in secret, as he -did. At any rate he would not dread answering them the next morning -when they asked, "Where were you for dinner?" - -When he reached his room he changed his necktie for a more becoming -one. At least he thought it was. And he put on his new, heavy, tan -shoes, like those Stehman and so many fellows wore. He would show them -that he knew things. Then he sat down and wrote to his sister Fannie -about it, as he did once before with a trembling hand, when he won -that essay prize in Hall and came late to dinner in consequence, and -all the fellows cried, "Yea-a, Stacy, Sophomore essay prize!" He had -pointed out that club to Fannie when she and his mother came over at -Commencement, and he had told her that Stehman was in that one. She -knew who Stehman was. - -Stacy little imagined that he was of so much consequence, but Stehman, -the tackle, had been talking about him on Sunday evening by the club -fireplace. Two of the fellows who were younger than juniors ought to -be had smiled at what he said. - -To them Jack turned with some heat, and observed, "You fellows make me -tired. You aren't under-class men now; you're old enough to know -better than to size up people by under-class man standards. Just -because Stacy has not learned to swear or smoke, and because he -worries and fusses and gets pale over what he came to college for, you -think you have a right to laugh at him. I respect him, and I wish to -the deuce I was more like him. Little Stacy is all right. And he'll -be in it all right some of these days, and he'll do a great deal more -good in the world than most of us." - -This was the longest speech Jack Stehman had ever made, and he was -duly applauded and guyed for it. But he was serious. He had a Sunday -night sour on. It was junior year for Stehman also, and he too had -been coming to some conclusions about his college course. But of a -different kind. - -It was nearly half after six when Stacy heard his friend's big voice -echo across the campus. As he pattered down the stairs in his stiff, -new Bluchers, he could not help wishing that Stehman had come a little -earlier. Not that he was hungry, but the campus would then have been -more crowded, while Stehman called, "Hello, Ray Stace." - -As they passed under the lamp-post and Jack said "Hello" to somebody -going in the other direction, Stacy remembered how that once he would -not have believed that he should ever be walking as he was now with -Stehman's big, strong arm upon his shoulder, the same arm that had -brought down many a canvas jacket. But that was long ago. - -When they reached the club, Stehman kicked the mud from his big, heavy -shoes on the porch steps, and Stacy did the same for his bright new -little ones. The door flew open and the brightly lighted interior of -the club was before them. Stacy caught a glimpse of an open fire and -deep, comfortable places to lounge in beside it, and some etchings on -the wall. He heard knives and forks and many voices, all going at -once, and laughter and exclamations. He spied a waiter hurrying in -with a tray full of dishes. A little nigger boy, with innumerable -buttons on his jacket, began to help him off with his overcoat, and -just then he heard one voice exclaim emphatically, "Doc., I say they -can't do it," and he wondered what it was and who could not do it. - -Stehman said, "Come over here a moment--no, this way." - -"Oh, this way?" said Stacy. He was led to a large open book with names -written on it. - -"Will you give us your distinguished signature?" said Stehman, dipping -the pen in ink and handing it to him. - -"Where shall I write--oh, yes, of course." Stacy wondered how many -people would read Horatio B. Stacy, introduced by John Carter Stehman. - -Though he had made up his mind to have confidence he felt a little -flustered. Perhaps the voices of many diners and the sight of many -rooms and various passage-ways and the negro buttons were a little too -much for him. Besides his glasses were blurred at coming in from the -cold and that always rattled him. - -Possibly his host noticed this, for he said, "Boo, I'm cold. Let's -warm up before grubbing," and led him to the fire and pushed him into -a chair big enough to hold two Horatio B. Stacys. - -He was perspiring now, but he held out his hand to the cheerful blaze -as if to get all he could of it. He looked at the andirons and the -crackling wood and glanced up at the etchings. He thought, "It must be -very fine to have all this every day." - -"Well, do you feel as though you could eat something?" Stehman lifted -him by the coat-collar. - -Stacy made answer, in a familiar tone, "I'm ready any time you are, -Jack," and then to himself, "Keep cool now." - -Stehman, with his hands in his pockets, led the way with his slouching -football walk which the freshmen studied on the way to recitations. -Stacy followed. He slouched pretty well, but his pockets were at the -very top of his trousers, so that his little coat turned up behind. - -They entered the bright, noisy dining-room. "Jack, why so late?" some -one was calling out, when suddenly there came, "Hello, Stace." "Hello, -Kay." "Hello there, Stace." "How do do, Stace." Most all of them -seemed glad to see him, and he was quite overcome with answering them -all. Jack showed him where to sit. - -After the waiter had pushed the chair under him and he had unfolded -the napkin there came in a solemn voice from the end of the table, -"Horatio, how do you do this evening?" - -"Why, Lint, old man, how are you?" he returned quickly in a strong -tone. Then he smiled a little because Linton might be guying him. But -he was not. - -It seemed that many eyes were upon him and he felt embarrassed and -strangely lonely because his host had turned to speak about something -to someone on the other side. So he gave his glasses an unnecessary -rub and took three sips of water in quick succession. - -The waiter placed the soup before him, and while he was occupied with -it he had time to gather himself together. Some of the fellows, he -noticed over his glasses, leaned over or else slipped way down in -their chairs in the same purposely reckless manner of under-classmen -days. But he held his little shoulders back and used his spoon very -daintily. He would show them that he had good table manners. - -Stehman now began to chat with him in his easy familiar way. But the -big fellow's manner always seemed to indicate that he was mindful of -how much higher was Stacy's class rank than his own. - -He was more at ease now, only whenever the conversation flagged he -could never think up anything to renew it with. He suspected that he -was blushing, and there really was no reason for blushing. These were -all his own dear classmates, some of whom he knew quite well, and they -all seemed kindly disposed toward him and included him in their -general remarks and even addressed him sometimes in particular. He -made up his mind that he must say something to Dougal Davis across the -table. - -He took a drink of water and wiped his lips and cleared his throat and -spoke. "Dougal, have you poled up Billy's history for the written -recitation?" Which was the very sort of thing he meant to avoid. But -it was too late now. - -"No, but I expect to put a wet towel around my head and hit it up -until three o'clock to-night," Dougal answered, sincerely. - -And Stacy thought he was joking. He therefore laughed, saying, "Like -fun you are." - -He never could tell when some of these fellows were in earnest, and -Dougal Davis was something awful to him anyway because he stood higher -in the class than Stacy himself, and yet had time to be mixed up with -half a dozen outside interests of college life and did a comfortable -amount of loafing besides. - -"I suppose you have it all down fine, Stace?" asked Timberly, -agreeably, "and will pound out a first group as usual." - -"Naw," boldly replied Stacy, "I've barely looked at it. Don't intend -to bother with it." That was the way to talk. - -But it was all wasted, for just then Lamason came in with a suit-case -in his hand and his town clothes on, and everybody was crying "Yea-a" -in loud, shrill tones, and some one began singing "Oh, to-day is the -day that he comes from the city," and all joined in, even little -Stacy, though he did not know the words and blushed and closed his -mouth again when any one looked in his direction. - -Meanwhile Lamason, without smiling, or seeming to be aware of the -noise, said, "Bring me some dinner, Henry, please," and taking a -_Princetonian_ from his pocket began to read an editorial on the lack -of lamp-posts on the south campus, and paid no more attention to the -remarks about his good-looking clothes than to Timberly, who was -painstakingly mussing up his nicely brushed hair. It impressed Stacy. -Except that they no longer considered it funny to throw things or to -be profane without necessity, the fellows seemed to be as free and -jolly as in under-classmen days. He had supposed that there would be -some dignity about a great fine elective club with white curtains at -the window and a board of governors. - -While beginning upon his roast beef the waiter placed a small, narrow -glass by his plate. He heard the "pop" of a drawn cork behind him. He -had understood that the club constitution forbade alcoholic beverages. -The waiter was filling his glass. He heard something hiss and sizzle, -but he did not like to look because it would be so obvious. This would -be a good opportunity to show these fellows that he was not such a -shark as they supposed. Still, after keeping out of temptation so many -years, he did not like the idea of running the risk of becoming a -drunkard now. But, perhaps, it would not be wrong to taste a little of -it. - -"Are you fond of Apollinaris, Ray?" asked Stehman, emptying his glass -at a gulp. "I'm a disgusting guzzler of it." - -"Oh, yes, I'm--I like it very much," said Stacy. Stehman asked him to -have another piece of roast just to keep him company, and without -giving time for answer, Stacy heard him say, "Two second, -Henry--rare." Jack made him drink another bottle of Apollinaris, too, -though it pricked his tongue, and he said he did not want it, and he -felt that he was imposing upon his friend when he saw him write out -another voucher for the amount. - -Most of the table had finished by this time. They were smoking with -their coffee. Those who could afford it were smoking cigars and those -who had used up their credit with the Cigar Committee were solacing -themselves with pipes. Some there were who did not smoke at all. - -"Our crowd," Jack explained, "makes it a matter of principle never to -leave the table for a half hour or so. It's good for the digestion." - -Three or four of the fellows were leaning back with their heads on the -backs of chairs or on one another's shoulders. One was slouching with -his elbow on the table and with his other hand he played with the -salt-cellars. And some looked perfectly contented and happy, and some -looked grave or sour, and all were beautifully and completely -indolent, and everything seemed comfortable and happy and Bohemian to -Stacy, and he thought it fine to eat his dessert with the smoke -floating about it. - -Dougal Davis opposite was blowing fat, well-formed rings aimed at the -top of Stacy's Apollinaris bottle, while Linton, without looking up, -was informing him, in picturesque, though hardly complimentary -language, that he had a mouth splendidly adapted to ring-blowing. -Davis kept on sending rings across the table, and paid no attention. -Stacy wondered whether they were on bad terms with one another. -Perhaps it was rude in him to listen. They seemed so much in earnest. - -It was difficult to understand these fellows. Some of them he knew to -be as hard students as himself, and yet they seemed to be as much in -with the crowd as the others. Someone would say something in a most -impressive, sober way, and nobody seemed to notice it, or else -everyone laughed. Of course he knew that what they were saying during -dinner about their extreme poverty was meant humorously, even by those -of the fellows who tutored or wrote for the papers to help themselves -along. But what troubled him was that he could not catch the drift and -join in and be like the rest of them. Once, when everybody laughed -heartily, and Pope bowed his head and said, "I acknowledge that I am -sat upon," Stacy laughed, too, and said "Pretty good," though he did -not know what it was, and hoped that no one knew he was bluffing. - -From another part of the house came the pounding of billiard-cues and -a few emphatic remarks, varied at intervals with a yell or a loud -laugh. In another room three or four voices were singing, perhaps -unconsciously, and the strong final notes reached the dining-room. -Upstairs someone was exclaiming, "I had next on that!" From the -lounging room came the notes of a piano, and Stacy said, "That -'Pilgrim's Chorus' is a beautiful thing, isn't it, Jack?" for Stacy -knew. - -He had enjoyed his dinner, and was perfectly self-possessed. He could -look about the room at everyone without flinching. Henry brought the -coffee in very pretty cups, with the club design on them. The buttons -came in at Stehman's ringing. "Jackson, get me a ---- Ray, you don't -smoke, do you?" - -"Oh, yes, I do," Stacy replied. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon--bring some Perfectos, Jackson--please pardon -me, I forgot entirely that you smoked. I must have mixed you up with -someone else. I thought sure you did not smoke." - -He seemed so cut up about it and his voice so pathetically apologetic -that Stacy felt sorry for him, and had to say, "That's all right, -Jack. You see I have just begun. That is, I haven't been smoking very -long, you know, on account of my eyes." But he hoped the others did -not hear. - -"Will you have a cigarette first?" Stehman asked. - -"No, I prefer a cigar," said Stacy, in a fine, deep voice. Stehman -lighted a cigarette. - -Horatio had never smoked but one cigar before, and he was not certain -about how much of the end to bite off. But it seemed to draw all right -when the buttons held a match for him. It did not make him feel the -least bit sick. He thought he held it between his first and second -fingers rather well. - -His host began to talk about the Dean's English again, and Stacy -changed the subject. Of course Jack meant it out of consideration for -him, but Stacy could talk about other things than his studies. -Presently Jack began again. "What collateral reading are you doing in -the Public Law course, Ray---- What's that you're saying, Timber?" - -"Oh, nothing," said Timberly, smiling satirically. "We are just amused -a little bit at your posing as a heavy poler. That's all." - -But Jack only frowned, and turned again to Stacy, who knew the others -were paying attention, and so made answer, "Don't intend to read -anything. I've quit taking notes on the lectures, too. A syllabus at -the end of the term will have to do me." That ought to show them. - -Nobody said anything for a moment, and when he looked up he could not -tell from their faces what they thought of his remark, though Linton -seemed to wear a quizzical smile. But then that fellow always seemed -to be sneering or else looking oblivious. - -Then Smith, who was a track athlete, went on with his conversation -with Pope. He was venturing the opinion that Princeton's prospects for -the spring were poor. He was a young man who thought he had a dignity, -and he liked to have people pay attention to what he said. He had -reason to suppose that his opinions on athletics amounted to -something. So he was rather astonished, as were Stehman and the rest -of the table, when Stacy's high voice burst in with, "No, now, you -don't mean it, Smithie. You are joking, aren't you?" There was no -reason why he should not be familiar and play horse like the rest. - -At first there was such a pause that he felt himself blush, and he -feared he had offended Smith, who had stopped talking and was blushing -a little, too. Then suddenly Timberly burst out with a snorting laugh, -and then Davis and then the whole crowd, even Linton, and Stacy -himself, because he had made such a hit, laughed modestly, though -still blushing, at which they all laughed still more. He did not know -it was so funny as all that. That was not half as witty as he could -be, as he would show them. - -But just then Stehman interrupted and claimed attention. "Timber," he -called down the table, "I heard a new one to-day on Jimmie McCosh." -Stehman then told a story about the Doctor's falling on the slippery -stones on McCosh walk, and what he said when he could not get up. Like -most imitations of dear old Jimmie's Scotch, Stehman's sounded like a -poor Irish brogue. It was not a very good story, but the fellows -imagined how it would sound if told well, and then laughed because it -was good old Jack Stehman. Stacy thought he could do better than that. - -Everything was quiet. Now was the time. He cleared his throat. "Say, -fellows, this is the way the president talks in chapel." His voice was -high and unnecessarily loud. He arose and took hold of the lapels of -his little coat and raised his brows and compressed his lips and -looked side wise through his glasses and repeated very quickly in a -strange voice, "The seven Arabic numerals do not form a sufficient -basis for crystallization about which the cardinal virtues may -cluster." Then he promptly sat down and began to puff vigorously upon -his big cigar. - -The fellows smiled surprisedly and looked at each other. Then they -laughed. They stopped a moment; then one by one they began to laugh -again, as if the thing were growing on them. Finally they roared and -kept on roaring. - -At home they always applauded when he got that off, although his -mother thought it wrong in him, but they did not pound on the table -and scream and slap each other on the back, as these fellows were -doing now. It must have been because this audience was more familiar -with the original. But he hardly heard them. - -"Say, fellows, I'll tell you the story of the little boy who stole the -jam!" he exclaimed, excitedly. Before Stehman and one or two others of -this same crowd he had tried once in freshman year to tell this same -story, and failed for lack of courage. He was not the least bit -frightened this time. - -He leaned back in his chair and imitated the boy's voice and blew -smoke between sentences and gesticulated with the cigar in his hand; -and when he had finished everyone pounded and screamed and applauded -as before, while he only shut his lips tight and tried to look -serious, as all good _raconteurs_ should. Would not this be fine to -write to Fannie about? - -"Good! Good!" they were shouting to him. "Give us another, Stace. -You're a good one. Do the Dr. Patton act again. These fellows haven't -seen it." - -"No, we haven't seen it. Let her go." - -Stacy raised his eyes from the table-cloth. Those of the juniors that -had left and some of the seniors, hearing the racket, had come in to -see what was up. The piano had ceased. Fellows were pushing into the -room with cues in their hands and their coats off. Some of them were -sitting on the table. Some had their arms about one another's -shoulders. Leaning against the door-post, with a pipe in his mouth and -a merry twinkle in his eye, stood a senior named Bangs, whom Stacy, in -freshman year, feared more than anything on earth. He had never, until -this moment, forgiven him. - -Before Bangs and over half the active membership of the club did -little Stacy, who used to cross the street to avoid being looked at, -jump up on a chair and with greater gusto than ever, with his funny -little mouth twisted up, with his voice strained to produce a peculiar -resonance, repeat part of a sermon once preached by the president of -the college. And when he had finished, his hearers were doubled up on -the floor with laughter. - -Throughout all this Stehman alone seemed unappreciative. He laughed in -a nervous way. Once he said, "Let's go sit by the fire." Could it be -possible that his good friend Jack, who was accustomed to being the -most popular, was--no, he would not think that of him. - -"Do something else," they were crying. "Go on. Go on. Please!" - -If he wanted to he could double them up once more, this time with an -imitation of Jimmie Johnson's stuttering, but he absolutely declined. -He knew that brevity was the soul of wit. "Stacy, you ought to go on -the stage!" one of the seniors exclaimed. - -But he only answered, "Naw. That don't amount to anything. Shoot." And -then they all began laughing once more at the mere remembrance of it. - -Jack arose to go. Stacy picked up the huge cigar, which had gone out, -and jamming it firmly between his teeth, strode after his host. He -walked past the fellows, who were still laughing, as modestly and with -as unconscious an expression as Jack Stehman himself wore on the -football field when running back to his place after making a -touch-down and the crowd was cheering. - -In the hall he said, "I think I'll have to go now, Jack." His voice -was joyously nervous. He could not hold in much longer. - -"Must you go, Ray?" - -"Yes. I must finish a letter. Good-night, Jack, old man. I've had a -bully time." - -The buttons was helping him on with his coat, and he repeated, -"Good-night, Jack, old man. I've had a bully time." His voice nearly -broke. - -Then the door closed, and Stehman, who was angry, turned toward the -convulsing crowd by the fire and said, in a calm voice, "I greatly -admire what you fellows have done this evening. You are indeed typical -Princeton men. Oh, you have the true spirit." - -"Fine poler, your quiet, inoffensive, young friend," some one rejoined -with a chuckle. - -"Not ashamed--as you were reminding us the other night--not ashamed of -being a poler either," said the fellow Stehman had jumped on for being -a kid. - -"Wow!" cried Bangs, with a groan of laughter. "I haven't had so much -horse since sophomore year." - -Then Linton spoke. "Jackie, dear, don't look that way. It's not nice. -And do not chew a rag because your little poler did not develop as you -wanted him to. You must learn to part with your ideals----" - -"And, Jack, you must admit," interrupted Davis, "that it was absurdly -comical. It was mean to laugh, but how could we help it? His standing -up there and kicking up his poler antics, like an old cow, and -thinking all the time that he was----" - -The rest was cut short by Stehman's bringing his big fist down upon a -table by the window. "But, Dougal," he thundered, "that doesn't make -any difference. He was my guest. Because he tried to bring himself -down to our tone you fellows let him make a fool of himself, and sat -there and laughed at him, like a set of snobs. Jackson, get my coat." - -"You needn't talk so loud," growled a sarcastic-faced post-graduate. -"The people across the street don't care to hear about it." - -"Don't go away with your back up, Jack," Linton shouted after him -good-naturedly. "And you need not worry about little Stacy. The best -time he ever had in college was with us snobs here to-night, and he's -probably chuckling to himself now on his way across the campus about -the big tear he made." - -But little Stacy was not doing anything of the sort. One of his new -Blucher shoes had come untied when he had jumped up on the chair to do -the president act, and he stopped to tie it by the light of the club -window. And it was wide open. - - - - -THE HAZING OF VALLIANT - - -This story begins with a girl. She was small and had a nose that -turned up and a quiet appreciation of the ridiculous. All summer long -she sat on the sand without a veil and was nice to two little boys in -clean duck trousers and buzz-saw hats which blew off sometimes. - -One of these was eighteen years old and had a complexion that women -envied and felt like kissing. He was small and dainty and smelt like -good soap. His name was Valliant. The other was a little older, -considerably bigger, and much more self-assertive. Except for his duck -trousers he wore orange and black with his class numerals on -everything. That might have made but little difference. But the girl -decided that she would like it more if they would become angry for her -sake, which they one day did. - -After that whenever the little one was alone with her his voice was -soft and his manner thoroughly abject. She liked this. She liked his -sweet-and-cleanness also. The other, whose name was Buckley, had an -untamed, defiant way of tossing his shoulders, like an unbroken -stallion. She liked that still more. When she sat out dances with him, -she put him where the arc-light on the veranda would play upon his -eyes, which were good, and talked about the other boy's nice manners. - -Best of all she liked to have both about her at once. The sophomore -breathed lungfuls of cigarette smoke and told her how hard his class -would haze the freshman in the fall, and how cold the canal was on a -frosty night, while the sub-freshman only gazed out over the legs and -arms splashing and gleaming in the surf, and tried to smile in a way -to show Buckley that he was not taking offence. For what could a -sub-freshman do? - -Then the girl would poke the end of her red parasol in the sand and -say: "I think it would be just too mean of you to haze Mr. Valliant. -He is such a good friend of mine." This was because it is woman's -nature to take the part of the weak and oppressed. - -But one day the sophomore made a remark about "pretty pink-cheeked -boys," which had been better left unsaid. Then arose the younger one -and shaking impressively a slender, pink-nailed finger, he spoke. -"You had better not try to haze me, Will Buckley. Do you hear what I -say?" Which was the very worst thing he could have said. Besides it -was decidedly fresh. - -But he was very much in earnest and quite angry and his young voice -broke in the middle. The sophomore laughed mirthfully and the girl -became genuinely sorry for a moment, despite the humor of the -situation; and as she watched his dainty legs retreating over the -dunes toward the cottages it repented her of having stirred up enmity -between the two, and she resolved from that day to make up for it. -This she did by being always good to the little one in the presence of -the big one, which seems short-sighted in her. - -Thus did one small girl amuse herself throughout the week, and then, -when Saturday evening came and the children were left to burn -cigarettes by themselves, she entertained the men with it, who came -down to spend Sunday. For her nose turned up and she was good at -mimicry. She won't be mentioned again. - - * * * * * - -In the glorious old days of untrammelled class activity when everyone -recognized that there were certain duties owed the freshman by the -sophomore class, as Hall talk was due them from the upper-classmen -(another good old custom now defunct), you had only casually to drop -word to a freshman on the way to recitation to wait for you when night -came, back of Witherspoon--as you would bid a classmate come to a -spread in your room--and he would turn up promptly and smilingly, take -his little dose meekly and cheerfully, and go to bed a better boy for -it and brag about it every time he dined out in Christmas holidays. -But all that is changed now. - -Even in the days of which this is written, which were only -comparatively modern times, one had to play a very careful game to do -any hazing. The freshman was beginning to hesitate about putting out -his light when you yelled up at him from the street. People were -putting strange notions in his head. He was beginning to think he had -a personality. They were telling him he had rights. The old glory had -departed along with Rushes and Midnight Cane Sprees and Horn Sprees -and Fresh Fires to make room for a University spirit and linen shirts. -At the present rate of retrogression--mark the prediction--it will not -be many years before the freshman will be allowed to wear the orange -and black and the sophomore a silk hat! When that day comes, may it -be that a certain Old Grad. will have attended his last reunion. - -Twice had Buckley waited near the house where Valliant ate his dinner. -But it's quite light after dinner in September. He had gone to the -house where he roomed, and asked the landlady if any of the gentlemen -wanted to join the Y. M. C. A. But that, like the _Nassau Lit._ and -_Princetonian_ subscription-list-game, had been played out; the door -was closed in his face. Then for three successive nights he waited in -an alley near by, and on the third night the freshman came. But with -him an upper-classman friend. - -Buckley said things and kept in the shadow. But the freshman had good -eyes and said as he took out his keys, "Oh, is that you, Mr. Buckley? -Why, how do you do? Aren't you coming up to see me?" That was horribly -fresh. - -"Not now," Buckley growled. "Which is your room?" Excusing himself -from the upper-classman, who was enjoying all this, the freshman led -Buckley into the alley-way, and pointed up at the wing of the house. -It was a large one and many people lived in it. "That room up there -next to the one with a light in it. See?" he said in polite, friendly -tones. This was decidedly fresh. - -Buckley said he would come up later on in the evening, which, of -course, he had no intention of doing, and saying "Good-night" -good-mannerly enough, he slinked off, and the freshman took his friend -up the stairs, which smelled of damp carpets. - -The next night Buckley got his gang together. They blew smoke in one -another's faces and decided that a little exhibition of oarsmanship in -a basin of water with toothpicks would do to warm up with. Then a -cross-country jaunt would be appropriate, running, walking, and -crawling to the canal. Here, as the freshman was proud of his shape, -he would be given an opportunity of displaying it while the moon -reflected in the water. And, if he felt cold after that, he could -climb a telephone pole for exercise--they didn't want to be -inconsiderate of his comfort--and sing "Nearer my home to-day, to-day, -than I have been before," at the top of it. Then with a few -recitations and solos on the way back he could be put to bed. This -would be a good night's work. - -It was nearly two o'clock when they carried the ladder into the -alley-way. They laid it down in silence. - -For several reasons this was to be a right nervy go. A young professor -and his young wife had a suite of rooms in the house. But it wasn't -that which troubled them. This was. The moon shone full and strong -upon the clear, blank wall of the house, and it was in plain view from -a certain spot a distance of about two blocks away. Across this spot a -certain owl-eyed proctor was pretty sure to pass and repass off and on -all night. - -That was the reason they were sitting on the ladder waiting for a -signal from Colston, who was over by the certain spot watching for the -certain proctor. - -"Buck, which is the freshman's room?" - -"It was the one next to the light and the light was in the room over -the side-door." - -"Second or third story?" - -"Sist! not so loud. Why, let's see, the third." - -"Yes," said Haines, "don't you see the window's open up there. None of -the family would do that. Town people would never air----" - -"Listen!" - -A whistle came from the silent distance, the first bar from "Rumski -Ho," then a silence, then the same bar repeated. And by this they knew -that the proctor had walked into the open space and out of it again, -and that if they hurried they could put the ladder against the house, -send a man up it and take it away again before the proctor crossed -the open space once more. - -Buckley started up. The others leaned against the bottom round to -steady it. Then he came back for a moment. "Don't take it away until I -get all the way in--until I wave my hand. There's plenty of time. Keep -cool," he whispered, as he nimbly began his ascent. For his descent he -was to rely upon the stairs, the freshman, and his own persuasive -powers, for what are freshmen and stairs made for? - -Buckley was a right devilish young man, and typically a sophomore. The -year before he had climbed the belfry of old North and stolen the -bell-clapper and gained class-wide renown. Already this term he had -mounted the water-tower and painted the freshman numerals green. The -very night before this he had run around the eaves of Reunion, which -is no easy trick, with "Bill," the night proctor, behind him, and when -he dropped off the bottom round of the fire-escape into the arms of -another proctor, he had wriggled out again. Still there are sensations -peculiar to scaling a ladder stretching toward the black of an open -window, with a moon throwing shadows of yourself and the rounds of the -ladder against the dull bricks of an old-fashioned house, while old -North strikes two in the distance. Buckley felt them. - -The ladder did not quite reach, and he had to stand on the top round -and stretch for the sill. Then he pulled himself up, got one foot -over, took a longer grip on the inside of the window, dragged the -other foot up, as you would climb a high board fence, and was in the -room with both feet. He leaned out and waved his hand. The top of the -ladder silently swung out from the wall and swooped down in silence. -Buckley turned and started across the room. - -He could feel the heavier atmosphere of indoors. A small clock was -ticking somewhere. He detected a faint scent of mouchoir powder, and -was just remarking to himself half consciously that it was just like -that pretty-faced freshman, when from somewhere there came a soft -voice, saying, "Is that you, dear?" - -Then, before all the blood near his backbone had time to freeze into -little splinters of ice, he said, "Shsss," and stepped out of the -moonlight and into the shadow, which is the best thing to do in case -you are ever in a similar situation. Buckley's instinct made him do -it. - -Across the silence the soft voice floated again and mingled with the -moonlight, "Oh, I'm not asleep. But why did you stay so long, Guy, -dear?" There was another sound. It was the squeaking of a bed-spring. - -Then, as Buckley's knees stiffened tight against each other, he spied -coming toward him something white, with two black streaks hanging half -way down, which as the thing came into the moonlight, he saw to be -long braids of dark hair. Also, the light showed a tall, slender -figure clothed in but one garment, which was white, and a face which -was young and beautiful. Buckley had never seen a woman dressed that -way before, and he closed his eyes. - -But he felt it coming nearer and nearer. He stood up perfectly -straight and rigid in the darkness as two arms reached up and met -about his neck. The arms were soft, and they smelt good. - -Buckley did not budge, and the soft voice began, in a sort of whisper, -"You have not forgiven me yet?" It began to sob, and he felt the -sobbing against his orange and black sweater. "You know I did not mean -it. Won't you--forgive her? Won't you forgive--her?" And Buckley fully -realized that he was in the thick of some romantically ghastly -mistake, and that the only thing he could do to make it worse would be -to speak or show his face. - -For fully half a minute he stood thus motionless, with his arms at -his sides, gathering himself together, and trying to think what to do. -And when he had made up his mind what to do he gritted his teeth and -put both arms about the Clingy Thing. - -And when he had done that the Clingy Thing began to purr in soft, -plaintive tones, which undoubtedly were sweet, and would probably have -been appreciated by Buckley if he had not been so rattled. "Tell me -that you _do_ forgive me. Say it with your own lips." - -Buckley said nothing with his lips. He was biting them. - -"Guy, speak to me!" - -Buckley didn't. - -"Speak to me, my husband!" A soft, fragrant hand came gently up along -his cheek, which tingled, and over his eyes, which quivered, and -pushed back the hair from his brow, which was wet. Suddenly she raised -her head, gave one look at his face with large, startled eyes, then, -with a shuddering gasp, she recoiled. - -But Buckley was not letting go. This is what he had been preparing -for. Keeping one arm about her waist he threw the other around the -neck in such a way that he could draw it tight if necessary, and said -in one breath, "For heaven's sake, don't scream--I can explain!" - -"Ugh! Oh, let go! Who--let me go or I'll screa-ch-ch-ch." - -But Buckley didn't let her do either. He pressed on the windpipe, -feeling like three or four kinds of murderers as he did so. Then, as -she struggled with feeble, womanly might, Buckley did the fastest -thinking he had ever done in all his nineteen years. The door of the -room--was it locked? The stairs--where were they? The front door--was -the night-latch above the knob? Was it below? Would it stick? All this -time she would be screaming, and the house was full of men. He would -be caught. He was in for something. But was he hurting her? He began -to talk. - -"Oh, please, if you scream it'll only make things awfully awkward. I -got in here by mistake. I can explain. I'm not going to hurt you. Oh, -please, keep quiet." - -She tried again to wrench away from his grasp, and Buckley drew her -back with ease, feeling half sorry for her poor little strength. -"Promise me you'll not cry out and I'll let go." - -"Yes, yes, I promise," said the scared voice. "Anything. Only let me -go." - -Buckley released his grasp. She fled across the room. He thought she -was making for the door. He sprang toward it to keep her from running -downstairs and arousing the house. But she only snatched up an afghan -or something from the sofa, and holding it about her retreated to the -dark part of the room. - -Buckley couldn't see her now, but he heard her moan, "Oh dear, oh -dear!" in a muffled tone, and he felt that she must be cowering in the -corner farthest away from him, and it made him have all sorts of -contempt for himself. Then he talked again, standing with his back -against the door and looking toward the dark. "I don't know who you -are," he began in a loud, nervous whisper, "but whoever you are, I -wish you wouldn't cry. Please be calm. I want to talk to you." - -"I don't want to hear you--I don't want to hear you." - -"Not so loud, or we'll be heard." - -"Oh, oh, how can you trade upon my necessity? Haven't you a grain of -manhood, a spark of kindness in you----" - -"Yes, yes, lots," said Buckley. "Listen to me. Please listen. It's all -a big mistake. I thought I was coming to my own room----" - -"Your own room!" - -"I mean my classmate's room--I mean I thought a freshman roomed here. -I wouldn't have made the mistake for anything in the world. You -aren't half as sorry I got in your room as I am--Oh, yes, you are!--I -mean I'm awfully sorry and wish to apologize, and I hope you'll -forgive me. I didn't mean anything----" - -"Mean anything!" - -"Really I didn't. If you'll only let me go down and promise not to -wake the house before I get out, why, no one will ever know anything -about it, and I'll promise not to do it again. I'm awfully sorry it -happened." Buckley started for the door. - -"Mrs. Brown--Mr. Brown, help! murder!" - -"Oh, for heaven's sake don't!" cried Buckley. - -"I will. Just as soon as I get breath and strength enough I mean to -wake the house, the neighbors, the whole town if I can." - -"No, you won't!" Buckley started across the room. - -"Stop!" she cried. - -He stopped. The voice was commanding. It seemed already quite strong -enough to scream. He said: "You promised not to scream." - -"But you forced me to promise." - -"Are you going to scream?" - -"I am." She was getting her breath. - -"Oh, don't; please don't. If I wanted to, I could hurt you. I don't -want to hurt you. Ah, have pity on me!" - -The bold, bad sophomore was down on his knees, with his hands clasped -toward the dark, where the voice came from. He was very sorry for -himself. - -"You stay right there in the moonlight." - -"Right here?" - -"Right there. And if you dare to move, I'll scream with all my might." - -Buckley first shivered and then froze as stiff as if a hair-trigger -rifle were pointing at him. "How long must I stay here?" he asked, -without moving his head. - -"Until my hus-- Until daylight," returned the voice. - -"Until daylight!" repeated Buckley. There was something impressive in -the deep, rich voice of this tall young woman, and whoever she was, -Buckley could tell, from the refined tones, that she was a lady. He -could just make out the gleam of her face and of one arm in the dark -corner. - -Outside, the crickets were scratching in the warm, still night. It was -after two o'clock. A moon was shining in his left eye. And he, William -Buckley, was kneeling, with his hands stretched imploringly toward a -girl whom he had never seen before, in the third story of an -old-fashioned Princeton house, which he had entered for the first -time by a ladder which, by this time, was resting serenely against a -freshly painted house in Mercer Street, whither it had been borne by -four classmates, who were now at the corner of Canal and Dickinson -Streets, as per agreement, and cursing him for taking such a long time -to pull one small freshman out of bed. Meanwhile, the moon was -approaching the window-post. - -"Please, oh, please, whoever you are," he began, in earnest, pleading -tones, "won't you forgive me, and let me go?" - -There was no answer. - -"I am a gentleman. Indeed I am! I wouldn't harm a girl for the world. -Please let me go. I'll be fired--I mean expelled from college for -this. I'll be disgraced for life. I'll----" - -"Stop!" The voice seemed to be calm now. "While it may be true that -you did not break into my room with intent to rob or injure a -defenceless woman, yet, by your own confession, you came to torment a -weaker person. You wanted to haze one of the freshmen in this house; -that was it. And when my husband----" - -"Oh, have mercy on me. Won't you have mercy?" Then he began to tell -her what a good boy he had always been, and how he had always gone to -church, and how fond his mother was of him, and that he was the pride -and ambition of the family, and similar rot, showing how completely -scared to death he was. "Just think what this means to me," he -concluded. "If I'm fired from college, I'll never come back. I'll be -disgraced for life. All my prospects will be blighted, my life ruined, -and my mother's heart broken." - -She gave a little hysterical sob, as if the strain were too great for -her. "Yes, for your poor mother's sake; yes, go!" she exclaimed. - -"Oh, thank you with all my heart. My mother would, too, if she could -know. I don't deserve to be treated so well. I shall always think of -you as my merciful benefactress. I can never forgive myself for -causing you pain. Oh, thank you." - -Buckley, the sophomore, who had strode into that room so manfully, in -the full pride of his sophomorish strength and orange and black, -grovelled across the room and out of the door, then tip-toed his way -down the hall stairs, silently pulled back the latch of the front -door, and sneaked off, with his tail between his legs. - -The outside air did him good, and by the time he reached his impatient -class-mates he had thought up a fairly good lie about the freshman's -being ill, quite seriously ill, and about his stopping to look after -him a bit, which they admitted was the only thing to do under the -circumstances, though it was blamed hard lines, after all the trouble -they had taken. "Better luck next time, Buck," they said, and went to -bed. - -By the ten o'clock mail next morning Buckley received a letter in -strange handwriting. It said: "Just as a tall woman looks short in a -man's make-up, so does a short man look tall in a woman's make-up, and -you should know that blondes are hard to recognize in brunette wigs. I -could have done more artistic acting if you had come up earlier, when -I had on my full costume. You ought to know that a real girl wouldn't -have behaved quite that way. You see you still have a number of things -to learn, even though you are a soph. Sort of hard luck, all this, -isn't it, old man? Hoping that the rouge will wash off your lips and -that you will learn to forgive yourself, I am your merciful -benefactress, H. G. Valliant." - -This is the freshest thing I ever heard of. - -There was a P. S. which said: "Whether or not this thing gets out -rests entirely with you and your hazing friends." - -Of course it did get out, as all such things do; but Valliant was not -bothered again by sophomores, though he ought to have been hazed up -and down and inside-out and cross-wise by the whole college. - -You can see him if you attend the next production of the Dramatic -Association. - - - - -HERO WORSHIP - - -Near Old Chapel he used to linger on the way from recitations, buying -things from old black Jimmie and pretending to be amused by his -stuttering conversation while he watched the passers-by. And when The -One came along for whom he waited, he said to himself, "Oh, he's -wearing his brown shooting-coat to-day," and turned and gazed after -him until out of sight, wondering what lecture he had at that hour and -how he would get along at it. Then passing on slowly across the campus -he turned out upon the street. - -When he reached his room, Darnell said to another freshman that lived -in the house, "I saw Lawrence to-day. He was walking with his arm -around Nolan. He passed right by me." And he could also have told just -how he nodded to the fellows along the walk and how he swung his legs. -Darnell thought that Lawrence's gait was just right. So was his manner -of dressing. Somehow Darnell could not make his corduroy coat hang in -that way. It lay back all right, but it would not stay snugly up on -his shoulders as Lawrence's did. - -He used to see him quite often now, for by this time he had learned at -what hours Lawrence's lectures came. Which was more than the senior -himself knew, for he had always to look at the schedule tacked up on -the back of the door over the faculty and absence committee summonses. - -Darnell remembered the first time he saw Lawrence. It was on the -morning of the first day of the term, while he was sitting in the -office of the old Nassau Hotel, quietly waiting for his mother and -trying not to appear green and thinking that everyone who came in was -a sophomore and wanted him. It was raining, he remembered, and people -came scurrying in with their trousers turned up and mackintoshes on. -Lawrence came in alone. - -He came with his impressive stride and a very long paddock coat and a -new kind of shooting-cap which he brought back with him from -Piccadilly the first of the month. He frowned and glanced about the -room. And when he found the two faces he was looking for and strode -across to where a worried-faced gentleman in a silk hat was reading -the paper beside a freshman with a grinning face, he said, holding -out his hand, "So you have arrived." It was just the patrician tone -of voice that Darnell had expected when he saw the face. - -When Lawrence stretched out his hand his long coat fell open and -disclosed an orange monogram of many closely intertwined letters -shining against the black of his undercoat. It was worked upon the -breast-pocket, and the freshman wondered what that mysterious insignia -might mean. - -He watched him as he jerked his head and blew smoke in the damp air. -The way he tossed the ashes away was perfect. And when Lawrence -suddenly turned and, looking frankly in the freshman's father's eyes, -said with a reserved smile, "You need not worry about that, Mr. -Jansen," and stretched an arm about the freshman's shoulder, Darnell -thought he would rather be that freshman than anyone in the -world--except the owner of the arm. - -Then he began to speak again, and Darnell found himself leaning -forward a little. He remembered thinking, "I don't care if it is -impolite to listen." - -Lawrence said in a rapid manner, without opening his teeth very wide, -"The team? We brought them down from the island last evening. Sea air -is a good tonic to begin a season's training with, and they are all -in excellent shape. Billy, you must bring your father down to the -field to see my big brown babies." Darnell remembered every word, -though he did not understand quite what it meant at the time. - -Soon after getting settled he took pains to pick up an acquaintance -with this freshman. That was the time he first found out that the -senior was one of the Lawrences. The freshman said, "Yes, he's a -mighty fine fellow. He played on his class eleven in his freshman -year." But that was all Jansen said. He did not enthuse as he should -have. He had no more than the ordinary fear and reverence of a -freshman for a senior. There was a man on the team named Stehman. He -was the one this freshman turned and gazed after on the campus. - -But now Darnell knew more about him than Jansen did. From the last -year's "Bric-a-brac" he had learned the senior's club and what -committees he was on, and the book opened up now, of its own accord, -to the picture of the Glee Club. He could have told you Lawrence's -middle name and his street and number at home, and his campus address -as well. Whenever the freshman went to night session of Hall he looked -up as he went by to see if the room in West were lighted, and he -wondered what he was doing up there behind those curtains. Once, -while passing by, some one was calling "Hello-o-o, Harry Lawrence!" -and in Lawrence's own voice came a muffled "Hello! Come up." It did -not seem quite right for them to be noisy and familiar with Lawrence -as with ordinary fellows. He did not understand how Lawrence allowed -it. - - * * * * * - -In Jansen's room it was, and Old North was ringing curfew, when -Lawrence shook his hand and said in his peculiar throaty voice, "Glad -to know you," or else "Glad to meet you." He never could be certain -which it was. It was on a Tuesday evening, and he had made a poor -recitation in algebra that day. He noticed that Lawrence was only -about an inch taller than himself. - -Darnell looked straight back at him and said, "I think I have heard my -sister speak of you, Mr. Lawrence. She met you down here at the -sophomore reception last June." His voice was perfectly firm and -strong, but his mouth persisted in drooping a little at the corners. -He could not help that. - -Lawrence said, "Yes, I remember very well," which delighted the -freshman's sister Louise, when Darnell wrote to her about it, just as -much as if it had been true. "Is your sister coming down to any of -the dances this year?" added the senior. - -"No, I don't believe she is. My aunt brought a whole crowd down that -time. Mamma was on the other side, or she would not have allowed it. -Louise is not out yet." Then he dropped his big brown eyes and blushed -because he felt that he was talking too much and because he had said -"mamma" before the senior. - -But Lawrence was only looking grave and interested and well-bred, and -he replied, "I see. That's too bad. I wish she could come." - -"Yes," said Darnell, "I wish she could come," and then, although he -did not want to, he arose to go, because he thought that Lawrence -wished to talk confidentially with his freshman, Jansen. - -Lawrence, who did not care about his going, because he found it as -easy to talk to two freshmen as to one, said, "I hope I'm not driving -you out, Bonnell. Good-night. If your sister should decide to come -down this year, don't forget to let me have a chance at her card -before it's filled. Good-night, Bonnell." - -"Oh, I won't," said the freshman. "Good-night." - -As if he could forget. As if he would be allowed to forget, indeed! -She, dear little thing, in her own becoming little way, worshipped -him, too. And at Mrs. Somebody's School in Somethingtieth Street, she -used to slip an arm about the waist of her latest everlasting friend, -and whisper something about it on the way upstairs after prayers. - -During her evening's acquaintance with him in June she had told the -great, dark, wonderful man that had "a whole tragedy in his face," "a -certain indefinable something" in his manner, and many other things, -too, no doubt, that she had a brother who was coming to college the -next fall, and she asked Lawrence in a very timid, pretty, natural -manner if he would please look out for her brother, who would be a -freshman and only sixteen years old. And Lawrence, who was watching -the way she held her head and approving of it, said, "Of course I -will," and forgot about it during the next dance, which was with a -Newark girl, who asked him how the Sunday night hot-liquor club was -prospering. That was last June. - -To be sure Lawrence did not get his name just right, but then many -people did not come that near when they first heard it. Besides, what -of that? Had he not looked at him and addressed him twice? That was -more than most freshmen could say. - -But it hurt a little the next day, when Darnell changed his mind -about going to the library because he saw that if he kept on up the -walk he would meet Lawrence coming toward Dickinson's with three other -seniors. For he received only an absent-minded glance without the -movement of an eyelash. But you could not expect Lawrence to remember -all the people he met. And, perhaps, he was worshipped all the more -for it. - -On Sunday he used to gaze with his big brown eyes from his seat in the -freshman section way over through the juniors and past some of the -seniors, back to Lawrence's place. Sometimes a big head of football -hair was in the way, so that he could not tell whether he was there. -He was absent so frequently. But when they all arose to sing the first -hymn, then he could see, and then he would recall what the football -column in the paper he had been reading before chapel reported that -"President Lawrence" had done or said, and he wondered whether he -himself had read it and how it felt to see one's own words in type. - -He seldom joined in the singing, Darnell noticed, unless it was "Ein -Feste Burg" or "Lead, Kindly Light," and though he could not tell why, -Darnell admired him all the more for his not singing every time. At -any rate, it was just like him to stand there with his hands in his -pockets and his aristocratic head thrown back and look dark and grave -and mysterious. He always looked especially so, Darnell thought, in -chapel. His mien seemed to be haughty and kingly, not merely dignified -and exclusive like that of many upper-classmen. Lawrence when a -freshman could never have been hazed or guyed. He could not imagine -him stooping to haze anyone either. - -Lawrence could do anything. Anyone could see that from his eyes and -chin and the straight, firm mouth with the thin lips. Darnell knew -very well that Lawrence could stand high in his class if he wanted to. -Probably he could play football. He was built well enough. Darnell -thought it would not be quite Lawrence's style to play football. He -would hate to see him tackled or rolling in the mud. That would never -do for him. Lawrence, he thought, would not have played on the team if -he were asked. Darnell had been a Princeton man less than a month. - -But he had what was far better than playing on the team--the -management of it. And he was just right as he was. He was a dignified, -weighty senior, respected by all and feared by many, no doubt, and a -man, not a boy, who had travelled much and lived much and had had all -sorts of experiences in his younger days. He was old now, nearly -twenty-two. - -But the most wonderful thing about him was his composure and his -commanding reserve. He had the look of the gentleman. His manner -seemed altogether impervious to excitement. He was master of every -situation. To have such a man in their classes must have been rather -embarrassing to the professors. Darnell supposed that the other -Lawrences were rather afraid of him when he came home. - -His perfect command of himself and of everyone and of everything about -him was what most impressed the freshman. That was the reason that -when his idol fell, it jarred him. - - * * * * * - -On Thanksgiving evening his head was throbbing and his ears ringing -with the echo of horns and cheers, and before his eyes were flashing -little kodak recollections of how the line looked when the ball was -put in play, and how the crowd waved and yelled when the full-back -tried for a goal. But there was a lot of aunts and cousins and -things-in-law for dinner, whom he had to kiss and smile at when they -said, "How you have grown!" He wanted to get near some class-mate and -put his arm about him and talk it all over, like any other healthy -young man after the game. And, as early as he decently could, he -slipped on his big new coat and stole out by the basement door. - -He walked down the avenue to Madison Square, getting jostled and -excited once more. Noisy gangs of fours and eights and dozens were -marching and dancing along the street. Some wore orange, others blue. -Some were students at various colleges, most of them had never seen -one. - -He went into the Hoffman. Closely packed streams of men were crowding -in and out. The air was hot and there was a confused din of many -voices. He worked his way to the end of the glaring room, but saw none -of his intimates and but few fellows that he had ever seen before. -Most of the crowd were of the sort he had seen on the street, young -men of the town with college ribbons all over them, and such -boisterous noises grated on him, so he started out again. Some hoarse -cheering and husky laughter made him turn and look toward the corner -where the throng was thickest. Then he hurriedly pushed his way -through the crowd to gain a nearer view of what he saw upon the table. - -He tried to persuade himself that it was someone else. He did not -understand how he could be among people of this sort. - -But there was no mistaking that mouth, though he had never seen the -hair hanging down that way, nor the eyes as they were now. About the -neck was the rim of a hat. - -Suddenly two other fellows brushed past Darnell. He looked up and -thought he remembered having seen their faces on the campus. They -seemed to be excited, and they wedged their way roughly through the -crowd to the table. "Leave him alone," one of them was calling out -above the din. Brushing aside some slight interference, they picked up -the heap from the table, half carried it through the crowd, saying, as -they went along, "You're all right, Harry. Brace up, Harry, you're all -right," and paying no attention to the crowd, they hurried across the -room to the Twenty-fourth Street entrance and disappeared. - -For a moment the freshman only stared at a long, tall clock and -wondered. Then he suddenly turned and hurried out into the street. - -It was no affair of his. The others were there. They were the ones to -take care of him. But the electric light had given him one glimpse, -and for the moment it was very revolting. He turned and walked slowly -home. - -He tried to reason himself out of it. It was nothing to feel so queer -over. It was not such a terrible thing, after all, especially after -having the game turn out as it did. Most every young man was -indiscreet at some time or other. Lawrence was a young man like many -others, only he happened to have been indiscreet under unfortunate -circumstances. That was all. It seemed worse than it really was. - -But he did not want Lawrence to be like others. That was just the -point. If it had been someone else he would not have cared. But for -Harry Lawrence, Lawrence the superb, his Lawrence, there in that -glaring place--jeered at and made a fool of--by that mob of muckers. -It was all wrong. - -"Well," he said to himself, as he went upstairs to his room, "I -suppose I'm too much of a kid, and I'll have to get over my kid ways -of looking at things. The sooner the better." - -But all the same, it hurt, and when he was dropping off to sleep, he -was startled into wakefulness again by one of those queer, sudden -pangs which make one ask, "What is it I've lost?" - - - - -THE RESPONSIBILITY OF LAWRENCE - - -I - -Many fellows seem to think that all an athletic officer has to do is -to look important and travel about the United States with his team and -make out a bill for expenses. - -It's easy enough to carry a japanned tin box, and sell tickets through -a hole where the wind blows, as treasurer. As president it is a fine -thing to make frequent trips to New York, and attend conclaves that -are secret, and make speeches in conventions and read your opinions -next morning in the paper in fine long sentences prefixed with -"President So-and-so said last night," and to be lunched by famous -authorities and interviewed by rapacious reporters who think that -because the public supports football they have a right to see all the -inside workings of intercollegiate diplomacy. All this is the pretty -part of it. - -But like all greatness there is a deal of hard hustling and -perspiration and discouragement and annoyance underneath. So much so, -that one seldom has time to tell himself how fine a thing it is to -wear a 'varsity blazer with the orange monogram on the breast-pocket. -And this is usually heavy with bills to pay and memoranda of things to -see to. Besides, the responsibility is tremendous. - - * * * * * - -H. Lawrence, Ninety Blank, had blood-shot eyes this morning, and he -hurried down the clattering iron stairs of West College tying his -neck-tie. As the ugly entry door slammed behind him he did not put his -hands in his pockets and begin to whistle, as he used to do in -under-classman days, because he was not sauntering over to Reunion to -smoke a pipe, or down to Witherspoon to loaf until the next lecture. -He glanced at the clock in old North tower and hit up his pace. - -He had given orders to the team to be at the station with their grips -packed at 9.38, and before that time he had to wire a member of the -Graduate Advisory Committee, asking where he could find him that -evening, and to an official of the Manhattan Athletic Club that he -should not be able to consider his proposition at present, and to the -manager of a Southern college football team that he regretted that all -Princeton's open dates were now filled, and to the Jersey City Station -restaurant to prepare a luncheon of training food for twenty men, and -not to roast the beef to death this time. After that he would have to -call upon the dean and find out whether the faculty had decided to let -Harrison play football or not, and find and be nice to another member -of the faculty who was indignant because seventeen grand stand tickets -had not been saved for him and his wife's relatives at the last -Saturday's game, and then hurry to the station by way of the bank, -where he would ask if they had heard anything more about that -protested check, while he was making a good one out for himself, and -then see to it that all the team and subs were flocked together and -pushed into the train and made to stay there until told to get out and -play football. Some of which would have been more properly the duties -of Sinclair, the treasurer, who was not catching on as rapidly as -Lawrence thought he should. - -He took long, strong strides and looked straight ahead of him, which -was in the direction of an old shop opposite the gate, with a -picturesquely warped roof which he did not see. - -He did not see the fellows along the walk either, and those he did not -cut he nodded to absently without removing his frown. This caused -certain passers-by to shake their heads and say, "Harry Lawrence is -getting a swelled head since he's become so important," especially -those who greatly wanted to be important themselves but weren't, and -so had plenty of time to criticise those who were. - -But Lawrence, with a half dozen unopened letters in his pocket which -he would read on the train going up, did not dream of being -criticised. And if he had he would not have felt very badly about it. -He did not have time. - -Nor would he have had time to stop and thank his good friends Nolan -and Linton, who, when Lawrence had rushed by with one of those -"How-do's" which make one think that one's name has been forgotten, -had looked worried and then said, "Harry'll kill himself before the -end of the season," while Lawrence tore open a telegram with which the -boy met him in front of College Offices and hurried on. He had no time -for breakfast, because the man had forgotten to wake him, and the -night before he had been handling the files of applications for the -Thanksgiving game seats with Sinclair and dictating to a stenographer -until 2 A.M. - -Every evening from eight until midnight there was a reception in his -room, with Sinclair to help receive. It began when they came in from -the club after dinner, with a workman or two from the town waiting in -the entry, who touched their hats and said, "Please, sir, Mr. McMaster -says this bill is correct." Then would come members of the team who -wanted the management to remove conditions for them, and coachers who -wanted to talk serious business and had but a short time to spare, and -some of the fellows who wanted to smoke and chat and seemed hurt when -told to get out; and in addition, the hordes of applicants for seats, -who kept running in and out, incessantly buzzing in the management's -ears like flies, and just as pestiferously merciless, from eight until -twelve, when the door was locked. - -These represented all phases of college life, from the professor who -"never incurred any difficulty in getting all the seats he wanted in -previous years" to the young freshman whose mother knew the -management's mother, and thought he might be especially considered for -that reason, and including class-mates who made it a personal matter -of friendship, and thought they ought to be considered ahead of mere -strangers for that reason. Also emissaries from a certain woman's -college, who must have tickets before they are put on sale, because -the poor, timid girls could not stand in line with all those men, and -cousins of members of the team, and many others, all of whom furnished -an excellent reason for being entitled to just a little more -consideration than anyone else. None of which counted them anything in -Lawrence's reign. - -But this was not what made Lawrence scowl and look fierce as he -hurried by a little, wistful-eyed freshman, whom he did not see, and -who had been hoping all the way from the First Church gate to the -dean's that maybe this time the senior would recognize him. Lawrence -was used to all this, and he liked it. He liked having a lot of things -to attend to in a short time, to see many people and give orders and -talk fast and feel his brain warm with quick thinking. He enjoyed -responsibility, and he thought it was thrilling to get in a situation -and then take a long breath, so to speak, and command it. Nor was he -too old to fully appreciate his privilege of being on intimate terms -with ancient heroes of the football field, and he was glad to be -thrown with so many other prominent alumni. And he took great -satisfaction in watching the long-headed Advisory men begin to -acknowledge by their attitude that although an undergraduate he had -reliable executive ability and somewhat of independent resource -besides. One of them clapped him on the back one day and said, "Good! -That's the proposition we'll make 'em," and added, "You are your -father's own son, Lawrence." - -Except that he would have liked to have a little time to loaf and -enjoy life, he was quite well pleased with being president of the P. -U. F. B. A., and did not care a rap whether the college considered him -arrogant or not. He was attending to his own business and had the -satisfaction of knowing that he was doing it rather well, with the -attendant satisfaction of having had the honorable position given him -by the vote of the college body without his or his friends' -boot-licking one of them for it. And that is one of the most -satisfactory feelings in the world. - -The thing that troubled him was a letter in his pocket. That was the -reason that when the ninth old grad. approached him on the field and -said, "Say, Lawrence, just between us now, what do you think of the -chances with Yale?" he replied, curtly, "How do I know?" and hurried -on up the side lines. This was decidedly fresh, and he jumped on -himself afterward because he did not believe in letting private -affairs interfere with business. Usually he could stand a dozen old -graduates. - -The letter had come the day before. It was from his father and -enclosed Lawrence's November allowance. He never received but one -letter a month from the governor, and it nearly always contained two -statements: "Enclosed please find ..." and "Your mother and all are -well," both of which make very agreeable reading. - -This time the letter was not dictated, but written in the Colonel's -own small, straight hand, and there was an extra paragraph. It ran -thus: "Had I known what this official position of yours involved, the -amount of time, the number and variety of interruptions, and the -vulgar prominence that your name and movements occupy in the press, I -should never have given my consent, which, as you may remember, I did -reluctantly, to your acceptance of it. In my opinion what you are -learning at college could better be acquired at home: a little of -business down-town with me, your _other accomplishments_ up-town in -the clubs and other places with your friends." This was not the sort -of letter to do any good. - -"'Your other accomplishments'--now what the devil does he mean by -that, I wonder?" thought Lawrence. And then he folded the letter and -tossed it into a pigeon-hole marked "Unanswered," and turned his -attention upon a large blue-print marked "Stand B" and tried to assure -himself that the reason his mind kept jumping back to pigeon-hole -"Unanswered" was because he was sorry at being too busy to study, and -disliked having such a low stand in class. But it wasn't his class -standing that kept him awake until old North struck five. - -After this when in New York he did not go up-town to dine with the -family as often as formerly. When he did his father merely said, -"Judge Hitchcock told me he saw you on Broadway last Wednesday," and -similar remarks in a casual tone. - -"Yes, sir," Harry would reply, with his attention on the crest on his -plate. - -Then each would wonder what the other meant, until Helen would -interrupt with, "By the way, I saw by the _Tribune_ this morning that -'President Lawrence of Princeton' says that Yale will beat Harvard at -Springfield. So it's all right then, Winston." He was her husband, -Yale '86, and Helen was a good sister, who had a large intuition and -knew things. - -On Thanksgiving Day the College of New Jersey went up to New York -feeling quite certain of winning the game. The alumni said we would -win. The heelers doubled their bets. The coachers were sure we'd win. -Most of the authorities conceded the victory to Princeton. The team -were confident of winning. Yale won. - -During the dinner after the game, Lawrence was dignified and silent. -People thought he was rattled, if anyone thought about anything else -than the one big, sad fact. He presided gracefully though. He was very -good to look at. The dinner, which is usually very long, was wound up -early, few being unwilling, and Lawrence helped put one of the -blubbering backs to bed who had taken too much for a training stomach -and head. Then he went downstairs, saying, "Now, then, my -responsibility is over with. I am going to have a good time." - - -II - -He had done it hard because he did everything hard. It had lasted -several days and ended in a hospital in West Philadelphia, where he -had three stitches put in his forehead. Now he was back in his old -room in West College, with a pipe in his mouth, drumming on the arms -of his chair and staring straight at his feet, which were upon the -roller-top desk. Dark rings were under his eyes and he told himself -that he had had a good time. - -He was thinking that it was quite a storybook coincidence that they -should have come together, those two letters. They were so different -and yet so much the complement of each other. - -The first was from his father. He had torn it open with his pen, as he -would any other letter, and though he saw that it was several pages in -length and knew intuitively that it would not be like any other letter -he had ever read, he had deliberately rolled up the envelope to get a -light for his pipe from the fire, and he had stretched out in the -chair again as he was before, with his legs sprawled out in front and -elbows resting on the arms, holding the letter before his face. - -Then he had commenced to smoke very hard, and presently stopped -rocking back and forth as he read the words written in that clear, -even hand, without a flourish or a superfluous mark, words that had -caused him to gnaw the mouth-piece of his pipe as they burned their -way into him. And all the while he pictured to himself a tall figure -in a smoking-jacket trimmed with white braid sitting up straight and -rigid at his desk in the corner of the cosey inner room of the office -in William Street, and recalled how once, when an absconding clerk had -left a temporary cloud on the name of the firm, the old, steely eyes -had flashed under the lowering brows as the old gentleman had taken -his seat at the breakfast-table, where he ate nothing. - -The letter sounded very like the governor. There was no mistaking its -meaning. It was a succinct and comprehensive report of dissatisfaction -at the younger Lawrence's methods, with a list of debts of filial -affection and memoranda of overdraws on parental patience covering the -last three years, and accompanied by a brief prospectus for the -unpromising future. It was the sort of a letter he would have fancied -a stately old gentleman like his father that was proud of his name -writing to a son like himself that had disgraced it. - -Only it would have been just as well, Lawrence thought, to have -omitted that part of the letter. He was quite willing to admit most of -the hard things his father said of him because they were facts, but -this about dishonorable cowardice and the family name was going a -little too far, and he told himself that he did not quite see how he -could stand that from anyone. And he sat up straight and pressed hard -on the arms of his chair and looked very like the indignant old -Colonel who had written the words. - -It was uncalled for, it was unjust, it was ridiculous. If his father -would stop to think of things as they really were in this world, -thought Lawrence, Ninety Blank, these little shortcomings of his would -not appear a bit worse than those of some of the very same young men -in town whose industry and clean business ability the Colonel so much -admired, and whom he spoke of as the hope or flower or something of -Manhattan's commercial supremacy or something. - -It was merely that he happened to be indiscreet the last time he was -having a good time. He had made a little too much noise, and the echo -had reached a number of people in town. That was all. It was hard -luck, but it did not amount to enough to become dramatic over. Merely -because his great-grandfather did something and his grandfather was -something was no reason, as far as he could see, why the Lawrences -should have unique moral standards. The governor was certainly getting -old. - -Then he had carefully arranged the leaves of the letter in order, -mechanically folded and put them in a pigeon-hole of the desk, and -opened and spread out the other letter before him. But he did so -unconsciously, for he was staring straight out ahead of him into the -face of the future, which had expressionless features. His father had -concluded with "Signify to me at once your intention of a complete -change in your career, or, notwithstanding your nearness to -graduation, I shall take you out of college and put you at work in Van -Brunt's." That is not the way a boy likes to be written to. - -"Oh, no, I don't think I'd do all that if I were you." He could not -abide his father's tone when he spoke of _taking_ him out of college -or _putting_ him at work, or doing anything with him. He was still -young enough not to fancy being considered young. - -And then the actuality of the situation occurred to him, and he was -reminded that although twenty-one he had not a cent of his own, and -that there was no place in the world to go to or a thing that he could -do to make money enough to even pay his debts. - -"Picture of a young man taken out of college because he is bad." He -smiled broadly at himself in the glass over the mantelpiece. But it -wasn't very funny. - -And it was at this point that he dropped his eyes to read his father's -words once more, and was startled for an instant to see a strange -handwriting, and then remembered the other letter. He was again -startled by the first words that met his glance. "Haven't you had -enough of college?" At the top of the paper was the name of a La Salle -Street, Chicago, firm. It was not so very queer after all. It was only -that it was so startlingly apropos. He read the letter in eager gulps. -Then he read it again. - -It was from his friend Clark, who had been so kind to him when he was -out there. And now he was still more kind. It was singular that the -offer should come just now, on that very day, at that very hour. He -would wire back his acceptance that afternoon. "Now, of course, it is -too bad to make you stop in the middle of your last year," the letter -ran, "but we can't hold it open after the first of January. I know -what a big concession you consider it for a New Yorker to come to -Chicago, but you know better than to be prejudiced. You know the crowd -you'll blow with and the clubs you'll be in, and as the situation is -something extraordinary to be offered to so young a man, I hope you'll -wire me your acceptance at once. The mature judgment you showed in -conducting...." These words came to his heated brain like a cool -lake-breeze. This was what he wanted more than anything else in the -world just now, to get away from his present surroundings, and to -start anew, where he would be his own master, making his own money and -disposing of it as it suited him, and responsible to no one for the -use he made of it or his time. He wanted to be free. - -The bell in Old North broke in on him. He looked at the clock on the -mantelpiece, and was surprised to see that it was only four, and that -it must have been but a half hour since he received those two letters. -Then he remembered that he had a lecture at that hour. It made him -smile to think of it. - -But, it occurred to him, it would be a right good idea to go--he would -be going to few enough more--anything to get out of the close -atmosphere of the room and interrupt the current of his thought. For -his thoughts were chasing each other about in a circle, and they would -not stop, although he pressed his forehead with both hands, as he used -to do during the football season. Lately his brain had taken to -behaving in a very queer manner, and a fellow he knew at the College -of Physicians and Surgeons had told him that if he did not stop -worrying about things he would have neurasthenia or something as ugly -sounding as that. - -As he opened the entry door and stepped out into the open air of the -campus, the old bell began throbbing, clear and strong, in his ears. -It somehow recalled freshman year and how he used to run to reach his -seat before it stopped ringing. - -He was in the crowded quadrangle now, with fellows all about him with -books or note-books under their arms, whistling and singing and -hallooing and scraping their feet along the walks just as they had -always done. Over in front of Reunion was the usual crowd kicking -football and squabbling over their points. The side over by College -Offices was shouting exultingly "Nine to seven!" and a fellow on the -side near by was announcing with equal conviction, as he turned the -ball over in his hands to punt, "Eight to seven." Lawrence found -himself saying "Eight to seven," and mechanically watched the ball as -it sailed through the air and lodged up in one of the second-story -balconies, and stopped to listen to them set up the cry, just as he -knew they were going to, "Thank you, up there, please, thank you-u-u!" - -It struck him as queer that all this was going on just as it always -had, without a single variation to show that this day was different -from other days. It seemed odd to think that he was not to be a part -of this any more. It somehow seemed more odd than sad. He told himself -that it would be a great relief to fly far away from it all. - -Down the walk came a group of his own class-mates, carelessly -slouching along from lecture, laughing and joking, with their arms on -one another's shoulders. It was Linton and Nolan and Stehman and -others. "Hello, there, Harry!" they said and passed on down the walk. -Lawrence turned and watched them. He had replied to their salute in -his usual manner. It had seemed natural and his voice was in perfect -imitation of heartiness, and yet he could not help thinking how little -difference it would make to him if they all fell down dead. The sight -of them bothered, Nolan's bow legs annoyed him. He hoped he would -never see Nolan again. And this was Billy Nolan! - -The bell was echoing and re-echoing in his ears, and each stroke -fairly made him jump. The sight of so many people and the knowledge -that there were others behind him were beginning to give him a feeling -of distress. He felt that he could not stand having so many people -press close to him. It was somehow rattling him. Everything he saw -hurt, and he only wanted to get far away from it all. For he told -himself that he hated the campus and its life, and everything that had -to do with it. The very expression of the buildings was offensive to -him. He wanted to upset the wheelbarrow and its sticky contents when -old black Jimmie touched his hat to him, and he felt like kicking two -innocent seminoles that hurried past with quick, conscientious steps -that made their coat-tails flap behind. All of this was nervous -nonsense, and he knew it. - -He left the crowded walk and walked over toward the cannon and leaned -against a nearby elm-tree. Then he fixed his gaze steadily upon the -top of the old cannon and tried to think of nothing else. He had -learned to take himself in hand this way during his overworked -football season. "It isn't so bad as all this," he said aloud to -himself. "You are still rocky and your blamed nerves are getting in -their work again. That's all it is. Now, then, hold on. You aren't a -hysterical little school-girl, you know." - -In a moment he started on toward Dickinson Hall again. "We are going -to a lecture now," he explained to himself in a whisper, "and we're -going to hear lots of interesting things. We can talk over all those -other matters later on. There's plenty of time, plenty of time." - -He took a long, full breath, as though to hold on tight, and threw up -his head and looked squarely into a pair of brown eyes that were -gazing intently at him. It was That Freshman. - -He had often wondered why he was constantly running across this same -little freshman with the sensitive mouth and the large, thoughtful -eyes. He did not know his name, but he enjoyed observing from the -patronizing height of a senior an air of delicate refinement in the -features and movements of the boy. Sometimes when in a good humor he -nodded to him. But just now the peculiar wistful gaze breaking in on -him in his tossed-up state of mind seemed eerie. For an instant he had -a feeling of guilty fright, as if caught doing something. And then, -because angry with himself for being startled by a freshman, he -blurted out, in a husky voice, "Oh, what do you want?" - -The under-classman blushed and stepped back. He said something -incoherent ending with "Why--er--nothing-- I beg pardon." He attempted -a smile, failed, colored more than ever, dropped his eyes in -embarrassment, and with a sort of shiver turned on his heel. - -The senior, with his own harsh voice still echoing in his ear, stood -there with his hands in his pockets watching the younger boy shrinking -before him. Then something inside of him was touched. He felt how -brutally rude he had been, and he wanted to make amends for it. He -felt more than that. He wanted to be kind to this boy with the refined -face; he wanted to be tender toward him, to protect him, or something -queer and wild like that. Though he did not acknowledge it to himself -tears were ready to come to his dark, blood-shot eyes with the dark -rings under them, and he had an impulse to throw his arm about the -freshman's shoulder and say: "You dear little fellow!" Neurasthenia -could account for some of this. - -As it was he turned and followed the freshman from the side of the new -bulletin-elm, where this took place, to the corner of the Old North. -Here, hardly realizing what he was doing, he touched his shoulder and -said, in a gruff voice, though he did not mean it to be, "Don't you -want to take a walk?" - -But even if he had stopped to think about its being an odd thing to -do, it would have made no difference. He was hardly in a mood for -considering conventionalities. - -After awhile he found himself walking with the freshman way out toward -the Prep. school. To the left was the old view of rolling fields and -the gentle hill. Underfoot were the uneven stones of the old walk with -water-puddles in the hollowed-out places. And there beside him walked -the freshman, talking in a natural tone about a fine tennis-player -that he thought was coming to college next year. It was all quite as -if it were an ordinary occurrence. - -Lawrence could remember the freshman's look of surprise as they -started across the campus, and he recollected murmuring some apology -for his rudeness by saying that he thought it was someone else at -first. Then he must have started the conversation by asking the -freshman what recitation he had just had. But after that it was all a -blank until now. He was under the impression that he had been nodding -to people, but he could not remember who they were or anything about -them except a big-visored, faded crimson cap that someone had on. -Probably he had been carrying on the conversation automatically with -the freshman, but it must have been all right, for the boy did not -look as though anything strange had happened. But a very great deal -had. - -Perhaps it was a sort of hypnotism, though very likely it could be -explained as nothing of the kind, but at any rate from the moment his -thoughts had been stopped with a jerk at meeting the freshman they had -taken a different turn. With the boy at his side and his gentle voice -in his ears Lawrence had begun thinking about another red-cheeked boy -he had known once; and it seemed much more than four years ago. He -felt again the very expression of those old bright days at school when -he took prizes and played on the eleven. He remembered the old field -and how the afternoon sun used to reflect from one of the windows near -by. There came back to him the very odor of the polished desk in the -school-room where he scratched H. L. L., and all the little details of -those dear old days of happy monotony and innocent amusements. He felt -again the old excitement of an approaching vacation. He remembered how -he used to check off the days on the calendar over the mantelpiece, -and he remembered the first trip he took home alone and the blue -serge suit he wore, of which he was so proud, and how he wondered who -would meet him at the station, and best of all, how he used to jump -out of the carriage and run up the steps of home and meet the one that -came out into the hall to meet him. Joyously and innocently he used to -look up into the soft gray eyes that seemed to say, "I am proud of my -boy." But that was a peculiar thing to think of just now. A passage in -his father's letter occurred to him. "Of course I did not, nor shall I -advise your mother of all this"--he had had to turn the page, he -remembered, to find the rest of it--"it would break her heart." "Of -course," he said to himself, hurriedly, "it wouldn't do at all." Then -he thought he did not care to dwell upon old times any more. It was at -this point that he awoke, so to speak, and found himself walking with -this freshman whose name he did not know. - -But instead of everything springing back to actuality immediately as -one would suppose, it took some time to hammer things into seeming as -they really were in their proper proportions. It was like trying to -act sober. He began by paying conscious attention to what his young -friend was saying. - -After all he was only a freshman. He talked like any other fellow -except that his voice was more gentle, and he had a deferential manner -when addressing him. Though rather young to be in college and of -unusual appearance, there was not enough about him to affect a fellow -in such a queer sentimental way. - -And yet he did. To Lawrence he seemed different from everyone else in -the world. He had never experienced this peculiar melting feeling -toward anyone before. What was more, he liked it, and he had no -thought of laughing himself out of it. He had an undefined idea that -it was doing him good. He felt like clinging close to this companion -who was younger and seemed so many times better and purer than -himself. - -Then suddenly the senior was struck by something he had not remarked -before. He waited a moment to make sure. Then it came again. There was -no mistaking it this time. The refined voice was dragging in profanity -at absurdly frequent intervals, with every other sentence almost. He -had very likely been doing so all along. And the odd part of this was -that every word of it was making Lawrence wince and shiver like seeing -a respectable woman drunk. It was none of his business. It was all -nonsense. The expletives were not very bad ones anyway. But he did -not care to stand any more of this; and as abruptly as he had proposed -the walk he said: "Oh, excuse me, I have an engagement," and turned -rapidly toward the campus. Perhaps neurasthenia had a hand in this -also. - -He did not stop to see how the freshman took it. He did not want to -think of him now. He fairly ran up Nassau Street with a feeling as -though someone was after him. He rushed past the fellows along the -walk and nearly bumped into the three old professors starting off with -the Irish setter for their sedate evening stroll. He was trembling -when he reached his room, and he slammed the door and threw himself -down on the rug before the fire. - -He knew something was coming. He knew what it was, too, but he was -going to fight it off as long as he could. He drew the end of the fur -skin up over his head and pressed hard with both hands, as though that -would keep him from thinking of what he did not want to think. Then he -rubbed the back of his hand across his wet brow and tried to sneer the -thing away as he had always been able to do at other times. But this -was not at all like any of the other times, and it would not work. -Besides his nerves were in no shape for a fight of this sort, and he -soon gave up. He let his head fall back against the rug and he lay -there flat on the floor while the aching thoughts came soaking over -him. All this had been accumulating for many days. The freshman had -set it off. - -And it was not as if he had only a little to feel sorry over. He could -not even say, "I'm no worse than most fellows," for he had gone quite -far indeed, much farther than anyone in the world, except two or -three, had any idea of, and he had things to remember that very few -older sinners than he would often care to think about. It seemed so -certain to him now, as he lay there breathing hard and staring at the -fire as though expecting it to jump out at him, that these -remembrances were never going to let up on him for a single moment; as -long as he lived, no matter how he might live in the future, these -unforgetable things were, from this time on, to rise up and spoil -every bit of sweetness in life for him. - -But that was not what hurt the most. It was just and reasonable that -all that should be as it was. It was the thought of his people at home -that was making him squirm and roll over toward the desk and then back -again toward the fire. What had they done to deserve this? He could -not understand. Aside from all consideration of right and wrong, or -wisdom and folly, he was astounded at the thought of how a fellow -could be so dead, dead unkind. It would not seem possible at first. He -kept asking himself, "Is this really true? Is it really true?" - -For an hour he lay there on the floor, with his remorse and his sick -nerves, telling himself the kind of a fellow he was, while the rest of -the college went to dinner. - -After this came the reaction, the natural instincts of love and -yearning for the home that he had left. He told himself how that -vacations would come, and little Dick, the prep., would come, and -Helen and all would come out there to the old place on Long -Island--all but one. His place at the table would be vacant. No, there -would be no place for him. They would avoid mentioning his name. They -would change the subject when visitors referred to him. After awhile -visitors would learn not to refer to him. He would be known as "the -one that went to the devil." - -All his self-reliance had been squeezed out of him. He did not care to -be independent now. He did not want to be free. He wanted--oh, how he -wanted!--a place to go to and people to care about him, like everyone -else. He shrank from the thought of standing alone. He did not feel -equal to it. He felt himself to be nothing but a boy, after all, a -bad, foolish, wilful, sick boy, and he wanted to run home and, just -for once, let his throbbing head fall into his mother's lap and have -her hands smooth the ache out of it. But of course he could do nothing -of the sort. - -The more he thought of it the more impossible it appeared. Why, for -four years--he half arose from the rug and his face became hot at the -thought of it--for four years he had been doing things that she would -not believe him capable of; not if he told her himself. No, he was not -going to sneak into the home-fold like a cowardly prodigal, bleating, -"I have been a bad little boy, papa. Take me back, and I'll promise -not to be bad any more." He was not that kind. He deserved his husks, -and he meant to chew them, even though they stuck in his throat. To -keep away, he showed himself, was one means left him to regain a -little of the self-respect that he had lost. - -Then he arose with something of his former indifference and laughed at -himself a little. "You've felt sorry for yourself long enough," he -said aloud; "what you've got to do now is to make the best of it." He -started toward the desk to take the first steps toward making the -best of it. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked about at -the pictures and the pipes and the books. "I'm done with college," he -said, briskly. "Now I feel better." - -He lighted a pipe to show himself how much better he felt, and began -to word a telegram to Clark. That would finish a good day's work, he -thought. A very long day it seemed, too. Some things were hazy and -dream-like. That walk with the freshman-- But he did not want to think -about that, and he wrote down "W. G. Clark, care West, Houston & Co." - -Yet, though he tried not to listen, there began coming up to him the -tones of the gentle voice dragging in profanity with such pathetic -pains. "But I don't want to think about that!" Lawrence exclaimed. But -all the while he wrote the message he heard the timid voice with the -incongruous words. - -"I wish you wouldn't do that," he said aloud. "It bothers me. Why do -you want to do that?" He dipped his pen in the ink and held it there. -Why did he? Then it came over him with a blush of shame that it was -doubtless to find favor in his sight. Most people would have guessed -it before. - -And then something flashed through his mind, something that he had -heard early in the term. A freshman named Jansen, whom he had looked -out for when he first arrived, had told him of a freshman that was -always talking and asking questions about him. Lawrence had entirely -forgotten this, and the recollection of it made him start up from his -seat. This accounted for the freshman's haunting him on the campus, -gazing at him, imitating his style of dress even. - -It was quite ridiculous. He tried to sneer it out of his mind. But he -could not. He was finding that there were some things that could not -be sneered away. But that was not all. - -A big question met him like a huge, choking wave--"What will this -boy's future be?" And Lawrence pleaded, "Oh, let me alone! Never mind -all that." - -The wave drew back and another came drenching over him--"Will he do as -you have done?" - -"Don't, please don't!" cried Lawrence. There came up before him in his -sick mind lurid, revolting scenes, and in them a fair-faced boy with a -sensitive mouth learning to like it all. Then came a third wave--"Who -will be responsible? What are you going to do about it?" This was a -little too much for Lawrence. He felt powerless to think it out just -now. He would need time for this. Unconsciously he stepped back to -the rug. He lay there, very quiet, almost motionless, until far into -the night. - -Then he arose, a very different boy from Lawrence the President, -greatly feared of under-classmen, and felt his way through the dark to -the bedroom. Here he locked the door and prayed to God, as he had been -brought up to do. - -The next morning one of the clerks, harrying by the ticker where -Colonel Lawrence seemed to be bending over the tape, suddenly -exclaimed, "Why, what is it, sir? Nothing serious, I hope?" - -Old Colonel Lawrence, drawing himself up and gazing straight ahead of -him as he crumpled a telegram in his hand, made answer, "No. My son is -coming home to spend Sunday with me. That is all." - -The clerk did not know that they were tears of joy. - - - - -FIXING THAT FRESHMAN - - -I - -Lawrence, Ninety Blank, wearily knocked four under-classmen off the -walk on the way from the railway station to West College. Then, -feeling better, he dragged himself up the entry stairs, threw his -suit-case at the bedroom portière with a sigh of relief and himself on -the divan with a sense of having done his duty. - -The Glee, Banjo, and Mandolin Clubs had just returned from their -Christmas holiday tour through the South. The trip had been a success -both in the money and the fine impression the clubs had made, which -latter would advertise the college. And that is the object of this -enterprise and is too valuable for the trustees to abolish. - -They had travelled in a special train of private cars lent by the -parents of some of the members. They had had a very good time, because -a Glee club trip is always bound to have that, and because Southern -people know how to help young men in this respect about as well as -any people in the world. Lawrence was glad it was over. - -He had not intended to go on the trip this year. He had been on the -club since he was a freshman. He knew all there was to know about it, -and there could be little novelty in this sort of thing for him. But -that was not the reason. - -Of course it was not. Harry Lawrence enjoyed travelling about the -country with a rollicking lot of congenial fellows, and being made -much of by old grads., and admired before the glare of foot-lights by -millions of attractive girls, and dancing with them afterwards until -three o'clock in the morning, like any other normal, healthy young -man. It was not because he was _blasé_. He wasn't that sort of fool. - -In the first place Lawrence had suddenly gone home, early in December, -with something pronounced by a little, short doctor with mild blue -eyes which saw everything to be a form of neurasthenia. This was -brought on by overwork and worry and other causes. He had held a -position of considerable responsibility during the football season. He -had worried over it a good deal. - -Although, when he reached home, he braced up with astonishing -rapidity, he conceived a notion that instead of flying over the United -States at the rate of ever so many miles an hour, he would like very -well to sit still and yawn by the fireplace at home with slippers on. - -His mother opened up the old place on Long Island for a part of every -winter, and he thought he could put in a very comfortable -old-fashioned vacation out there with her. He had an idea that it -would do him good to take some long tramps over the meadows with a gun -and a dog, and to spend whole afternoons on a horse with pure country -air whistling in his ears. Perhaps, if he felt right cocky, he might -borrow some pinks of his brother-in-law and ride to the hounds with -his Ass-cousins on New Year's Day. And the evenings would pass -pleasantly enough in fighting with Helen, his married sister, across -the table, and in guying his kid brother Dick, the prep.; and then he -meant to have many long after-dinner smoke-talks with his father, with -whom he had recently become acquainted. It was on this last account, -as much as any, that he wanted to stay at home. - -But one of the second basses had the grip and another a dead -grandmother, and that side of the stage was weak anyway. So Doc. -Devereaux, the leader of the club, followed his two letters and three -telegrams out to Compton on the Sound, and grabbed Lawrence by the -coat-collar. He had brought with him a reprieve from the little -blue-eyed doctor, stating that Lawrence could go if he would promise -to keep on with the hot and cold baths, and to eat tremendously. -Devereaux begged and pleaded, and put it on grounds of personal -friendship. When he shed tears, almost, and said, "For the honor of -old Nassau won't you, Harry?" Lawrence looked bored and said he would -think about it. But only upon condition that Doc would stay for dinner -and spend the night at Compton, which he did. - -When Colonel Lawrence came out from town and had comfortably finished -his dinner, and in his stately fashion had taken out a long black -cigar, Harry, who had been waiting, said, "Now then, father," and told -him why Devereaux was there, and asked him what to do about it. - -Lawrence, Fifty Blank, knocked the ashes off, looked at Lawrence, -Ninety Blank, and took three puffs of smoke. "Well, Harry," he said, -"if the college needs you, there is but one way of looking at it." -Lawrence, the younger, said "Yes, sir," and packed his suit-case. - -Having decided to do his duty, he made up his mind that while he was -about it he would enter into the spirit of the thing and have a good -time. Of course this was not as satisfactory to himself as wearing a -long face and telling himself what a martyr he was, but it was -pleasanter for his friends. - -These trips are not only good fun, they are part of one's education. -They are very broadening. Lawrence wanted to be broad-minded. The only -times he had travelled in his own country were with the Glee Club, and -he thought every young man ought to know something of his fatherland. - -He held that most New Yorkers were narrow-minded in this respect, and -he did not intend to be. New York ways of doing things were good -enough for him, because they were the best, but he wanted to see how -other Americans looked at things; and this showed a generous spirit. - -On a previous trip he had visited a portion of the Western section of -his country, and had brought back several new ideas. For instance, he -was pleasantly surprised to meet girls with the same innate ideas that -he had supposed were the exclusive possession of his friends at home. -That was broadening. Also he had it impressed upon him that young -women living in little towns he had never heard of before had -characteristics, not necessarily innate, which were calculated to make -very young men realize that even members of college dance committees -have a thing or two to learn. Which was still more broadening. - -And now he was in Virginia, surrounded by much dazzling full-pulsed -Southern loveliness. He was meeting people that had been brought up to -consider themselves the aristocracy of the American side of the world, -and they had been cherishing this idea for generations before New York -was more than a trading-post of miserly, Indian-cheating Dutchmen. -They had never heard of the Lawrences of New York and were rather -sorry for anyone that had to live there. And this was broadening. This -was not to be about the Glee Club trip, nor about what Lawrence would -have done if he had not gone, but what happened afterward, and if you -read this story you may skip to here: Lawrence lay on the divan. - -He put his hands back of his head and tried to tell himself how sick -he was of teas and club receptions and convivial old grads. and -applause and dances and chicken-salad and girls. Cinders were in his -hair. What he wanted most in all the world was, first, someone to -carry him to a Turkish bath, second, someone to dress him in his -campus clothes, and third, Billy Nolan to put an arm around and call -names. - -But this reactional feeling he knew was inevitable, and he took it, as -he did his sensation of dirtiness and indigestion, as part of the -game. There was something else to make him fidget and frown on the -divan. - -Lawrence had come back to the slushy old sunshiny campus a very -different fellow from the one that used to climb the stone steps from -the station, but he had had a month in which to become accustomed to -it. Besides, that was nothing to be sour about. He was very well -pleased with being a different sort of a fellow, and had made up his -mind to remain so. In fact, all during the trip he had been thinking -that he could put in a peaceful, comfortable time now for the rest of -his life, if it were not for one thing. - -And as he started across the campus with a roll of corduroys under his -arm, and the intention of taking a bath at the club, the very first -thing he saw was that One Thing. - -There was a "Hunt's Discourse" under his arm, and he was running to -reach his seat before the bell stopped ringing, like any other -freshman. But he was different from every other freshman in the world, -to Lawrence. - -This boy, like some of every freshman class that ever cheered itself -hoarse, was beginning to do things his father had not sent him to -college for. And the senior had an idea that his own example was what -had started the boy; and this, when you stop to think of it, was -extremely conceited in him. He thought he could make the freshman -stop, and this, when you stop to think of it, was a hasty conclusion. - -He thought about it during the time occupied in splashing and -spluttering at the club, and most of the time that he was shivering -and whistling and putting on his ugliest sweater and oldest corduroys -and most disreputable slouch hat, and his brown shooting-coat with -quail blood on it. He even thought of it several times while his hands -were deep down in his pockets and his shoulders were slouched forward -and a pipe was in his mouth and an arm was around Jim Linton and they -were floating about the campus calling hello to everybody that was -back. - -The first thing undertaken by Lawrence, the entirely different, was -the purchasing of some fine large text-books. For his foremost duty -was of course toward himself. - -He had never bought any books since freshman year, but he knew where -they were to be found, and a poler named Stacy gave him a list of the -ones he required. - -They were all nice new copies, with the book-store smell about them. -He did not like second-handed ones, and then, too, he was going to -pole very hard and he might wear them out. Besides, his book bill had -never been large--except in his letters--and he thought he could -afford the extravagance in his senior year. - -He took great pleasure in writing his full name on the fly-leaf with a -blotty pen, Henry Laurence Lawrence, Jr., in a flourishless hand like -his father's. They made quite an imposing pile on the table, and he -felt proud of it. He showed them to the fellows that dropped in that -evening to say, "Glad to see you back," and ask him what he thought of -Southern girls. This took until 2 A.M. So he could not attend to that -other matter until the next day. - -He set the alarm-clock before going to bed and said, "Now, then, -to-morrow I fix my freshman." - -He jumped out with only six hours' sleep, though he had just finished -a long journey and his nerves required more rest, all to make chapel -and see his freshman. He saw him. - -Although he said only, "How do you do?" in a serious tone, he knew -that he was doing his duty, and felt so pleased with himself that he -went to town that afternoon and took a Turkish bath at his place in -Twenty-eighth Street--this was the only way to get the cinders -out--and stole some clean linen from his brother-in-law's top bureau -drawer, and dined with the family at home. Then, because he had not -been with them during Christmas, and because he was to be a poler for -the rest of his college course and would have few such chances, he -stayed over Sunday and was given a pensum for too many unexcused -absences when he came back. - -On Monday, however, he saw his freshman again. It was on Nassau -Street. This time Lawrence said, "Hello there!" He saw him once more -on Tuesday, coming out of Whig Hall, and said, "How are you, Darnell?" -and smiled a little. He saluted the freshman in various ways every day -but one for a week. - -This delighted the freshman very much, but somehow had no effect upon -his morals. Lawrence felt like a man wasting breath, and he did not -believe in wasting breath on under-classmen. This young Darnell was -decidedly unappreciative. Besides it was unwarrantably fresh in him -to give all this trouble to a senior, and Lawrence made up his mind to -some day tell him so. - -If it had been a good hard jumping-on that were needed, Lawrence -thought he could have managed, but this thing required tact and -delicacy, which he hadn't. Some fellows, like Jim Linton, would not -have minded a queer, unconventional situation of this sort. Lawrence -was not that kind. He knew as little about telling a fellow that he -was on the verge of making a fool of himself as he did about informing -people that they had souls, or that they should study hard. It made -him blush to think of it. - -Besides, what force would this sort of thing have coming from -Lawrence, Ninety Blank? That was the disadvantage of having a -reputation like his. Nor could he very well halt the freshman on the -campus and say, "See here. Stop this. I am a good boy now. You also -must be a good boy." Ugh! - -The mid-year examinations would be on in a week or two, or three, and -for the present he was simply obliged to leave off reforming the -freshman--especially as he had decided that it would look nice this -time for his report to go home without any conditions on it. It was -his duty to pole. - -Study, after all, is what one comes to college for. It would doubtless -have displeased his parents if they knew that he was wasting valuable -opportunities, which come but once, over a little freshman who was no -relative of the Lawrences. - -He poled very hard and was conditioned in nothing. So hard did he -work, indeed, that when the long, nervous strain was over there was -very little stuff left in him. At the senior dance, which came on the -evening after the last examination, he ran three girls' cards, and -tried to make each think that she was the only reason he had come. -This has been tried before. The next day he felt a slight touch of the -old trouble. - -He became alarmed about himself, felt his pulse, and decided that he -needed a rest. He spent three days and ten of his new term cuts at -Lakewood. The One of the three girls was there spending Lent. - -When he came back to the campus he bumped against that freshman by the -lamp-post in front of South Reunion. He was walking with a sportive -young class-mate named Thompson, who was a typical little fool, and -Darnell said "Hello, Lawrence!" in a tone which just missed being -fresh, and seemed to mean "See, I'm not such a poler as you thought." -For five minutes Lawrence forgot there was a place called Lakewood, -where tall pines murmur. - -That evening he heard things about his freshman that he did not want -to hear. They were not very bad, but quite enough so to make Lawrence -look up his address in the catalogue. He didn't know how to talk to -freshmen. They nearly all looked alike. But he rang the door-bell. - -It was Saturday evening and Darnell was not in. Lawrence frowned and -held that freshmen had no business leaving their studies at night. He -shook his head and went back to Jim Linton's room. The freshman had -not returned when he called again at eleven. - -Lawrence now thought that he had a right to be indignant. He had left -a comfortable room, a game of whist, and three class-mates, who gave -him many abusive epithets for it, all to talk to this freshman. And -see how he was treated! Besides, it wasn't as if Lawrence wanted -anything of him. What pleasure was it to him to talk to a little ass -freshman? But he was doing his duty anyway. - -It did not discourage him. He was not that sort of a fellow. He only -shook his head and arose early the next morning, which was Sunday. He -hurried through breakfast without stopping to read the papers, and -marched straight to the freshman's room on the way to morning service. - -Darnell was in bed with a throbbing brow and a slight attack of -remorse. Lawrence sat down on a trunk which would have held the -freshman's clothes if he had taken them off, and cut a good sermon by -the dean in order to give himself the chance of preaching one himself. - -"Of course it is not strictly any of my business, but I think you are -making a big mistake. - -"You must know that it is no great pleasure for me to go out of my way -to call a man a fool. But you see I have been through all this myself -and I know very nearly all there is to know about it. I have been a -great fool in college, and if I can do anything that will prevent -another from making the mistakes I made, I ought to go ahead and risk -hurting his feelings. Oughtn't I? There's nothing hypocritical in -that. Is there? - -"This thing of wild oats, Darnell, is all wrong, all nonsense, all -Tommy-rot. You know that as well as I do. Of course many people say-- -But those that say such things are either brutes with no finer -sensibilities, or else they are liars, or else they never had any wild -oats. They don't know what they're talking about. - -"Now, of course, I'm only a very young man, after all. Older men, many -of them, would laugh and call me a young prig, I suppose. But I know -what I'm talking about as regards myself, Darnell. I know the things I -have to think about and cannot forget. I know the things that come up -and stare me in the face and make me ache. I know-- But never mind all -that. - -"This is what I want to ask of you: Tell me--you've had your little -taste of it now, the glamour is rubbed off, you find there is not -quite so much in it as you thought--tell me honestly, my boy, do you -believe it pays? Don't you think that one morning like this, with a -head such as you have now, and the thoughts inside of it, with a sight -of those photographs over there on the bureau, is enough to -counterbalance all the fun there is in a month of last nights?" - -To this long speech the freshman made no reply, because Lawrence did -not say a word of it aloud. In fact most of those grand-stand remarks -were not thought out until late that night in bed, while rolling over -trying to get to sleep. He would not have voiced them to the freshman -anyway. Of course not. - -It certainly was "not strictly his business" to walk into the room of -a nodding acquaintance and call him a fool in long sentences. Lawrence -knew that. And it would have been even worse taste to open up his own -bosom and drag out his own private worries and dangle them before the -eyes of another. It is only in certain short stories that such -absurdities are performed by reserved young men. Lawrence was not that -kind of a fool. - -The Sunday morning conversation ran something like this, while -Lawrence tied and untied the freshman's four-in-hand neck-tie about -the foot-post of the bed: - -"The Fifty-seventh Street Harrisons? Yes, very well. Were they down -there?... Is that so?--to Clint Van Brunt? But I don't like her so -well as her sister. Grace is a smooth dancer though.... At Sherry's -last winter...." And similar nonsense until the conversation swung -round to the prospects of the baseball team, which had recently begun -practice in the cage. Then they both woke up and said something. - -And throughout it all the freshman was wondering why the mighty senior -honored him with a visit, and longing for a drink of very cold water. - -Lawrence told himself that this call was merely to break the ice. You -couldn't expect him to talk about such serious things when they were -hardly acquainted. Could you? - -He went again within a few days. He thought he ought to strike while -the iron was hot. It was in the evening this time, and the freshman -was brighter and better looking. Lawrence liked him more than ever, -only he wished that he would not be quite so deferential toward him. -Also he greatly wished that he would not consider it necessary to tack -those superfluous words to his remarks. It bothered him. They seemed -to come out of the refined mouth side wise. Sometimes they stuck, as -it were, and hung there while Lawrence shivered. And the more obvious -Lawrence made it that he did not consider such emphasis essential to -his own observations, the more frequently did Darnell drag it in. This -was to show the senior that he need not refrain on his account. - -This time Lawrence remained until midnight. They did not once mention -the people they both knew in town. They talked about tramping in the -Harz Mountains. - -It was evident on his third visit that the freshman considered -Lawrence's frequent coming due to approval of his development. He -stuck it on worse than ever. Lawrence was discouraged and looked it. - -The freshman, wondering why his senior friend was so silent, suddenly -lifted his big brown eyes. Lawrence was gazing mournfully at him. -Naturally this made him feel queer. He became rattled and blushed. -Lawrence became rattled and nearly did; and then arose, left abruptly, -and kicked himself all the way up Nassau Street, and all along the -stone walk past the dean's house, by Old North, in front of Reunion, -and into West, where he sneaked up to bed. He did not call again for a -month. - -Meanwhile the freshman was doubtless running as fast as his legs could -carry him, with Thompson and others of that ilk, to the devil. And H. -L. Lawrence, Ninety Blank, who by wicked example had started him -going, was doing nothing to stop him. Which was the very best thing he -could have done. - -For this is a sort of a disease, and if it's there it's bound to -manifest itself, like other things that break out at about this age. -Any fatherly, well-meaning interference, such as a fellow like -Lawrence might offer, would have had directly the opposite of the -desired effect. If you do not believe this, it clearly indicates that -you do not understand it. - -Lawrence did not. He, poor devil, skulked off and tried to forget -about the freshman, like a rejected lover, and, again like one, he -could not, even though he went across the street to avoid meeting -those big eyes. - -Once more he took a long breath and sneaked off to the freshman's room -with a brave lot of kind, smiling advice which he practised saying on -the way over. In a moment he came running back to the campus, shouting -for joy. The freshman was not at home. - -He yelled "Yea" with all his might and danced three times about the -cannon, all alone, like a man back on the campus in midsummer. Then -because it was Princeton someone else yelled "Yea-a!" from over by -Clio Hall. Then Jack Stehman raised his window and yelled "Cork up!" -because he felt like it. Someone in East yeaed back in a shrill voice. -Tommy Tucker stepped out upon his balcony in Reunion and echoed it -mightily. Someone blew a horn, a big Thanksgiving game horn. Others -took it up. Windows were thrown open all over the campus. Many voices -sounded the ancient cry of "Fresh fire! Heads out!" Shotguns banged. -Fire-crackers exploded. Bugles sounded. Distant Dod took up the echo. -Witherspoon Hall was already doing its part. - -Within two minutes Lawrence was joined by a score of fellows who -danced with him about the cannon, yelled "Fresh fier-r-r! Heads out!" -until they had brought everyone out they could, then called "Leg pull. -All over!" and ran back to their rooms again, feeling that they had -done their duty. Windows slammed shut again. A voice from down in -Edwards Hall answered "All over!" Every one went on where he left off. -All felt refreshed and strengthened for their duties, and Lawrence -leaned alone against the cannon. But he too felt better. - -He decided that this was a species of Providential interposition, a -sort of vision as it were, the interpretation of which was that any -man who would allow a little fool freshman to destroy the happiness of -the culminating year of the best period of life in the dearest spot on -earth would be an unmitigated ass. - -He now fell to distracting his mind with work and other things, and -realized the beauty of existence, as all undergraduates should. -Besides the beauty of existence there were others that he was in the -habit of dwelling upon during sunset rambles through the woods down -toward the canal; pretty little foolish thoughts which young men who -are still students and have yet to choose an occupation have no -business in thinking. But the way her hair swept back from that brow -of hers on either side of the chaste part and then swirled-- But that -will do. Lawrence and his affairs already occupy too much space. - -And as suddenly as they were interrupted in that paragraph were his -walking-time thoughts cut short whenever that confounded freshman -loomed up with an arm about the Thompson boy, followed by a brindle -bull-dog and a trail of cigarette-smoke. - - -II - -Gussie Thompson was an angel-faced child with pretty ringlety hair, -and he had come to college from a strict boarding-school with the -intention of making a bad man of himself. And when a boy wants badly -to go to the devil there is no reason why he should find it very -difficult. In this thought I find I have been anticipated by Virgil. - -But though the descent is easy it does not follow that it is always -graceful. Thompson, who was conscientiously trying to do it properly, -had his discouragements and sour balls just as often as the poler who -sat in the next seat and wore trousers that were too short. - -People persistently considered Gussie disgustingly good, when in -reality he was very bad and smoked big black cigars with red and gilt -bands about them. And indeed it is discouraging to walk down to the -football practice with the gang, breathing cigarette-smoke at every -fifth step, and then have some class-mate you have nothing to do with -ask you, before all the fellows, to lead class prayer-meeting the -next Sunday. But all that was over long ago. - -He now wore the dark bad expression without any conscious effort. No -one asked him where the Greek lesson was any more. He seldom had to -blow his breath in fellows' faces. And at the club he was no longer -obliged to blink and say, "How do I look this morning?" they asked of -their own accord, "Full last night, Gus?" just as some people say -"Good-morning." - -One evening, at about the beginning of the season known to some as -"bock beer time," he was in his room surrounded with a few of his own -sort, and a knock came at the door. But it was not a very loud one, so -he did not take the trouble to answer until there came a second knock, -an emphatic one. Then he emptied a lungful of cigarette-smoke and -shouted, "Come in and shut your damn racket." He looked up. - -Lawrence was framed in the door-way, Lawrence the senior, with his -'varsity sweater and his impressive air. - -On the campus Lawrence generally nodded to Thompson, when he -remembered him. Once, not long ago, he had walked up the rear stairs -of Dickinson with him and said, "What do you fellows have at this -hour?" and Gussie wondered when the clubs held their first elections. - -With his words of apology and welcome Thompson felt a wave of -satisfaction at having a gang about the table with cards and beer-mugs -on it. He was glad he had strung the champagne-corks over the -mantel-piece. - -All of the gang had arisen, and yet this was a Princeton room. If the -senior observed the unusual mark he showed little gratitude, for -without seeming to be aware of their presence he said, in his gruff -voice, "When will you be at leisure, Thompson?" and looked at his -watch. - -He was the sort of senior that could do these things, and it had the -desired effect. They all remembered that they had engagements and -picked up their caps and said, "So long, old man," and got out. This -was not done constrainedly but as a perfectly natural thing. And -Gussie beamed. - -The door slammed and the freshman said, "Have a drink, Lawrence." - -The senior said, "No, I thank you," and then contradicted himself, -"Yes, I will take a little of that." He did not approve of little boys -having whiskey in their rooms and big cut-glass decanters on their -bookcases, but he remembered something. "That's good whiskey, -Thompson." Lawrence sipped and whiffed and held his glass to the -light, "excellent whiskey." He gravely smacked his lips. "It reminds -me of some Bourbon they once gave us down in Kentucky, on the Glee -Club trip--in Louisville, I think it was. They called it Pendennis -Club." - -Thompson pushed a cigarette-case across the table. "That's Pendennis -Club," he replied, simply. "A friend of mine down there sends it to -me. I find you can't get good liquor in our part of the country. It's -all rot-gut." He twisted his pretty brows into a scowl and emptied his -small lungs of smoke aimed at the ceiling. - -"I see," said Lawrence, looking interested. - -"You know what they say about Kentucky," the freshman proceeded, "for -good whiskey, fast horses, and pretty women." - -"Yes," said Lawrence. - -The freshman refilled his guest's glass with Pendennis Club and his -own lungs with cigarette-smoke, which he allowed to seek the free air -of the room slowly, with his head tipped back and a mouth twisted -scornfully as he had once seen another devil of a fellow do it, who -said, "I don't give a damn for the girl." All of which was lost on -Lawrence, who was rubbing his chin and looking in the other direction -and wishing he had not come. - -"By the way, Thompson, speaking of horses, how did you come out -playing the races last fall? I often saw you on the train going up--" -this was a lie--"when I was slaving over football. Luck stay by you?" - -Then the freshman leaned back and said things about Futurity Stakes -and plunging at Morris Park and a lucky sixteen-to-one shot, -intermingled with a brave lot of profanity and considerable cigarette -smoke. Lawrence wore the look of a man listening, and thought up what -to say next. - -"By the way, Thompson," only it was not by the way to anything but his -own thoughts, "where's your friend Darnell? I didn't see him with the -others in here." - -"No," said the devil of a fellow, "he won't own up to it, but he's a -good bit of a poler at heart, Lawrence." - -"I did not think it of him," said Lawrence, sincerely. "He's a blame -nice fellow though, isn't he?" - -"Right. He's the best friend I have. He's pretty young and has a lot -of things to learn, but he's a mighty nice man. Awfully clever chap, -too. Wish I had his brains. I believe he comes from very nice people -in New York, doesn't he?" - -"Yes. Thompson, you are dead right in saying he's too young." - -A beam of pleasure shot across his young host's face, which was seen -by Lawrence, who now felt all right, and began to talk. - -"He's entirely too young, Thompson, and the deuce of it is that he -doesn't realize how very young he is. A fellow like that never does. -You know what I mean. And as far as I can see--I think you had the -same thing in mind a moment ago--he is about to make a fool of himself -unless he is very careful. He's entirely too nice a fellow, Thompson, -for anything like that to happen." Lawrence leaned back and put his -feet on the table. - -"You see," he continued, "Darnell tries to do things that you fellows -do, who are more mature, and he doesn't seem to realize that he is -only a boy. Now with you and me it is different. We are older and know -things and have been around a bit and-- You know what I mean. We can -do a lot of things and have a good time and be none the worse for it, -but as for Darnell, why, he's a kid, Thompson, a mere kid." - -Thompson breathed cigarettes and looked judicial. - -Lawrence moved his chair around so that he could lean an elbow on the -table. He looked at the fire through the glass of liquid in his hand. -"Thompson, I'm in a hole. A bad hole, too. I'm going to tell you -about it and maybe ask your advice. I don't mind telling you because I -know you can keep your mouth shut. I came here this evening for that -very purpose. - -"You know I know Darnell's people and all that. Well, I know his -sister quite well." That happened to be a lie. "And last commencement -when she was down here she asked me to look after her brother when he -entered in the fall." That happened to be true, though Lawrence had -forgotten it. "She's a pretty good friend of mine, and whenever I see -her"--he could not have distinguished her from the other little girls -in the school up-town--"she always asks me about her brother. And, -well, Thompson, a fellow hates to lie to a respectable woman, you -know." - -"Only a cad will lie to a decent girl," said the other, -sympathetically. - -"Certainly. Now, Thompson, I'll tell you what I think I'll do. I am -going to very frankly ask you to help me out of this hole." Lawrence -looked closely at the freshman. Then he went on, talking rapidly now -with his eyebrows tucked down and the words coming between his teeth. -Thompson had seen him do it before and had practised it in his room -alone. - -"You can do it or not, just as you please, but you are the only one -whom I'd care to ask to do it. You are the only one I'd trust with it. -In fact, you are the only one that _could_ do it. Thompson, you know -yourself that you have more influence over Darnell than any man in the -class." - -"Oh, I don't know," the freshman feebly protested. - -"Well I do. He has as much as told me so. I am going to ask you very -frankly to-- I don't know what your views are," the senior interrupted -himself, "but I believe in having all the fun in the world I can for -myself as long as I mind my own business. But I'd just as soon, when I -have the chance--" Lawrence looked down at the whiskey which he was -gently swishing around in his glass. He made his voice sound as if -embarrassed. "Well, dammit, I'm no saint, but you know it says -somewhere that saving one soul will wipe out a multitude of sins or -something of that sort." - -"God knows we have enough of them," said the devil of a fellow, who -now hurled the butt of his cigarette at the fire and arose from his -seat. He threw back his head and spoke. - -"Lawrence, you needn't say any more. I can give you my answer now." He -plunged his hands in his pockets and began striding up and down the -room and scowled as he strode. - -"Lawrence, I am a peculiar man, and I think my own thoughts and lead -my own life according to my own ideas. I keep this room here open to -everyone who desires to enter. My whiskey and tobacco is anybody's who -wants it. And as long as my guests mind their own business my room is -theirs. But when certain members of my class, certain milksops and -sanctimonious Gospel sharks come up here and tell me that I am doing -wrong and tell me what it is my duty to do, I very frankly tell them -to go to hell." He looked around the walls at the Saronys and a French -print or two as if to call them to witness, then went on: - -"Lawrence, I perceived your drift from the start, and at first, I must -confess, I was somewhat taken aback, Lawrence, by your approaching me -on such a subject." - -The one listening with a bland look of attention on his face and his -feet on the table considered this rather fresh, but said nothing. - -"But only for a moment," the freshman continued, "only for a moment, I -assure you. You talked to me like a man to a man, a real man, not a -Gospel shark or a poler, but a man who knows things and yet gives a -fellow credit for some good impulses. I appreciate your situation -exactly. I have been placed in similar ones myself. I know how it is. -And I'm glad you came up here to-night. You rushed in where angels -would not have dared, and I'm damn glad you did." He stopped walking -the floor. "Now I'm not accustomed to this sort of thing, Lawrence, as -you must know, and I won't promise much. But I give you my word, I'll -do my best for Darnell." - -Lawrence took the hand Thompson dramatically held out to him. He -restrained another impulse, an ungrateful one, and said, "Thompson, I -always thought I understood you better than your own class-mates did." -And Gussie blushed. - -The senior arose. "Gus,"--he called him Gus--"I appreciate to a nicety -the delicacy of your position in this matter. Please don't let it -inconvenience you in any way. I shall always be grateful to you for -what you have undertaken this evening, and if I can ever be of service -to you, please command me." Some of this was sincere. "I have an -engagement now. Good-night. No, I thank you, no more to-night. Come up -and see me some time, Gus. Good-night." - -"Good-night, Harry," said the other. "Wish you would drop up often." - -"I know that," thought Lawrence, as he closed the door, "only I -wouldn't say 'Harry' very often if I were you." - -Left alone, Thompson took a gulp of whiskey straight without wincing -very much, stretched out in a big chair and planned how to follow his -friend Lawrence's suggestions, wrinkling his brows and looking no -doubt very much like the man of the world that he read about as he did -so. - -Meanwhile Lawrence was saying to himself, "Still, it's all in a good -cause," and hurrying along the street with his coat-collar turned up, -like a man ashamed of himself. - -"This time next year," he was thinking, "I'll be out of college and -hustling in the big world which recent graduates are always telling me -I know nothing about. I suppose I shall have to get used to -boot-licking and getting pulls. That's business. But just at present I -don't like the taste." So he hurried up the street for a -counter-irritant, while the mood was on him. - -A few moments later he was saying, "The fact of the matter is, -Darnell, I'm in a pretty bad hole, and I think I'll ask your advice." - -"_My_ advice?" said Darnell. - -"Yes, if you do not object to giving it." - -"I think you know what I mean," said the freshman, "don't you?" - -"Yes," said Lawrence, "I know what you mean." He also knew he was -finding it a different matter talking to this freshman. - -"Well, I'll tell you about it anyway," he went on. "Last year, when -your friend Gus Thompson's sister was down here for the sophomore -reception--what?" The freshman's big eyes were making him nearly -blush. - -"Why, Gus is an only child, you know. You must mean his cousin." - -"Did I say sister? I meant cousin. His cousin, of course--she's a -smooth girl, his cousin. Well, his cousin got at me and asked me to -look after him when he entered college and see that he poled and all -that. Sort of queer thing, wasn't it? But I promised to do it, and you -know you hate to lie to a--well, I hate to deceive her about it." - -Then Lawrence went on to point out that while he, Darnell, had plenty -of fun in life, he kept up in first division at the same time, which -was the way to do, whereas that boy Thompson, who seemed rather -immature, had two conditions and was in a good way to being dropped; -and he, Darnell, had considerable influence over Thompson--oh, yes, -he had: Gus had only that evening referred to Darnell as his best -friend, and so on. But Lawrence forgot to say damn this time. - -When he finished, the freshman turned toward the senior two -fine-looking eyes filled with surprise and some other things which -caused Lawrence to feel like a hypocrite, which he was. - -"Why," replied Darnell, "of course, Lawrence. To be sure I don't know -how well I can succeed, but I'll be very glad to try it. And, -Lawrence, I think I ought to tell you that I appreciate your trusting -me in a thing of this nature, only----" - -"Oh, that's all right," said Lawrence, arising. - -"Only, Lawrence," continued the freshman, who seemed to have something -to say, "why didn't you tell me this was what you wanted long ago? I -would have been willing, I think, without your cultivating my -acquaintance so long." - -"See here," said Lawrence, with his hand on the door-knob, "to be -right honest, I never dreamed of asking you to do anything of the sort -until this very day. If I cultivated you it was for yourself and -because I like you. I never told anyone _that_ before. Good-night." - -On his way across the campus Lawrence stopped and told an innocent -old elm-tree this: "The man that first said '_Similia similibus -curantur_' was very much of a fool. I feel more like a fellow cribbing -in exams than I did before." Then he kicked the elm and shouted -"Hello-o, Billy Nolan, are you up there?" and ran up the stairs to -smoke a good-night pipe and talk about senior vacation. He felt better -in the morning. - -It was one evening about a week after this that young Thompson came -running up to Lawrence's room with a scowl on his face, and talked -like an important man in a hurry. - -"Why, he's dead easy! I'll say, 'Aw, let's get out of here, this beer -is rotten.' 'All right,' he'll say, 'let's wander over to the room.' -Minute we get there he proposes that we pole the Greek or something. -See his idea? He thinks he'll sour me on being quiet, but, ha, ha! I -fool him every time--how? Why I just sit down and pole to beat the -band until too late for him to join the gang. See? Oh, but he's easy! -I have made up my mind to keep that boy from making a fool of himself, -and when I make up my mind to a thing, I don't believe in crawling. -Besides, poling won't hurt me any." - -"Oh, no, Thompson," said Lawrence sympathetically. "I don't see how it -can hurt you." - -Darnell came in a little later and sat down in the very same chair and -had this to say: "Lawrence, Gus Thompson is a queer fellow. You know -he doesn't go with the crowd any more, and because _he_ is sour and -doesn't care to have any good times, he tries to interfere with my -enjoyment too. He's always proposing that we stay in the rooms--you -know we room together now. I thought I could look after him better in -that way-- Well, when he kicks on poling I start to join the gang, and -then he says 'All right, let's pole.' He must be jealous about me. But -that's the way I work him. He's so easy." - -"Yes," said Lawrence, "lots of people are." - - - - -THE SCRUB QUARTER-BACK - - -Tommy Wormsey was a meek little boy with an ugly face, mostly covered -with court-plaster, and he would rather fall on a football than eat. - -When he came trotting out upon the field, the college along the side -lines always smiled at the way he tipped his head to one side with his -eyes on the ground, as though he was ashamed of himself and of his funny -little bumpy body, stuck into a torn suit and stockings which weren't -mates and had holes in them. When he skimmed over the ground and dived -through the air and brought down a two-hundred-and-something-pound -guard, with his knotty little arms barely reaching about the big -thighs, it looked very absurd, and when he jumped up again, yelling -"3--9--64" in his shrill earnest voice, and ran sniffling back to his -place, with his sorrowful face seeming to say, "I know I oughtn't to -have let him slide so far, but please don't scold me this time," the -crowd laughed uproariously, which hurt his feelings. - -But he paid very little attention to anything except the scrub -captain's orders and the admonitions of the coachers, to whom he said, -"Yes, sir," and "I'll try it that way, sir." He was afraid of them, -and looked down at his torn stockings when they spoke to him. Those of -the crowd along the ropes who knew everything, as well as the other -spectators who only knew a few things, said that Freshman Wormsey had -more sand and football instinct than any man on the field. But they -did not know what a coward he was at heart. - -More than once when a 'varsity guard had broken through and jumped on -him, and the scrub halves had fallen on him from the other direction -to keep him from being shoved back, and the other 'varsity guard and -the centre, who were not light, had thrown themselves upon these, and -one of the ends had swung round and jumped on the top of the pile on -general principles, Wormsey, at the bottom, said "ouch!" under his -breath, if he had any. He weighed 137 pounds stripped. - -At night, after the trick practice with checkers at the Athletic Club, -he always hurried back to his room, and stacked the pillows and sofa -cushions up in the corner of the room, with the black one in the -centre, and taking his place on one knee in the opposite corner, -socked the ball into the pile. Every time he missed the black one in -the centre he called himself names. - -Sometimes when he did this he became excited, and sprang forward and -knocked down chairs and tables and things. But he paid no attention to -that. He only bit his nails and fell to passing again, and kept it up -sometimes until eleven o'clock, which was a whole hour later than he -had any business to be out of bed. - -But there were days when it became tiresome, this constant pound, -pound, pound, fall down, get up and pound again, and once in a while -there came dark times when he felt that it all didn't pay, which was -very unpatriotic thinking; and the next day, when the crowd yelled, -"Well tackled, Wormsey!" he wondered how he could have been such a -mucker as to think it. But it was rather hard work for a -seventeen-year-old boy whose bones weren't knit to play two -thirty-minute halves every day as hard as they were doing now, and -then practise place kicks and catching punts afterward, besides -keeping hold of all the signals and systems and stuff that were -drummed into his little head every evening, along with the rest of the -second eleven, in the room across the hall from the one where the -'varsity were learning their systems and signals and tricks. - -It's all well enough for them. They have their 'varsity sweaters with -the big P on them, and have their pictures printed in the papers, and -are pointed out and praised and petted and fondled and fussed over -like blue-ribboned hunters at the horse show; but for the poor, -faithful, unappreciated scrub it's a different story. There's none of -the glory, and all work and grind and strain at the top notch of -capacity. And nothing at the end of it but thanks and the -consciousness of doing one's duty by the college. So about this time, -when they were approaching that critical stage in training which is -like getting one's second wind in a cross-country run, he used to have -some terrible times with himself. If anyone knew what muckerishly -cowardly thoughts he had, he was afraid they'd fire him from college. - -He was ashamed of himself, but he couldn't help it. He was getting -sick of training, sick of getting up at seven o'clock in the morning -and hurrying down to breakfast while the alarm clocks were going off -in East and West colleges, and the frost was still on the grass. Every -day, as soon as the morning recitations were over, no matter what kind -of weather, he must jump into the 'bus at the corner of Dickinson -Hall, drive down to the grounds, undress and dress again, and hobble -out upon the field, and get his poor little body bumped and pounded -and kicked and trampled on, and the rest of his personality yelled at -by the captain, and scolded by the coachers, who stand alongside in -nicely creased trousers, with canes in their hands, and call out, -"Line up more quickly, scrub," which is hard to do when one's lungs -are breathless, especially when one is a quarter-back, and needs a -certain amount of wind to scream out the signals in a loud enough tone -to keep from being sworn at. And that's the way they make football -stuff. - -To-day he let Hartshorn drag him five yards and missed one tackle -outright, and he was discouraged. After the line-up, while they were -practising him at catching punts, he seemed to have such bad luck -holding the ball; and once, in trying for a wild one when he had run -over by the cinder track, grunting and straining, and had put up his -little arms, only to feel the ball bounce off his chest, he gnashed -his teeth so loud and said "Oh, dear!" in such a plaintive whimper, -like a child waking from a bad dream, that two pipe-smoking seniors, -who were trooping out in the rear of the crowd, smiled audibly and -said something about him. He could not hear what it was. He only -heard them laugh, and it nearly broke his heart. But all that he could -do was to call them things under his breath, and run sniffling back to -his place again. - -The trouble with the boy was he had worked so hard and worried so much -that he was over-trained, and so, naturally, there was not much ginger -left in him. And the reason the keen-eyed trainer did not see this and -lay him off for a few days was that Wormsey thought it his duty to -make up in nerve what he lacked in ginger; and he was too bashful to -tell anyone how difficult it was to make himself play hard, and how -that he no longer felt springy when he jumped out of bed in the -morning, and that he slept all the afternoon after practice, instead -of studying, as all football men should. - -He went into the field-house the next day, unbuttoning his coat and -hating football. He hated the ill-smelling dressing-room. He was sick -of training, sick of rare beef and Bass's ale and bandages and -rub-downs, and the captain's admonitions and the coacher's scoldings. -He thought he would give anything not to be obliged to play that day. -He was sore all over, and his ear would be torn open again, and he -didn't like having the blood trickle down his neck; it felt so -sticky. - -It was a hot, lazy, Indian-summer day; and his muscles felt exhausted. -He felt as much like exerting them as one feels like studying in -spring term directly after dinner, when the seniors are singing on the -steps. As he came hobbling out of the field-house he laced his little -jacket, and made up his mind that after the practice he would tell the -captain that he could not spare the time from his studies to play -football, patriotism or no patriotism. This was not necessary, because -he was tumbled over in the opening play, and remained upon the ground -even after the captain cried "Line up quickly," with his ugly little -face doubled up in a knot. - -"There goes another back," said the scrub captain, pettishly, snapping -his fingers. "Rice, you play quarter; and Richardson, you come play -half in Rice's place." - -Another sub and William, the negro rubber, picked Wormsey up, the -doctor following behind, and turning back to see the play, which had -already begun again, for he wanted to see how the new system was -working. - -As they approached the field-house he saw the two fellows who had -laughed at him the day before standing apart down at the end of the -field. One of them was tapping his pipe against the heel of his shoe, -and saying, "I didn't know that that little devil could be hurt. He -always--" But just then the 'varsity full-back made a long "twister" -punt, and he interrupted himself with an exclamation about that. It -sounded like a reproach to Wormsey, and he began to feel that he had -somehow gotten hurt with malice aforethought. And this made him so -ashamed that when they reached the field-house the trainer, sponging -his face, said, encouragingly: "That's all right, me boy. Don't feel -badly. You'll be out again in a couple of weeks. I've been meaning to -lay you off for a while, anyway. I'll tell you for why; you're a -little stale, Tommy, a little stale." - -Every day now Wormsey trudged down to the field on crutches--they had -to be sawed off at the bottom first--and watched the practice from a -pile of blankets on the side-lines. It was a fine thing, he told -himself, to watch the others do all the work while he sat still with -four 'varsity sweaters tied about his neck. This was a great snap; he -was still on the scrub, was at the training table, and would have his -picture taken, would go to the Thanksgiving game free, and yet did not -have to get pounded and pummelled. - -He was made a good deal of now. The coachers patted him on the back -and said "My boy" to him. He had a lot of sympathetic adulation from -admiring classmates. Upper-classmen whom he had never seen before, but -who somehow knew him, came up and said, "How's the leg, Tommy?" At -which he hung his head and sniffled, and said, "Getting along pretty -well, thank you," and then grinned, because he didn't know whether -they were guying him or not. - -In a few days he could walk with a cane, and he put on his football -clothes because they were more comfortable. He limped after the teams -up and down the field, and squatted down to see how the 'varsity made -their openings, and he learned how to tell, by the expression of his -legs, on which side the quarter was going to pass the ball, which -nobody else in the world could tell. Also, by carelessly daily -sauntering into the cage during the preliminary practising, with a -guileless smile on his face, he found out the 'varsity signals, which -he had no business to find out. - -Sometimes he became very much excited during the scrimmages, and once, -when Dandridge, the wriggly 'varsity half-back, kept on squirming and -gaining after he had been twice downed, Wormsey screamed, as he hopped -up and down on one foot, "Oh, grab--grab him! _Please_ grab him! Oh! -oh!" so loud that all the field heard it and laughed at him. Then he -realized what a fool he had made of himself and kicked himself with -his good leg, and limped slowly up the field to study the next play. - -But conceited as it was, he really thought that he would have stopped -that runner if he had been there. He imagined just how it would feel -to have once more the thrill of a clean tackle, sailing through the -air, and locking his arms tight, and squeezing hard, and both rolling -over and over, while the crowd yelled in the distance. And he thought -it would be fine to get out there again, and run his hands through his -hair, and call out the signals, and plunge the ball home into the -back's stomach, and then pitch forward, and push and strain and sweat -and fall down and get up again. He had a firm healthy skin now, and -had gone up to the tremendous weight of 138½, which was vulgar -obesity. - -One windy sunny day when Wormsey was limping friskily up and down the -field with his hair blowing about, Stump, the 'varsity quarter, -instead of springing up to his place after one of the tandem plays, as -he should have done, lay still on the ground, while the college held -its breath. - -"It's Stump! it's Stump!" they whispered to one another with scared -faces. Then they no longer held their breaths. They moaned, and -stamped their heels into the frosty ground, and gazed out sadly toward -the dear, frowzy head of the man who was being carried to the -field-house. - -"It's only a wrench," said the doctor. "He'll be out in a few days." - -The captain's mouth grew a little more stern, but he only snapped his -fingers, and said: "Bristol! No, he's laid off too. Wait a moment, -doctor," he called out. "Is Wormsey well enough to play?" - -"Wormsey?" said Tommy to himself in little gasps. "Why, I'm Wormsey. -What! play with the 'varsity!" - -And the doctor's voice came back through the wind, "No, I think not." - -"Oh, yes, I am!" yelled the shrill voice, which was heard all up and -down both sides of the field, and reached to the Athletic Club; and -throwing away his cane, and bending over to let some one pull off two -sweaters, Wormsey ran sniffling out on the field. - -"See, Jack," he called to the trainer. "I don't limp a bit." But he -kept his face turned to one side so that the trainer couldn't see it -twitch. - -"Come here and I'll give you the signals, Wormsey," said the captain. - -"I know them already," said Wormsey, looking ashamed of himself; and -he took his place on one knee behind the centre who had so often -tumbled upon him. - -Then he jumped in and showed everybody what he had been learning -during the past ten days. He was in perfect condition now, except for -the ankle, which he forgot about. He was quite accurate in his quick -method of passing, and he tackled ravenously. Fellows like Wormsey -never get soft. "Just watch that boy follow the ball," exclaimed one -of the coachers to another. "Too bad he's so light," said the other. - -Once when the scrub had the ball they gave the signal for a trick -which they had been saving up as a surprise for the 'varsity. Tommy -knew that signal. He dashed through the line between tackle and end, -he caught the long pass on the fly, and having plenty of wind and a -clear field, he made a touch-down unassisted, which made the crowd -yell and applaud. Of course it was a great fluke, and Wormsey knew -that, but all the same, while the crowd gave a cheer for Tommy -Wormsey, and a three-times-three for "the little devil," he grinned -for a moment, and puckered up his eyes. But it is not the crowd that -chooses the team. - -That evening at dinner all the college was talking about the great -tear the little freshman had made, and down at the Athletic Club -Wormsey overheard one of the coachers say: "When Stump comes out -again, it'll make him work to see the freshman putting up a game like -that. But of course he can't keep it up. The pace is too fast." - -Wormsey bit his nails and had his own opinion about that. But whatever -it might have been was never learned, because the next day he was -taken off the field for the season. His bad ankle was sprained in the -first half, which served him right for disobeying the doctor's order. -But he should not have cared. Didn't he play one whole day on the -'varsity? - - - - -WHEN GIRLS COME TO PRINCETON - - -If you would like to see a college campus as it really is, with -students walking along with the gait and the manner and the clothes -they usually wear, and to hear the old bell ring, the hall and -dormitory stairs rattle, the entries echo and the feet scrape along -the stone walks as on ordinary occasions, and see the quadrangle -become crowded and noisy, then suddenly empty and quiet again, and if -you wish to have a view of your brother's room in its average state of -order and ornamentation, do not come to Princeton for one of the class -dances, or on the day of a big game, when everyone is excited and well -dressed, and even the old elms are in an abnormal flutter, but come -down in a small party some quiet day in an ordinary week, when there -are no extra cars on the small informal train which jolts up from the -junction. Tell your brother that you are coming, or his roommate, who -will gladly cut a lecture or two and show you about the campus. Then -you may see the college world in its normal state, and the -undergraduate in his characteristic settings--any number of him with a -pipe in his mouth or a song, slouching across the campus with the -Princeton gait, wearing something disreputable upon his head, -corduroys and sweaters or flannels and cheviots upon his body, and an -air of ownership combined with irresponsibility all over. In short, if -you prefer to get some idea of college life, and learn, as far as a -girl can, why college days are the best of a lifetime, visit Princeton -on some day that is not a special occasion. But very likely this is -not what you prefer. - -Most girls would rather hurry down with a big trunk in a crowded -special train, and go to four teas, meet a score of men apiece whom -they will never see again, dance all night, and then, in a few -minutes, arise looking as fresh as they did on Easter Sunday, and -smile good-byes at the depot to the breakfastless young men whom they -leave forsaken and sleepy to try to go on where they left off, while -they themselves hurry back to town, and to another dance the next -night. - -A college dance is generally considered very good fun. There is an -adventurous zest in journeying to a college, and exploring it, and -meeting crowds of people you never saw before, and there is something -wild and reckless in being quartered in an odd little boarding-house, -or, more delicious still, in some room in University Hall borrowed by -your entertainer for the occasion, with the owner's photographs and -souvenirs hanging about just as he left them. Then, too, the young men -themselves, some of whom you have met or heard of before, try to be -very agreeable, and do everything in their power to make you have a -good time, if for no other reason, in order that you may see how -superior their college is to any other, so that even several-seasoned -society girls consider it worth their while to run down to a college -dance, and be amused by these fresh-faced young fellows. Some of them -have been coming off and on for several generations of college men, -and could talk interestingly of your brother in the class of '88 -should they be so inclined. They know all about these hops. This is -written for you who have yet to attend one. - -There are three regular dances each year, and they are given by the -three upper classes. One takes place at the close of the mid-year -examinations, to usher in the new term. Another is given at a more -beautiful time of the year, usually occurring on the eve of some great -baseball game. The third one, the most splendid and most jammed, is -the sophomores' reception, given on the night before Commencement to -the class which graduates the following day. - -Each class has a dance committee, who fly around and work hard to make -their dance finer than the last one, and generally succeed. They -procure a fine patroness list to engrave on their invitations, -containing several of the sort of names that appear in connection with -Patriarchs' balls and Philadelphia assemblies, together with those of -two or three professors' wives, to lend a tone. The committee get hold -of the Gymnasium, pull down the bars and draw the trapeze to one side; -then have a lot of pink and white cheese-cloth tacked up, hang some -athletic trophies over the rafters, string a few hundred incandescent -lights here and there, and send to one of the neighboring cities for a -smart caterer and a large high-priced orchestra to come for the night. -Then they are ready for you. - -Before the dance, however, you are taken to a few teas which are given -by some of the clubs. You saw the club-houses when you were shown -about earlier in the day. Some of them are very handsome, and they are -all nice, and the nicest is the one to which your brother belongs, or -whoever owns the club-pin you carry home with you. At the teas the -rooms are crowded, the air is hot, the flowers are tumbled over, you -become hoarse, and in most features it is similar to any tea, except -that there are enough men. You will here meet several of those whose -names you have on your dance-card, and you may make up your mind -whether to remember that fact or not. - -After the round of teas there remain but two hours in which to dress. -When you have hurried on those things which make up "a dream," "a -creation," or "a symphony," whichever it is that you bring, and have -had, if you feel like it, a bit of dinner, you are taken, at a little -after eight o'clock, to church. The Glee, Banjo, and Mandolin clubs -give a very good concert here, and it is a good place to have your -escort point out the various men who are fortunate enough to be on -your card, and gives you a good opportunity to notice the taste -displayed by other girls in their costumes, and feel pleased with your -own. There are all sorts of gowns, made of many sorts of materials -with interesting names. - -When the concert is at last over--much as you enjoyed it, it seemed -rather long to you, who were thinking of what was to follow--you are -taken to University Hall, which is across the street, or to the -Gymnasium, if the dance is to be there, which is a little farther back -on the campus, and you are shown to the dressing-room, where those -last fluttering finishing touches are put on. Those calm, -assured-looking young women who came in ahead of you are a little -excited too, as is that laughing girl who was pointed out to you as a -flirt. - -When you are quite ready, and are pulling and smoothing your gloves -while waiting for the chaperon to start your party, you catch a -glimpse of something, as the door opens for an instant, which extends -from the door all along the dimly lighted passage to the very stairs -beyond--something which looks like a great black bank with gleaming -white patches here and there. This is made up of young men, whose -collars are stiff and straight. When your chaperon stalks forth with a -sort of flourish, several members of the black and white bank come -forward to meet your party, and the rest make inaudible comments upon -your appearance, probably to the effect that you are "smooth." But all -that you are sure of is that your escort offers you his arm with a -smile and a stiff bow, that you walk nervously up the winding stairs, -step into a dazzle of light, where members of the dance committee are -running hither and thither with dance-cards and girls, and where -patronesses are smiling, bowing, looking stately, holding their fans, -and doing whatever patronesses usually do. Then the orchestra plays a -promenade, to which a few impatient couples try to waltz, and you -begin what you have talked about and thought about and dreamed about -for a month. - -You notice when you have danced the first one with your brother's -roommate, at whose special invitation you came, that as soon as he has -taken you to your seat he rushes off like mad. In a moment he comes -back again, bearing with him the young man who was pointed out to you -at the concert as being down on your card for No. 2. While he is being -presented, still another anxious-eyed man runs up and hurriedly -snatches off your host. These are men who are "running" girls' cards. - -Now, while you and your new acquaintance are waiting for the music to -begin, and are amiably agreeing that the concert was good, that the -room is warm, that the light effects are pretty, you may steal another -glance at your dance-card to make sure of this man's name. It is -carefully written in ink on the pretty silk-and-leather-bound card -which was handed to you on the way to the concert. All the numbers -are filled and three extras. This is the way it was done: - -About three weeks ago a young man was sitting in the grand stand one -sunny afternoon watching the baseball practice, and wondering whether -the nine would beat Harvard, when one of his clubmates came along and -asked him for a match. He complied with the request, and said, "Don't -mention it." Then the borrower of the match asked if he were going to -the dance, and as he admitted his intention of doing so, he was handed -a preliminary card which had your name at the top of it. Then, after a -little more conversation, he put his name down for No. 2, and handed -it back to your host, who thanked him. And again he said, "Don't -mention it." That was the man who is about to dance with you. At that -time you were unknown to him. The other names were secured in various -ways. In the midst of a lecture your card was passed along to some -fellow on the end of the row, who, with the same pencil with which he -was taking notes on "Post-Kantian Philosophy," secured for himself a -_deux-temps_ with you. Other men were hailed out in front of Old North -when the seniors were singing, or at the club dinner tables, and in -the lounging-rooms when they were talking baseball, or when they were -at the billiard table and had to walk across the room to where their -coats were hanging to see their cards. Perhaps your host took a night -off to it, and went out on the campus and yelled "Hello, Billy -Wilson!" under Billy Wilson's window to see if he were in before he -ran up the stairs to his room and demanded to see his dance-card; and -went on thus from entry to entry as if he were out after -subscriptions, except that he went to his friends. Sometimes it is not -an easy task to fill five or six cards, especially when every one is -feeling rather down-hearted over an unfortunate athletic season. Of -course if the girl has been down before, and is well known and -popular, there is no difficulty of this kind. Probably the next time -you come down you won't need a card. - -Except for the five dances which he saves out for himself you see very -little of your host during the evening, and even then he seems worried -and absent-minded. It no doubt piques you a little that the moment the -music ceases he leaves you, and, with an expression on his face which -reminds you of when "Pigs in Clover" was the rage, darts across the -room, bumping into people and begging pardons. The only time he looks -comfortable and recalls to your mind last Christmas holidays is when -he and you have slipped off to one of those quiet little nooks so -bounteously adorned with rugs and hangings, brought for the occasion -from some dormitory room, to enjoy two little bits of ice which he has -pillaged from the supper-room. Then for a while he seems to forget his -cares, and you two have a good old-fashioned chat. You notice a streak -of chicken-salad along his silken collar, but that gives you no -adequate idea of the muscle and bad language required to secure and -bear away those two little dabs of ice and one napkin, any more than -his anxious expression indicates the amount of patience and ubiquity -required to "run" three girls' cards at a college dance. - -All this time you have been going through the several different stages -of "a perfectly lovely time." You have shown a lot of young men how -well you can dance, and have gotten along very well with all you have -met except that once when you asked sweetly, sympathetically, "Won't -you be just too glad to be a sophomore next year?" of a very studious -and diminutive member of the graduating class. The chat is no longer -about the concert, nor is the heat mentioned, though it is terrific, -nor the effect of the lights upon the pink and white cheese-cloth, -except by those gallants who see fit to say something about its being -becoming to certain complexions. And, most gratifying of all, you -notice that those who have your name on their cards more than once -come the second time without being brought. Indeed, some come again -who have not that good fortune, and you pay slight attention to your -card after supper, but dance with those who come up and beg for a -dance, because you are tender-hearted and hate to displease them. It -is a good plan to lose your card now or hide it. Some girls tear up -theirs the moment they come, for fear they might make a mistake, and -consequently hurt somebody's feelings. - -By this time you have gotten your second wind, if you'll pardon the -expression. You talk without previously meditating upon what you are -about to say; but you know it's all right just as you drift to the -strains of the music automatically. Your eyes are wide open and -sparkling; your cheeks have a flush which is becoming; you are dimly -conscious that your visit at Princeton is a success. And just as you -are beginning to wish that all this could last forever you hear a -strain of music of which every daughter of a loving home should be -fond, and then, for the first time, you notice that the stately -patronesses in their bower are opening their eyes very wide and -gritting their teeth very hard. Then, having danced that last one -furiously, you are dragged off, casting a lingering glance at faded -flowers, wilted collars, tired musicians, torn skirts. - -When you come from the noisy, laughing dressing-room a moment later, -wrapped from head to foot in a great long thing which covers any -changes the five hours' exercise might have wrought in your -appearance, you are met by your bedraggled escort under the light, -where you took his arm before, long ago, on the way to the dance. You -can remember how stiff his collar was then and how smooth his hair. -Everything, animate and inanimate, looks different now, especially -with that ghastly streak of dawn which mingles with the electric -light. It makes some of the girls look rather faded and jaded, you -think, and some of the men rather rakish, but not even the girls seem -to care very much. Every one is too excited to be tired, and too merry -to be formal. All the stiffness of your escort's manner has gone with -that of his collar. As he offers his arm this time he does not gaze -straight ahead of him and murmur something incoherent about hoping -that you are going to enjoy this, for he begins singing "It's all over -now," to the dank and misty campus trees on the way to University -Hall, and you give him permission to smoke a cigarette, and shout -good-night down the stairs, and tell him what time to call around in -the morning--later on in the morning--for he has made you promise to -stay over all of the following day and see a little of the college and -campus, and take a stroll in the queer old town. - -Then, as the gray dawn creeps in through the dotted Swiss curtains -which somebody made for the freshman who owns the room, causing the -roses on the bureau to look pale and livid, and while the far-away -voices of the dance committee can be heard from back of Witherspoon, -where they are having an informal game of baseball in their evening -clothes to celebrate the success of their efforts, and the sparrows -outside your window begin to twitter as though there had been no -dance, you lay your head upon the pillow and tell your roommate what -the tall one said who danced the two-step so divinely, and what that -funny little fellow with frowsy hair told you, and what were the -remarks of the football man with whom you sat out two dances, and how -the entertaining man who sang the solo at the concert seemed to like -you, and what your brother's roommate told you not to tell. - - - - -THE LITTLE TUTOR - - -At first they thought he was one of the new students, he was such a -little fellow and had such a smooth, boyish face. And one of the -college men had stopped him on the street, and, in a manner that -seemed to indicate that he had some particular reason for desiring the -information, asked him abruptly: "What class do you belong to?" - -The little tutor had looked up timidly through his large spectacles -and answered, in his thin, high voice: "I am not a member of any of -the classes. I am to be one of the instructors in the academy." - -He had smiled reassuringly, to show that he did not take any offence. -But the tall young man did not seem to dream of embarrassment; he only -said: "You _are_?" and passed on. - -This happened early in September, the day before the term opened, and -the little tutor had been busying himself looking about the campus and -getting his bearings in the little city. He had never been in the West -before, and this seemed very far out West; it was like a foreign -country to him. The broad, evenly laid, well-kept streets lined with -so many fine lawns, were a matter of great interest and speculation. -He thought it queer that when a man could afford to have nearly a -whole block of lawn that he should have only a frame house upon it, -but some of these frame houses were very large and comfortable and -invariably freshly painted, and he liked that. He admired the new and -handsome business blocks of fine brick and stone. But what seemed most -wonderful to him was the broad, level sweep of the prairie when he -walked out into the country. It almost took his breath away. - -But it was the campus, as being his future place of work, that -occupied most of his attention and curiosity. He walked slowly over it -all, examining each building and every feature thoughtfully and with a -critical air as one about to buy. There were only about a half-dozen -buildings in all, including both the college and academy. It struck -him as odd that both institutions should be on the same grounds and -apparently of the same importance. The buildings were rather new, and -he missed the dignified, patriarchal aspect of the old campus he had -been accustomed to. He thought he could never feel any veneration for -all this brand-newness as he had toward those old landmarks he loved -so well. Indeed, it all seemed small and puny viewed in this light, -and he walked about with rather a patronizing air, as he thought with -pride of his Alma Mater, and it seemed to him that this institution -was favored in obtaining for an instructor a graduate of such a famous -old institution--and an honorman, too, he said to himself, with a -blush of satisfaction. - -Of course, this preparatory school teaching was only temporary with -him. Only a preparation for something else, and that but a step to -something higher, until he became--but the little tutor never -acknowledged just how high his ambition aimed. It was at this point, -as he was leaning against a tree, that the young man had come up and -asked him what class he belonged to. - -But he had not minded that in the least; he knew how boyish-looking he -was. It was very natural for them to make such mistakes. A little -thing like that would not discourage him. They did not know him; wait -a few days, and they would learn who he was. - -And he was right. The whole college and academy learned who he was the -very next afternoon in chapel. And even the townsfolk soon learned to -know him by sight; they thought it odd that such a little fellow -should be a professor. By the end of the month the children coming -home from school had learned to point out his small figure with the -large head, carried with his peculiar, springing strides, and they -would say to one another, "There goes the Little Tutor." - -But as they watched him walking briskly by, holding his body stiff and -straight, they little knew what was going on behind that smile, which -was a curious mixture of gravity and good nature. - -For some reason or other things had not gone as he had expected, and -so far, at least, they were not tending toward the future he had -pictured. - -He had thought that out there they would appreciate that he came from -such a large, famous old institution, and that he had stood so well in -his class and all that; but neither the attitude of the faculty, -college, nor academy indicated anything of the kind, he thought. And -this wasn't all. No one seemed to take any interest in him as an -individual. That is, beyond a cold curiosity. - -He did not see why no one took the initiative and made friends with -him; he could not, being a new-comer. He knew he had never been very -popular at college, but he had a few good friends, and nearly every -one of his classmates was kind to him. As he looked back on those dear -old days, midst those dear old influences, his present surroundings -seemed cold, very cold. - -And he could not explain this coldness. Surely it could not all be on -account of that first mistake. Oh, that terrible first day in chapel. -He thought he would never forget it. He remembered sitting up there on -the platform, before all the college and academy--for out there the -whole faculty come to chapel, and they sit in a semicircle behind the -President. He was conscious of many eyes being upon him, and he knew -what they were thinking and whispering to each other, "Is that the new -tutor?" "What a kid!" And, indeed, as he cast his eyes furtively over -the faces before him he discovered even among the preps. many a -raw-boned countryman who was his senior in years, and this thought had -so rattled him that he took off his glasses--those large owl-eyed -things--and began wiping them, as he always did when embarrassed, and -then he suddenly reminded himself that this always made him appear -more youthful, and so he clapped them on again. He had not felt this -peculiar lonely out-of-it feeling for a good many years; no, not since -beginning of freshman year, at his first eating club. - -But what was that? He had heard his name pronounced. Surely he was not -going to be called upon to lead in prayer. Then the whole sentence -re-echoed in his confused brain, the distinct clear-cut words of the -President, "Horatio B. Stacy, A.B., will be Professor Wilkin's -assistant in the academy." If any of the bold, searching eyes had for -a moment wandered from him, he knew they had returned again now. He -remembered wondering if he jumped enough for them to see him. He -remembered how the steam-heater rattled and pounded in the little -chapel and the odor of the new paint, as the young President went on -with his perfectly enunciated words in his clear and cold voice: "He -comes highly recommended from a good Eastern college. I trust he will -prove satisfactory. Let us sing number three hundred and sixteenth." -The President pronounced sixteenth perfectly. And the organ burst -forth with a loud, cruel prelude, and the hymn was sung. The little -tutor always remembered number three hundred and sixteen, one bar of -which always seemed to sing "satisfactory." - -When the long hymn was finished, the President, having pronounced the -benediction, stepped down from the platform and started down the -centre aisle, followed by an old white-headed professor, and he by the -professor on his left. The little tutor sat next, and so, innocently -enough, he started down behind them. How was he to know that there was -a custom to be observed in this trooping out of chapel, that the order -was determined by precedence? Ah, it made him flush when he thought of -it, even now. He could remember just how the whole college and academy -laughed--they did not titter, but laughed outright--and when he -realized the position and hesitated, trembling, half-way down the -aisle, and tried to smile, some of them fairly shouted. He could even -now see, in his mind, the face of one of the college men next to the -aisle as he leaned back and laughed merrily, cruelly, looking squarely -into the little tutor's eyes without pretending to control his mirth. -The little tutor never remembered how he gained the cool of the -outside. - -But why was he to be blamed? They should have told him. How was he to -know that there was any rule about the matter? At his college the -professors never attended chapel; that is, except two or three, who -sat in the stalls. - -The next morning, with some fear and much hope, he had met his first -class. Perhaps his hand shook a little as he held the roll while his -pupils came into the room, and his voice trembled, perhaps, as he -addressed the class, and he couldn't help blushing--his old -failing--when he heard the laugh caused by his mispronouncing a queer -name; but he told himself that he had gotten along splendidly when the -long day was over, and the future seemed bright once more as he -planned his work. - -He thought out just what his attitude toward his pupils would be. He -was determined that he would not lord it over them, but would win -their confidence, become friends with them, get to know them all -personally, and invite them around to his rooms some time, perhaps. He -even determined upon his policy of discipline, if that should become -necessary. He would not, he thought, be sarcastic with them, as one of -his professors at college used to; no, because that, he deemed, was -taking a mean advantage of the student, who could not, by reason of -the relations of master and pupil, answer back; the master had it all -on his side. Neither did he think he would affect the indignant -attitude; no, because--well, he remembered the fellows' laugh at him -when he once tried to be indignant. He would assume a dignified -disregard, as the dean used to. That was the best method of -maintaining order and attention in a class-room. That would best -become Horatio B. Stacy, A.B. He fell asleep that night wondering what -his pupils would give him for a nickname. - -Now, as the week went by he never had been obliged to exercise his -authority. The classes all paid very good attention, better than he -had hoped for. But how very different this thing teaching was from -what he had supposed! - -The little tutor had been there almost a month; he had walked all -around the town and about the country; had faithfully attended all his -classes, and sometimes he had six hours a day; had gone to chapel -every evening at five; had sat, stared at, in the semicircle behind -the President, and had trooped out again with his odd gait, and always -the _last_ one in the procession now. But he had not a single friend -in the State, unless it was his landlady with the false hair front. - -He remembered thinking at college that the attitude of those dear old -professors was rather distant. But that dignified conservatism was -nothing like this unconcern, this icy indifference, manifested by -these professors and assistants; and he was one of their number -remember, too. - -He smiled grimly as he recollected how that, when he first came, he -had rather expected that some of them might invite him to dine. This -he deemed would be proper in view of his position as an assistant, -especially as this institution was so small that the faculty was not -large enough to be divided into many cliques. And he had even pictured -himself enjoying a delightful conversation with that old, white-haired -professor whom he had taken such a fancy to, or, perhaps, holding an -animated discussion with some of them as to the respective merits of -Western and Eastern colleges. - -But he could have endured their attitude if only his plans would work -in regard to his classes. It was about his pupils that he thought the -most. He made a study of each man and each mind and learned what to -expect from each: which were good at one kind of work and which at -another; which were the bright, indolent fellows and which were the -plodders. They nearly all worked quite hard, that was the one -encouraging thing. But he could not understand them. The little tutor -had never been to a preparatory school himself, but he felt certain -that these fellows were not like most preps. He certainly could not -understand their attitude toward himself. He wanted to be friendly -with them all, and tried to laugh and joke occasionally to make the -relations easy, but it was of no use, they only looked at him -inquiringly, as if he were doing something they hadn't bargained for. -They all came to recitation in a business-like way, which seemed to -say, "Here we are, now you teach us." - -They never thought of bowing to him as they came in. They seemed to -regard him only as an automaton that was paid--and by _their_ -money--to stand up there and teach, and he would not have believed -that he was thought of by them outside, that he entered into their -existence at all, if he had not one day come into the room with rubber -over-shoes on his feet and heard them say something about the "Little -Tutor." That was the time he learned his nickname, and he felt rather -glad when he heard them say it, though they were somewhat confused -when they turned and saw him. - -When recitations were over, when they had gotten their money's worth, -they returned to their lodgings in the same brisk business-like -manner, for dormitories are scarce out there. The little tutor thought -perhaps this had something to do with the lack of college feeling in -the institution. There was no _esprit de corps_. They were, the whole -collection of them, college and academy, simply a lot of young men who -came together in one place, paid their money and got an education by -which they would earn more than enough to repay them. So you see it -was a good bargain. Perhaps this was putting it too strongly, he -reminded himself, for there was some feeble exhibition of class spirit -once or twice, and a football team, too, that practised after supper -in their shirt-sleeves. But, oh! how he longed for a sight of those -old familiar figures he used to see slouching carelessly across the -campus in corduroys and sweaters, with pipes and songs and all that -easy good friendship, and the practising at the 'varsity grounds. But -these are bitter thoughts. - -He hoped that these pupils of his would not always wear linen shirts. -He wished their vests were not cut so low. He longed for a sight of a -familiar cheviot shirt and a carelessly tied bow at the neck. He would -have given a good deal, he thought, just to see one man walking by -with a sweater tied by the arms about his neck, a dirty sweater -perhaps, and his hands deep down in his pockets. Sometimes he felt -that he would enjoy, yes, actually, hearing somebody flunk in one of -his classes. Who would have thought that of little poler Stacy? - -You see the boy was almost hysterical with this morbid homesickness. -He was brim full of it, and a very slight jar would have been enough -to upset him and spill it all. - -Sometimes he realized that he was making a fool of himself and then he -used to take himself in hand for being so childish. But he had always -had these little boyish ways of thinking about the people and things -around him. He remembered how it was at college; when he first came as -a freshman his poor little brain was nearly worn out with wondering -and imagining, and when he fell to thinking of those days long ago, it -seemed impossible to him that he was a grown man now and teaching in -an academy. But it was true, and the framed diploma hung in his room. -And, what was more to the point, he was making money. He had felt -encouraged when he received his first earnings. - -On a Saturday evening he had called around at the treasurer's office -and received his money, carefully counted and put in an envelope with -a blue lining. The treasurer was an old man with a hard face, and when -the little tutor came in he did not say "How do you do," or anything, -but simply turned toward the safe and took out the money, keeping the -pen in his teeth as he did so, and only taking it out to ask, as he -looked up at the little tutor, "That is right," in an exact tone, "is -it not?" - -He hated this proceeding, and hoped that next time there would not be -the right amount, so that he might have a cheque. But he felt -light-hearted when he carried the money to his room and wrote his -letter home and enclosed a certain share of his profits. Prospects -seemed brighter and his hopes ran high, and his dreams ran away out -into the future when all his drudgery would be over and he would be -recognized as a great man, an authority on--but somehow it was hard to -hold those old aspirations that had seemed so realizable about -commencement time, when he was an honor man. This cold western climate -and these common-sense practical New Englanders seemed to have a -chilling effect upon his ambitions, especially as his self-confidence -was never very firmly rooted, for he was not, strangely enough for a -young man, very much of a believer in himself, and his conceit was not -spontaneous, but was of the bolstered-up kind, so that when he halted -in his castle-building he was in a very dangerous position, for, if -you take a young man's conceit away from him, is he _not_ in a very -dangerous position indeed? - -He was also, he told himself, learning this life lesson: that to win -what men call success in this world required something that he was -afraid he did not possess: he did not know exactly what to call it. -When he was in college he used to comfort himself with saying: "Never -mind, you may not amount to much here, but when you get out in the -world individual worth will not be handicapped by modesty." But he was -beginning to despair of this. It would do well enough in books, but it -took what they call _bluff_ to get along with men, even if you want to -do them good, and this, he knew very well, he did not, and never -could, possess. And when he followed this line of thought, he used to -sigh and come to the conclusion that what the world called success was -not worth the struggle when one had to use such manoeuvring to win -it. But he reminded himself that he must not allow himself to sink -into such pessimism, as in his case those at home had a claim upon -him. - -It was not at all characteristic of the "little Stacy" of college days -to become so despondent, for he was of a hopeful, trusting -disposition, and it was all because he had no friend to talk to, no -kindred spirit for his confiding nature, or any other kind for that -matter. - -His discouragement took the form of indignation in the end, but not -before he had several times taken hope and smiled in his old trustful -way, only to find that it was a blind lead. - -For instance when that young Wheaton in his rhetoric class appeared to -be striking up a friendship with him, and even walked through the -campus several times with him, the chances of having a friend had -seemed fair and he began to think that at last he was being -appreciated by one fellow, and a nice fellow too. But after young -Wheaton had obtained an extension of time on the essay he was to write -his manifestations of friendliness suddenly ceased. And the little -tutor wondered how he had offended his pupil. - -Then there was the time he was invited to a certain annual reception -that is always given. The little tutor knew that he was asked only by -reason of his position, but he remembered accepting with a good deal -of pleasure, and the anticipation of his _entrée_ into the society of -the town was a matter of no small excitement to him: a good deal -depended on it, he had told himself. He meditated considerably over -the manner of conducting himself in his first appearance in society as -an instructor: what was becoming to a tutor, and just how dignified he -ought to appear, and he even found himself practising remarks in his -room and examining in the glass the expression of his face and all -those old failings of his self-conscious nature of which he was so -ashamed. He remembered how excited he was as he rang the door-bell, -and how awkwardly he bowed when he had come down-stairs, and how -little the people restrained their curiosity in examining him. He did -not mingle with the younger people any more than he could help, for he -always hated young ladies, but stayed with a group of women who were -talking about Emerson. - -These ladies were members of a literary club, which thought itself -very literary and tried to be Bostonian; and no doubt it was. Stacy -had some very good ideas, and would have been willing to express them, -and could have quoted readily from an essay he had once written, but -somehow they did not seem to be expecting anything from him except to -smile and say, "Yes, certainly," now and then, as those two young -assistants were doing, and so he tried to pick up a low-toned -conversation with one of them on the edge of the circle. But they made -themselves so obnoxious by their air of superiority that he boldly -made some allusion to the athletic insignificance on the part of their -college in comparison with his own. One of them immediately made some -answer which brought in something about Yale (at which the other -laughed loudly), and then drew up his brow and looked complacent, as -if he had made a splendid shot. The poor little tutor turned on his -heel furious, and felt a strange desire to swear, something that he -had never done in all his innocent life. - -He came to the conclusion that the fault of this whole matter lay not -in himself, but in them. This is what he conceived to be the reason: -Nearly everyone in the little city, students, faculty and townspeople, -were New Englanders by blood or birth. That part of the country, like -other sections of the West, happened to have been settled entirely by -New Englanders. Perhaps they were not all of the best sort of New -England extraction either. At any rate no one knew anything but New -England ways of doing things and looking at things, and to the little -tutor, whose environments had not been such as to cause him to bow -down and worship the Pilgrim fathers, or to think that the sun rose -and set on Plymouth Rock, all this was at first a matter of surprise, -then of wonder, and finally of hate. - -Every day in chapel the President spoke in his cold tones of character -moulding, and held up before his hearers Puritan models. On Sundays -the little tutor went to the principal church of the place, and a kind -of essay that seemed to him nothing but washed-out New Englandism was -thrown out to him. The text-books were all those of New England -writers; all the manners and customs about the college were copied -after New England colleges; the very compositions that he had to -correct contained allusions to the Pilgrim Fathers and sturdy New -England character and noble Puritan traits until the little tutor -began to wish that there never had been a Plymouth Rock. He wondered -how everyone else seemed to stand it so well. But they had been -brought up on it and never knew anything different, and could not -conceive of any one's not thinking as they did and as their fathers -did and as their great-grandfathers had done, and pitied (only Stacy -doubted if they could pity) any family that did not have a piece of -the Mayflower to worship. - -The most aggravating feature of it, to the little tutor, was that they -were so very self-satisfied about it all, never dreaming that there -could be anyone so barbarous as not to envy their New England blood, -and it was this attitude that used to make the little tutor indignant -and cause him to wish he could be sarcastic, as one of his professors -used to be: how he would pitch into them! But the worst of it was that -he realized his diminutiveness and his boyishness; so he felt helpless -and baffled, and he had to submit to the cold indifference and haughty -air of superiority worn by those two young assistants not much older -than himself, who graduated from such a miserable little unheard-of -college. Stacy thought that if they had gone to his college they would -have had some of the conceit taken out of them. He thought he might -stand it all as far as he was concerned, but he felt somehow as if -they were insulting his college in their treatment of himself, her -representative. He blushed to think how poor a representative he was. - -It was just at this point in his discouragement that he had an -opportunity which he had often longed for. At last he would have a -chance to show them what was in him. This would be his final stroke, -he told himself, and he staked his all upon it. He was to lead the -prayer-meeting. These prayer-meetings were attended by the college, -the academy, and even the professors. - -Like many excessively shy men, the little tutor was not abashed before -a crowd when he appeared in some identity other than his own. At -college he had always done well in his orations, because unconsciously -he merged his own personality into that of an imaginary orator. So on -this occasion he was perfectly cool; indeed, he was surprised at -himself. The subject was, "Help one another." He had thought, in -preparing it, that it was a singular coincidence, his having that -subject. He thought he could talk to them from his heart on such a -subject. And he did. - -They all listened intently, and he thought they must be surprised to -see how thoughtful he was, and how earnest, and what a splendid -speaker he was. When he finished, he knew that he had done well. - -He felt almost joyful when he returned to his room. He dreamed that -night that certain men came up to him as he was walking alone, and -tried to become intimate with him, as he had seen it done at college -with fellows who had suddenly become prominent. - -The next morning he was joined on the way to the campus by the -principal of the academy. Stacy thought he was going to compliment him -upon his admirable talk. But he was mistaken. He even hinted about it -indirectly, though ashamed of himself for so doing; but this had no -effect. At last, in desperation, he was going to say, "Professor -Thorne, may I ask you whether my talk last evening met your approval," -but while he was trying to invent some excuse for such a question they -reached the academy building. - -As he took his seat on the platform waiting for morning prayers to -begin (the academy had prayers as well as evening chapel), he looked -around at the preps. and studied their faces carefully. - -Professor Thorne that morning spoke on one aspect of -character-moulding, namely, "Independence." He did not directly -mention the address of the evening before, but Stacy thought he might -just as well have, as he sat there beside the principal before the -eyes of the whole academy without changing his gaze from the floor or -moving a muscle, except once, when the principal made some reference -to the sturdy New England character; then the little tutor made a -slight involuntary gesture, but no one noticed it. - -That morning in the class-room the little tutor did not seem himself, -and his pupils watched him curiously. And if the conduct and -appearance of the little tutor was unusual that morning, what was it -in the afternoon! - -At one o'clock, when nearly every one went down to get the mail, the -little tutor was casually noticed by some of them in the post-office. -"Anything for Horatio B. Stacy?" he asked at the window in a high -voice. Then they noticed him excitedly tear open the one letter he had -received and, as he ran over the contents, he said excitedly, in a -voice loud enough to be heard, "Just in time--just," but at that point -he seemed to notice that he was being observed. His dazed expression -was a curious mixture of surprise and, perhaps, pleasure. - -Then he came in late to his recitation at three o'clock and seemed to -be barely able to keep his attention on the work, and now and then he -would look up and smile and stare at them in an indescribably queer -way. And in the midst of the next recitation he suddenly arose and, -motioning the young man that was reciting to take his seat, he said, -in a husky voice, "Here, stop! the class will please excuse me," and -bowing politely, even grandly, he hurried out of the room, not seeming -to care that his pupils had not got their money's worth. The little -tutor was not himself. - -At half-past seven o'clock that evening he came promptly to the -faculty meeting and quietly took his customary seat by the door. None -of the faculty were aware of anything unusual until after they had -transacted the ordinary business and had decided one or two cases that -came up, and the president had arisen, as usual, and said, in his -clear tones, "Gentlemen of the faculty, is there further business of -any nature to come before this meeting?" and the white-headed old -professor as usual had turned his head sedately around to see if there -was anything, and then settled down in his chair again with his -disappointed look, as was his custom. At this point the little tutor -arose. - -No one saw him at first, and the president was beginning to say "Then -the meeting stands adjourned," but before he reached the last word the -little tutor cleared his throat with a loud, forced sound, which made -them all, young and old, turn their eyes upon him. He was smiling, -they thought. - -"I think it is about time for me to speak," he said, in his high -voice, with a little nervous tremor in it. - -He was vaguely conscious of this, and, also, of the light of the lamp -reflected upon the blackboard back of the President's head. Then he -buttoned up his little cut-away coat and began the speech he had -practised in his room. He spoke slowly and, apparently, very coolly, -and in a deep voice which he always assumed in delivering his -orations. - -"You are probably aware, as I am, that in the wording of the letter by -which I was engaged to serve as Professor Wilkins's assistant in your -academy, there was no clause which specifies the length of time for -which I was to serve in that capacity. This is the case, is it not? A -purely temporary arrangement, so that, in case I proved -unsatisfactory"--he tried to imitate the President's pronunciation of -this word--"I need not be retained the entire year. - -"I have been here one month," he said, with impressiveness. He paused -a moment, and then assuming a smile which he thought was like one of -his old classmates, he concluded: "I appreciate the delicacy of your -position, and will relieve you of the disagreeable duty--a duty from -which you have been restrained by your very kind and thoughtful -appreciation for my feelings--by voluntarily offering my resignation." - -The little tutor walked bravely over to the desk and bowing low laid a -carefully written sheet of paper on the desk, thereby purposely -allowing an opportunity for expression of opinion. But he had crossed -the room and reached his place before anyone began to speak; at first -it seemed as if nothing was going to be said on their part. Then the -President at last made answer, speaking very deliberately, it seemed -to Stacy: - -"Well, Mr. Stacy, this is very sudden; very unexpected. We are -surprised. Believe me, Mr. Stacy, in case the performance of your -duties had not been satisfactory, we would have advised you." - -The little tutor believed him. - -"Furthermore, your work has been entirely satisfactory, has it not, -Professor Thorne?" - -"Entirely," echoed Professor Thorne, across the room. - -The little tutor was baffled by the tones of the President. He thought -they belied his words. Nobody seemed to be impressed as he had -expected. - -"It is my intention to leave to-morrow!" he exclaimed, excitedly, -making an emphatic gesture with his hand. - -"Surely, Mr. Stacy, you are laboring under some wrong impression. -Surely, there is some misunderstanding. You are a little excited, Mr. -Stacy. Perhaps you are a little overworked. You had better think it -over before you make up your mind permanently." - -Professor Thorne here spoke up: "Don't you think, Mr. Stacy, that it -would be a little unwise on your own account. Pardon me, Mr. Stacy, -but I understand your circumstances, and it would be rather late in -the year to obtain another position now." - -The President was about to say something further, but as he turned he -saw on the young man's face a look as of a weak animal at bay; and he -stopped. - -"Don't you know why I'm leaving this place? I'll tell you," he -exclaimed, excitedly; all his oratorical manner and assumed -grandiloquence was forgotten with the rest of his speech. He almost -screamed in his natural voice, "I'll tell you, I HATE you--all, every -one." He swept his hand wildly around the circle, "From the oldest, -gray-haired D.D. to those two conceited young assistants, you cold, -intellectual, cultured, bloodless, unemotional, self-satisfied -creatures--I HATE YOU. Of course _you_ don't care; you won't lose -anything by my hate." He paused a moment, buttoned up his little coat -and began again, the words pouring out of themselves: "I know I'm -nobody; I know I'm not attractive, or cultured, but I'm a human -being--if I'm not from New England--and I have a human heart. I have -been here a whole month, and in that time what one of you has made a -friendly advance?--has spoken a word of encouragement?--has even -taken note of my existence, except as a machine paid to do a certain -amount of work? I found that out that first day in chapel when your -President told you all of the bargain he had made. He assured you that -you were not cheated, as the article rented had had a good standing in -his class. I wondered at the time he did not, in naming my good points -like a horse, mention my college instead of saying _a good Eastern -college_--that's what I can't stand. I could endure the treatment of -myself, but those slurs on my college I cannot and will not stand. -Stop! Don't get excited; don't try to explain anything. You don't want -me to go, because you think you have a good, hard-working horse. You -think to detain me by informing me of my poverty. That might do, -but--but read that!" He snatched from his pocket the letter he had -received that morning. - -"_Read that!_" and he started toward the desk with the letter in his -hand. But the strain was too much for the little tutor. He fainted for -the first time in his life. - - * * * * * - -He never found out whether they read the letter or not. Of course, he -could have ascertained by writing out there, but he never did. -Indeed, he did not like to think of that time now, though he did love -to take out a certain letter with a printed head at the top and read -the formal language which stated briefly how that, owing to the fact -that Mr. Charles Benjamin Howard had decided, etc., "the fellowship -in, etc., was open to Horatio B. Stacy as being, etc., and that it was -with a great deal of pleasure"--but he knew it all by heart, because -he had intended to repeat it once on a certain awful occasion when he -was, he thought, temporarily insane, at least not Horatio B. Stacy. - - - - -COLLEGE MEN - - "Johnnie, Johnnie, Dagnan, - Johnnie, Johnnie, Dagnan, - Do you want me? - No, sir-r-ee, - Not this afternoon, 'ternoon, 'ternoon, 'ternoon." - - -That is what a crowd of noisy, lazy, slouchy-looking fellows, in a -circle in front of Reunion were singing to a little, old, dried-up -man, with a plaintive face and blue uniform, in the centre of it. - -John Dagnan, chief of college police and envoy extraordinary to the -faculty, cast a sad reproachful glance at two of the number to whom he -had borne many a summons to appear at one o'clock, and then relapsed -into his characteristic melancholy silence, gazing inscrutably into -the distance. - -Over by the elm in front of the _Princetonian_ Office were four -seniors pitching pennies and looking very much in earnest over it. Up -and down in front of the shambling old building two or three -base-balls were flying back and forth over or against the heads of the -loafers and passers-by. Several other groups were merely sitting on -the steps or standing on the stone walks, talking or whistling or -waiting for nothing. - -The steps in front of the entry door were so crowded that young -Symington, following his friend Tucker, had to tread upon some of the -loungers to get inside. But the loungers were used to that and did not -stop their conversation. It's easier than arising. - -Symington would have liked to stop and watch the fellows pitching -pennies, and hear more of the song, and see what the little policeman -was going to do about it, but he did not say a word. He merely -followed Tucker up to his room and wondered why he failed to notice -it. - -Charlie Symington was a well-built prep. boy who had been known to -strike out three men with the bases full. He had been invited to spend -Sunday in Princeton by some important athletic men in order that he -might see how much better their college was than all others in the -world. This was because Charles was young and foolish and had shown -signs of shifting his youthful affections and his future athletic -brilliance to that other college where two of his intimate friends -were going, and which had brilliance enough already. - -These athletic officials thought that this would be narrow-minded in -him, and they were giving him a very good time. The way they did it -was not by treating him as a distinguished guest or by telling him -what a fine fellow he was, which would have turned the little boy's -head and have made him think he could do as he pleased. They simply -said "Come," and when he came, let him walk around with them. - -For they were a right conceited lot in regard to their college, and -thought that all they had to do was put a boy on the campus, let him -use his eyes and breathe the air and get it in his young system, and -his good sense would do the rest. If it did not, his sense was not -good and they did not want him, thought they. - -As for the young pitcher, he did not quite understand why these great -and awful men whom he had often heard of were so kind to him, and he -did not care. He only opened his eyes and ears and shut his mouth, and -let his friends do whatever they wanted with him and thought it was -very nice in them. - -And that is all I am going to tell of; what Symington the prep. drank -in with his eyes and ears open and his mouth closed. Nothing will -happen. - -A lame arm had laid him off his team for the usual Saturday game, so -he had arrived in Princeton this afternoon in time to see the 'varsity -play with a small college nine. He watched the game critically and -closely, and passed judgment on each player--under his breath. - -He knew the initials, age, class, and previous history of every man on -the team, and he could have told you just what each one did and did -not in the seventh inning of the Yale game two years before. In regard -to the important games previous to that he was somewhat hazy. He was -only sure of the scores by innings, the total base hits, and the -errors, though he hated to confess it. - -Tucker, the Base-ball president, had honored him to the extent of -allowing him to sit on the bench under the canopy with the team. Here -was a splendid opportunity of gazing upon their faces at close range. -Once when the third baseman came in breathless from a home run, with -perspiration running down his face, he tripped on Symington's toe and -said to him in a loud tone, in order to be heard above the applause, -"Pardon me, Symington," which Charlie did. - -After the game, which was of the subdued, half-holiday recreation -sort, good to bring either a pipe or a girl to, without fear of -putting either out by inattention, Tucker, the president, brought him -up the street and through the noisy quadrangle to Reunion Hall where -he now was ascending the stairs. - -Tucker opened the door and picked up a dozen or more letters from the -floor and said, "Sit down, Charlie," and began to assort them. - -But he said "Sit down Charlie" in an absent-minded tone, and Charlie -knew that, and so he looked about the room instead. He thought this -was the kind of a room a college man ought to have. He gazed at -everything in it from the oar of the last Princeton crew (which must -have rowed in triremes--there are two hundred and nine of those oars) -to the small photograph of a girl's face in a dainty little figured -blue silk frame, all alone over Tucker's desk. That was the first -thing he had discovered of which he could not approve. It grieved him -to be obliged to think that of Tucker. He seemed such a fine fellow, -too. - -Just then Mercer, the treasurer, came in with his rattling tin-box, -and talked business with Tucker, who nodded his head and kept on -opening and glancing through letters. - -Symington tried not to listen, but he couldn't help hearing, so he got -up again and went to the window. A great lot of racket was going on in -the quadrangle below. Somebody had thrown some water out of a window -at somebody else, and now they were trying to throw stones back -without breaking glass, which was hard to do. Everyone was shouting or -yelling, or both, and it was echoing from Old North and College -Offices. This is called Horse. - -It interrupted Tucker so that he had to raise his voice and repeat -several times what he said to Mercer. Finally the voices became louder -than he liked. Stepping across the room in a matter-of-fact way with -an open letter in his other hand, he threw down the window from the -top, with a shrill squeak, and said, in a casual tone, "Ah, I'm afraid -you'll have to be just a little bit more quiet down there. You're -getting a trifle too noisy. There, that's better," and went on with -his sentence to Mercer, who answered, "That's so. Shall I wire him -about it?" The racket had suddenly subsided. - -Symington the prep. sat down and looked at Tucker. But the senior -changed his expression no more than when he knocked the ashes out of -his pipe. Charles asked no questions because he was not that kind of a -prep., but he arose, went to the window again and looked at the -horse-players. Then he looked at Tucker once more. Most of them were -bigger than Tucker. - -They acted as if nothing unusual had taken place. They were laughing -now at something else, only it was quiet laughter. They were -under-classmen. - -The two athletic officers were busy now, the president talking very -rapidly and seriously, and the treasurer listening intently. -Symington, the prep., gazed out of the window as only preps. can gaze. -He found it interesting enough. - -It was that hour of the day when the undergraduate leaves whatever has -been occupying his attention, and thrusts his hands deep into his -pockets, and heads for the spot in town where he feels like going -three times every day. There were dozens of them in sight doing it -now. - -The prep. thought it odd, the way some of them stood still out in the -middle of the campus, and with their eyes turned toward an upper story -of one of the buildings yelled, "Hello-o, Sam, going down to grub?" or -beseechingly, "Please shake it up," or commandingly, "Get a move up -there!" He liked it though. - -He could hear footsteps rumbling down the entry stairs, then the door -slam, and then the man himself would emerge in sight. He saw them -coming out of North, too, and from West, and he could make out others, -way over by East College. Many of them headed toward Nassau Street. -Some set out in the direction of the Chapel. Others turned toward the -Gymnasium. Nearly all of them whistled or made a noise of some sort as -they went along. - -One fellow, a tremendous man, was stalking by with his head thrown -back, singing at the top of his voice. But the funny part of it to -Symington was that the big fellow's face seemed utterly unconscious of -whether any one was around to see him or not. He was all alone, and he -seemed to be having a quiet, comfortable time of it. - -When the clock tolled six Tucker arose and said, "Now we'll go and get -some dinner, Charlie--Pat, Symington and I dine at the Athletic Club -this evening. We'll see you later." Pat was Mercer's right name. - -Symington was glad to hear that he was to dine at the Athletic Club -this evening. He had read all about this affair, and had seen -pictures of it in _Harper's Weekly_. But he listened attentively to -all Tucker had to say on the way down. - -His friend opened the heavy oaken door with a small flat key, -explaining that it was necessary to keep the doors locked because the -mob would otherwise make themselves at home in there. "You see, -Charlie," he said, "although this is the training-quarters it is a -private club, and not a public affair like the field-house we were in -this afternoon. But the membership is open to every one for -competition. When you come to college, if you make the team, you will -be a member as long as you are training with it. If you become a -captain or get any of the Athletic offices you'll be a life member." - -But Symington the prep. was not listening to that. When the door -opened he caught a glimpse of a big brick fireplace with tiling over -it, on which was inscribed "Oranje Boven," and higher up were -footballs hung in clusters with scores painted upon them, and all -about the wainscoted walls of the hallway were baseball and football -and lacrosse championship banners with gilt lettering. That's what he -was paying attention to. - -"Yes, leave your cap there, any place. Now I want to see what you're -good for in this line. We'll go over the house afterward." Tucker led -the way toward the sound of knives and forks. - -Now it should be understood that Symington, the head man of the -school, was not afraid of anything on earth, and if he were dining at -Prospect with the President of the University, it would not have -mattered. But to walk straight into a room and be introduced to the -captain of the team was a little too much. It took his appetite away -at first, and he thought he could eat none of that famous training -food of which he had heard. However, the shock soon passed. - -He was presented to all the members of the nine, and to the subs and -to the trainer, and also to two professional pitchers from the -Brooklyn League team, who were down to coach the players, and who were -just now eating with their knives a huge meal at a little side-table. - -Symington was given a seat next to Jack, the trainer, who was cordial -and kind to him, and said, "Oh, me boy, you must eat more than that." - -The meal seemed to be a very business-like affair. The men were brown -from their exercise in the sun, and ruddy and glowing from their -recent rub down, and hungry from both causes, and they devoured great -sections of rare beef as though they knew it was their duty to get -strong for Old Nassau. - -The conversation was quite shoppy. When he had finished, the captain -pushed back his chair from the table and said, "Fellows, you played a -pretty good game to-day. But we've got to brace up in team work. When -a man's on a base we must simply push him the rest of the way around." - -As soon as dessert was finished, Tucker said, "I want to smoke. Let's -start up for the singing, Charlie." - -Symington would have liked to explore the rest of the club-house, -though of course he did not say so. He did not even ask what the -singing meant. But as they arose to leave the table he did ask a -question about one of the portraits of the ancient and modern athletic -heroes which line the walls. - -"Yes, Charlie," said Tucker, "that's he." - -"I remember just how he looked when he made that long, low drive, that -time, in the ninth inning," Symington said, solemnly. - -"Yes," said Tucker, briefly, "a great many of us will always remember -his long, low drives. Here is your cap." - -This was in reference to a large portrait at the end of the room. The -frame had a deep black border. - -Tucker and his friend, the other fellow, the University treasurer, -whose name the prep. had forgotten, waited until entirely out of the -house before lighting their pipes. - -Two or three of the team joined Tucker and Symington and the -University treasurer. The prep. felt that one of them was coming up -beside him. He waited a moment and then glanced out of the corner of -his eye. He caught his breath, but did not fall down. It was the -captain of the 'varsity nine. - -It's a very fine thing to be head man of your school and pitcher on -your team, but oh, if the school could see him now! - -"How do you like our club?" asked the captain in a voice something -like other men's. - -"I like the club," said Symington. - -"Yes, we think it's a pretty comfortable place. Come down to-morrow -and we'll show you the Trophy-room and all." Then he began to question -him about his team at school. - -To Symington's surprise and delight the captain seemed to know the -score of all the important games they had played and how many--or how -few--base hits had been gained in each one off him, Charles Symington. -And he can tell you to this day every word of the conversation and at -what point of the walk it was when the captain said, "Well, you are -pitching pretty good ball this year. This is McCosh walk. Look at -those trees." - -"Yes," said Symington. - -The soft evening light was sifting down through the interlacing -branches, making a glow to dream about, which Symington did not -notice. He had no time to waste at present. - -They passed between Chapel and Murray Hall and across back of West -toward North. Just as they reached Old Chapel strange notes of music -broke in on the prep.'s ears. At first he could not make up his mind -whether it was vocal or instrumental, or whether it was real at all, -in fact, or part of a dream like everything else perhaps. The seniors -were singing, and from that part of the campus it echoes oddly, as you -doubtless know. - -When they turned the corner and were on the front campus a wonderful -sight met the prep.'s eyes. On the steps of Old North, and spilling -over upon the stone walks in front and filling up the window casements -on either side, was the senior class in duck trousers and careless -attitudes with the dark green of many class-ivies for a background and -the mellow brown wall of the ancient pile showing through in places. -Most of the fellows had an arm about one or two others. - -One of the number was standing up in front beating time with a folded -_Princetonian_. They were singing a dear old song called "Annie Lyle." -Their voices came rich and sweet in the twilight air. - -Under the wide elms were the rest of the college. Also the poor -post-graduates and some of the faculty's families and the little -muckers, and even a few seminary students from over the way. But only -the undergraduates seemed becoming to the scene. The others rather -spoiled the effect. - -Some of the fellows were sprawled out flat on their backs looking up -through the tree-tops at the fading blue. Some rested their heads on -each other and got all mixed up so that no one could tell which were -his own legs. Others were strolling about or looking at the strangers -who came to spend Sunday or to see the game. A few were passing -tennis-balls and being cursed by the rest. All of them wore négligé -clothes or worse. - -The captain said he did not feel like singing and led Symington across -in front of the seniors and made him sit down beside him on the grass. -This was in the eyes of the whole University. - -Symington was quite near the men on the steps. He looked them over -and tried to catch the joke they were all laughing at now the song was -finished. He thought it would be a right fine thing to sit up there -and sing to a college. And he made up his mind that if he ever did it -he would climb up on top of one of the lion's heads like that little -short fellow with the long pipe. - -After singing "Rumski Ho" in long, measured cadence, and other good -old things and several new ones, some one on the steps began shouting, -"Brown! Brown!" Several voices said, in concert, "We _must_ have -Brown." Out in the crowd they began crying, "Right! Brown. We want -Brown! We _must_ have Brown!" - -Three seniors lay hold of one senior and lifted him to his feet. -Symington could hear him saying, "Don't, don't. I'm a chestnut. They -won't listen to me any more. Please don't make a fool of me, fellows." -But he was made to stand out in front and sing a solo. - -While this was going on the rest of the college jumped up from their -places and pressed up into a close semicircle about the steps. -Symington and the captain had to arise to keep from being trampled on. - -When Brown finished his solo he was applauded so much that he had to -sing another, and Symington made up his mind that next to being the -captain he would most like to be Brown. - -Then the crowd called for "Timber," and a man got up who had the -queerest face Symington ever saw. He looked as if he were trying with -all his might to look serious and would never succeed. Everyone began -to laugh the moment Timberly stood up, especially his own classmates. -And when he began to sing his comic ballad they laughed still more. - -When he finished, the audience clapped their hands and yelled. A crowd -of juniors gave the college cheer and ended with the words "Timberly's -Solo." In some respects Symington liked Timberly more than Brown. - -When Timberly at last, looking sad, sat down, Symington heard several -voices saying "Everybody up." Those on the ground arose, and those in -the windows jumped down. Symington got up too, though he did not know -why, and took off his cap when he saw the captain do it. - -It was late twilight. The campus was becoming dusky. The faces were -dim. The ball-throwing had ceased, and the little muckers had left. -The elms were sighing softly overhead in a patriarchal sort of way. -Symington thought everyone seemed more quiet and solemn than they -were before. Perhaps he only imagined it. - -Then, with all the seniors on their feet, with their heads uncovered, -the leader waved his white baton, and over one hundred voices sang -"Tune every heart and every voice, Bid every care withdraw," and the -rest of the college hymn. - -Many of the audience joined in, and nobody thought it fresh in them; -and Symington would have liked to join in too, only he did not know -how. He felt very queer for some reason, and forgot who was standing -beside him for a moment. The poetry of the scene was getting into him. -He didn't know that, of course, but he had a vague feeling that this -was living, and that it was good for him to be there. - -When the hymn was finished the class cheered for itself and for the -college, and for itself again; and the senior singing was over. - -From all over the front campus there suddenly broke out in many loud -discordant keys, "Hello, Billy Minot" and "Hello, Jimmy Linton" and -"hello" Johnnys and Harrys and Reddys and Dicks, and Drunks, and -Deans, and Fathers, and Mables and horses and dogs and houses and -others. As each found the man he wanted, an arm or two was thrown -about a neck or two, and they started off for some other part of the -campus or town. - -The captain had also helloed for someone. Symington was left alone for -a moment. But he was not exactly alone. He listened to the scraps of -talk as the fellows moved past. "Pretty good singing this evening.... -Get to work now.... At Dohm's.... I told him to come up.... New York -to get advertisements.... The Trigonometry.... Trials for the Gun -Club.... _Princetonian_ Subscriptions now.... The mandolin to some -girls that came to see the game with him.... You damn sour ball." Some -of them were humming the last notes of the song. Others were saying -nothing. - -A loud clear voice beside him called "Hello, Charlie Symington." It -was Tucker looking for him in the dusk, and he called him just as they -called to college men. Symington was to meet the captain again later -on. Tucker put his arm about Charlie's shoulders as they stepped along -toward Reunion. Perhaps he did it unconsciously. - -"You can amuse yourself with these," said Tucker, tossing into -Charlie's lap a copy of the _Bric-a-Brac_, which he had read long ago -at school, and a lot of photographs. "And if you want a nap," he -added "just read that." He threw across the room the last number of -the _Nassau Lit_. That's a very old joke. - -Tucker then turned to his desk and got to work over something. -Symington did not know what it was, and of course did not ask. But it -was not fifteen minutes before "Hello-o, Tommy Tucker" came in a loud -voice from the quad, below. Tucker frowned and did not look up. - -Then it came again, with a sharper accent on the second syllable, -"Hell_oo_, Tommy Tucker." - -"Hello," Tucker replied, shortly. - -"Are you up there?" - -"No, I'm down at the 'varsity grounds running around the track." - -"You busy?" - -"Yes, Ted, I am. Don't come up." - -"All right." Then a whistled tune began, and the shuffling of a pair -of feet along the walk. Gradually they faded and mingled with other -whistling and feet scraping. - -While Symington was thinking this over he heard another voice calling -for someone else, and when a muffled response came back, the clear, -outside voice said, "Stick your head out!" He heard a window lowered -and the inside voice say "Well?" - -"Stick it in again." - -The window slammed and the man below went on down to Dohm's, whistling -softly to himself. - -Symington, the prep., thought that was very funny and laughed aloud, -and hoped he did not disturb his host by so doing. - -Presently someone else yelled for Tucker, and when he replied, "Yes, -of course, I'm busy," the man below called back, "Too bad," and the -entry stairs began to clatter. In a moment a broad smile and a pair of -clean duck trousers burst into the room. - -"Timberly," said Tucker, smiling in spite of himself, "I thought I -told you not to come up here this evening." - -"I believe you did. That's so." Timberly was trying to look serious. -Then brightening up at the sight of Symington as if remembering -something. "But you see," he said, "I wanted to meet the pitcher." -Tucker grinned and introduced them. - -Timberly shook Symington's hand vigorously and said, "Wasn't that a -smooth song I sang on the steps--hey? I'm a good one, only none of 'em -appreciate me. Oh, yes, I nearly forgot--I'm up here on business. I'm -up here on business, Tommy Tucker," he repeated, and daintily kicked -off Tucker's cap and disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Tucker kept -on working. Symington wondered what Timberly was doing. - -It was nearly half-past eight now, and other fellows began dropping -in. Some helloed first and some came unannounced. Tucker looked up to -see who they were. Sometimes he said "Hello" and sometimes he did not. -Some of them took off their caps. Others did not. Tucker left it to -the first ones to introduce Symington to the later ones. - -After half an hour's absence Timberly emerged from the room finishing -a sentence he had begun before he opened the door. "And Tommy, you -must do the rest. You can tie them so nicely too." - -"Tommy, look," said the man with the banjo on the sofa. - -Timberly was standing up straight, nicely incased in evening clothes -and holding two ends of a white tie in his hands. He looked -well-groomed and seemed like a different man now. Perhaps he was. - -"What are you doing?" said Tucker, in a stern voice. - -"I've got to do it. It's two years now, and it's not good form to let -a dinner call go more than two years in Princeton. Here, Tommy, fix -this." - -"Do it yourself." - -"These were great friends of my brother's, and he made me promise on -the Family Bible, if we have one. Here, tie this. Great Scott, I've -done all the rest. They are your own clothes. You ought to at least be -willing to fix the tie." - -Tucker put his pen between his teeth and tied the knot with Timberly -kneeling at his feet like a patient child having his face washed. -Tucker was one of the three men in college who could make a decent job -of a tie on another man's neck without standing behind him. The others -looked on in silence. Timberly looked up and winked at the prep. - -As a rule Symington did not like people to wink at him, as though he -were a boy, but this was a most peculiar wink. He not only liked it -but nearly snorted out with laughter, which would have been a very -kiddish thing to do. - -Timberly jumped up. "You're a pretty nice fellow, Tommy Tucker, even -though you are arrogant," he said, and leaned over and rubbed his chin -affectionately across Tucker's nose, then grabbed his cap and started -for the door. - -"By the way Timber," said Tucker. "I want you to return those clothes -some time. Do you hear? I may go out of town next week." - -"That sounds reasonable," replied Timberly, reflectively rattling the -knob as he glanced about the room at the others. - -"And I don't want to chase all over the campus for 'em. Do you hear?" - -"Now, Tommy Tucker, you talk as if I were accustomed to keeping things -I borrow. What are you fellows laughing at? Besides, you know very -well, T. Tucker, that even if I should happen to forget to return your -suit, all you would have to do would be to wire down home for -mine--or, no, ask me and I'd wire down myself and save you the -trouble." He banged the door. - -"Now do you suppose," laughed the one with the cigar on the divan as -Timberly's feet in Tucker's patent leathers went pattering down the -stairs, "that Timber thought he was in earnest in that last brilliant -remark of his, or was it meant for horse." You could seldom tell with -Timberly. - -"I don't believe he knew himself," said the man with his feet on the -arms of Symington's chair. "He's on one of his streaks to-day. I saw -the symptoms this morning in Ethics. And when he's that way he's as -good as crazy." - -"Right," said the one with the banjo. "He don't know what he's saying -any more than he knows that he has a cap on his head with a dress -suit. If he were in his right mind he would not go out calling." - -"He'll either make a fool of himself this evening wherever he goes, or -else he'll make one of those great tears of his." - -But Symington the prep. thought Timberly was about the best fun in the -world. - -Some of the fellows left and others came in. Symington thought some of -them behaved oddly. One man seemed very sour and came in scowling and -sat down without saying hello to anybody. He put his feet on the table -and pulled his cap down over his eyes. As soon as he finished his pipe -and had emptied the ashes on the carpet to keep out the moths he arose -and stretched himself and went away again. He had not said a word. And -after he had left no one said anything about it. - -That happened while the crowd was thickest. When there were only a few -fellows in the room some one generally remembered to introduce the -incomers to Symington. He rather liked the way they treated him. They -did not, as a rule, patronize him because of his being a prep. And -they did not take pains to make him feel at ease, which would have -rattled him. They treated him more as if he were one of them, and -talked to him, if they felt like it, and let him look after himself, -if they did not. At least that is the way it seemed to Charlie. And -they called him Charlie or Symington, without any Mister, which would -have made him feel ridiculous. - -And all this time Tucker at his desk kept on working and only looked -up occasionally to say, "How are you, Willie, there's the tobacco, -come in." The only time he arose from his seat was once when Jack the -trainer came in, and looking at the crowd said, "Mister Tucker, can I -speak with ye a moment." The busy man said "Certainly" and led the way -into his bedroom and closed the door with a bang, and came out again -in a few minutes saying, "All right Jack, I appreciate your position. -I'll see to it. Good-night," and sat down to work again. - -At a little before eleven the prep. began to feel the force of -training habits. He was gritting his teeth hard to keep from yawning. -Tucker, who had not looked up for nearly an hour, whisked his papers -and things to one side, slammed two drawers, turned a lock, and -suddenly jumped up from his chair. He ran across the room with a yell -which startled the prep. and made the chandelier ring. Then he threw -himself upon two fellows on the divan and began calling them names. -His teeth were set and his face so fierce that the prep. found it -difficult to keep from believing him angry. And then the two on the -divan arose in their might and cast him upon the floor, exclaiming, -victoriously, "There, be Gosh." Tucker was through his work for the -week and was feeling glad about it. That was his way of expressing it. - -"Now, Charlie," he said in a loud, careless manner, "we go out and -have some fun now. Here's a cap. Don't wear that ugly stiff hat any -more. See?" - -Symington had no idea where he was going, but he arose and said -good-by to the three others in the room. They did not seem to feel -badly in the least over their rude treatment on the part of their -host. One of them, sitting on a table with one foot on a chair and the -other on the floor, was reading a book of verses and did not look up -when Tucker said, "So long." The other two, who had been talking about -the baseball prospects and including Symington in their conversation, -remained flat on their backs talking about the baseball prospects -without Symington. - -It was a beautiful evening. In other words it was spring term and the -night was clear. There were still groups of fellows seated on the -doorsteps or stretched out under the trees. The gleam of their -flannels could be seen in the dark. They were up in the balconies -also. One of them knocked the ashes from his pipe and Symington saw -the sparks float down. He heard a low laugh come from one of the wide -open windows. Up from Witherspoon came the tinkle of mandolin music. -They were playing to some visiting girls on those broad balconies in -front. - -"This is West," said Tucker; "Jack Stehman lives in that room up there -and Harry Lawrence in the one below----" - -"Oh, Stehman the tackle?" asked the prep. - -"Yes. Have you met him?" - -"No." - -"You will to-night." - -The prep.'s heart gave a bound. He was to meet Stehman. - -They passed down by Clio Hall and dingy Edwards and turned toward a -long gray building a little to the left. - -"This is Dod Hall," Tucker said, and opened one of the big doors. - -They went up two or three flights of stairs and turned down the hall, -and Tucker kicked a door at the end of it. Something clicked and the -door opened of itself. Four or five voices shouted, "Come in." - -Mingled bits of conversation and tobacco smoke and the odor of -lemon-peel met them in the little hall-way as they entered it. But -Symington the prep. looked behind the door and made up his mind that -his door would have an electric apparatus like that when he came to -college. - -A fellow stuck his head out of one of the bedroom doors and pointing -across the hall-way to the main room with a long, bright deer-knife, -said, "Come in, Tom, I'll be there in a moment." He rubbed -perspiration from his brow with the back of the hand which held a -lemon and disappeared into the bedroom. - -"Yea-a-a!" cried several voices as Tucker pushed back the portière and -stood in the door-way. "Come in, Tommy," they said. "Come in, -Symington," said one of the fellows that knew the prep. - -"Fellows, this is my friend Symington, the prep.'" said Tucker; -"Symington, this is de gang." Tucker tossed his cap and Symington's -gracefully into the scrap-basket and pushed Charlie into a seat on the -sofa. A fellow with spectacles began asking him what he thought of -the afternoon's game. The prep. did not know the man's name, but that -did not matter. - -There were about a dozen fellows scattered about the room, but the -thing that attracted Symington's attention was in the centre of it. - -Two square-topped desks had been placed end to end. On these lay a -table-cloth, or rather some sheets, and on them was stacked a pile of -things good to look at and better to eat. The only reason the food did -not immediately become part of the dozen fellows was because they were -waiting with watering mouths for something to wash it down with. And -this was being prepared as rapidly as Randolph and Ashley in the -bedroom could do it. Perhaps they were trying to do it too rapidly, -for Symington heard a voice exclaim, "Aw, look out, you ass, you're -spilling it all over my bed." - -While they were waiting, Dougal Davis and Reddy Armstrong and Harry -Lawrence and Jim Linton and others came in. When the lounge, -window-seat, chairs, tables, and coal-scuttle became crowded, the -new-comers sat on the floor. - -Presently the introductory strains of Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" -came from the bedroom, followed by Randy and Dad Ashley and two -assistants bearing aloft two basins, which seemed to be heavy. They -strode in, swinging their feet far out in front in a stagey manner to -the tune of the "Wedding March" which they shouted with their heads -thrown back. - -Hunter Ramsay jumped up and marched behind them. The rest thought this -a good idea and did likewise, and all sang loud and stamped hard and -made the poler growl in the room below, which did no good. Then after -marching twice around the table they carefully set the bowls down at -either end of it with the ice tinkling against the sides. One of the -bowl-bearers remarked, "Maybe you don't think those things are heavy." - -"Now then!" said Stehman the tackle, approaching the table. "Ah!" said -Symington's friend Tucker. The others may have said things also. If -they did not they looked them. - -No one waited to be asked. Everyone was supposed to know without being -told what was the object of white breasts of cold chicken with -russet-brown skin, and rich Virginia ham with spices sticking in the -golden-brown outside fat, and little, thin, home-made sandwiches and -olives and jellies, Virginia jellies, you know, and beaten biscuit and -chocolate cake and fruit cake, or black cake, as they call it in the -South. As a matter of fact they all did seem to know, and this -included Symington, who held his own with the others very well for a -little prep. boy in training. He had forgotten to be sleepy now. - -Thus began one of the greatest evenings in the life of Charlie -Symington, and it lasted until two o'clock. It was an old-fashioned -spread. There was no caterer with a gas-stove in the bedroom, or a -table set with a bank of flowers down the centre, or properly attired -waiters opening wine behind the chairs. Randolph's mother had sent up -a lot of deliciously cooked stuff from the old place in Virginia. -Randolph had said to some of the fellows, "I've got a box of grub. Can -you come 'round this evening?" And by the looks of things most of them -had found that they could as well as not. - -Symington had the best time of them all, and, besides, he learned -much. He noticed that quite as many fellows took lemonade as drank -punch, and this was a matter of surprise to the prep. For his ideas of -college men were largely drawn from would-be sportive young freshmen -that drove through prep. school towns waving beer-bottles overhead and -beating their horses into a gallop. - -Nobody got drunk. Everyone became livelier and brighter and better, -but that is the object of such gatherings, and those who confined -their attentions to the lemonade end of the table were as noisy as the -others. No one was urged to take the red fluid rather than the yellow. -In fact no one observed which fellows visited which punch-bowl. No one -but Symington. And he had been under the impression that at college a -fellow's jaws were pried open with a baseball bat and rum was poured -down his throat, while three other men held his legs and arms. - -The room had now become beautifully hazy with smoke. Some of the -fellows tipped their chairs back and put their feet up. The -window-seat was full to overflowing. One man rested his head on -another fellow's shoulder and asked him to muss his hair. The legs of -the one having his hair mussed stretched out over the legs of two -other fellows and intertwined with those of a third. Two men were -sitting beside the oranges on the table. Some were on the floor with -their backs against the wall. All had full stomachs and light jovial -spirits. Symington was watching Dougal Davis blow rings. - -Harry Lawrence started up "The Orange and the Black." They sang all -the stanzas. Then they sang more songs, old songs which are still -popular and new songs which were then popular and are now quite -forgotten, probably. Everyone sang, whether he knew how or not. -Symington sang too. The one he liked the best was a funny song -beginning, "Oh, to-day is the day that he comes from the city." They -sang that one over and over again. Then they sang it once more. They -were all having a good time. - -After a while the room became quiet and someone turned down the lights -and they told ghost stories, which frightened the prep. - -They wound up the evening by trooping downstairs in the dark, for the -lights were turned out long ago, and marching up to the front campus, -singing as they went. And there they danced about the cannon and sang -and whooped and yelled until Bill Leggett came over with his lantern -and said, in his gruff voice and good-natured manner, "Boys, it's -nearly Sunday morning." - -"All right, Bill," they answered. Then all said good-night and went to -bed. - -Tucker had a roommate some place, but Symington had his bedroom that -night. - -"If you want anything, just yell for me, Charlie. My room is right -next, you know. Goodnight." Tucker was half undressed. - -"I sha'n't want anything. Wait a minute, Tucker, please. I'm not sure -about something, and it bothers me." - -"Well?" - -"Princeton won the football championship in '78, didn't we?" - -"Say that again." - -"Didn't we win in '78?" - -"Yes, Charlie, we did." - -Symington thought his friend Tucker was smiling at his ignorance. But -that wasn't it. - - - - -THE MAN THAT LED THE CLASS - - -The Latin salutatory was finished. Dougal Davis bowed and took his -seat and the applause began. - -He had done well and he knew it, but he did not stop to dwell upon -that now. There would be plenty of time to feel pleased with himself -later on. At present his chief sensation was of jubilant relief at -telling himself that the thing was over with at last. - -Not many of his audience had understood much of what he had been -saying, but that did not matter. The fellows smiled at the right time -when he said something about _puellas pulchras_, and they nodded their -heads knowingly when he made the reference to athletics, as he had -told them beforehand to do. And he had gotten through without -forgetting the paragraph beginning with "Postquam," as he feared he -would. - -He was mopping his good-looking brow. His nerves were still quivering, -but he felt perfectly cool and unafraid of anything, and he sat very -still with his eyes half closed, and felt the tension on his nerves -soothingly relax. Then for the first time he heard the applause, and -it occurred to him that all those many people out there were clapping -their hands for him, and that for five minutes they had heard very -little else but his voice, and he felt without glancing up that they -were still looking at him and very likely thinking, "That is the man -that led the class." He told himself all this with an inward smile of -wonder at his own importance, and at his not being more impressed by -it. - -Then he slowly raised his eyes and moved his gaze around over the many -fluttering fans to the right. He passed over it once without seeing -it, then he found the face he was searching for. She was looking up at -him with just the kind of a smile that he knew would be there, and -when she caught his eye, the smile became radiant, and he fancied he -saw a little look of triumph in it. This he answered with a shrug of -his engowned shoulder and an almost imperceptible grimace, and quickly -looked away again. No one else saw it, but she saw and she understood. - -The applause had ceased, and the next man was introduced and the -audience turned their attention to him. - -Davis took a long breath and looked about him. There was a fat old -lady fanning vigorously, and at every stroke of the fan a ray of -light was reflected in his face. Over there on the right of the -platform were the venerable trustees. Harry Lawrence's fine looking -father, with the handsome head of gray hair, was in the front row, -looking grave and indulgently interested. On the left were the faculty -in their black gowns. They appeared more or less accustomed to all -this. Down in front were his classmates, and back of these the many, -many people closely crowded together. Their faces looked like little -patches of white with dark marks for features, and nearly all of them -seemed to be fanning. - -He remembered the lining up under the elms this morning in front of -North, and the band that played, and the girls that gazed, and the -many classes calling "'82 this way!" and "'61 this way!" and the -old-fashioned cheer that '79 gave. Then with the band taking a fresh -hold on the air, how the long procession had begun its march under the -trees toward the church, between the crowds of visitors who parted to -either side and looked at them as they filed by. - -First came that member of the faculty who is always grand marshal and -carries an orange and black baton, then the august trustees followed -by the faculty in their gowns and mortar boards, and behind these -trooped the sons of Nassau; each class in the order of graduation, and -last of all those who were about to become graduates, over whom all -this fuss was being made, and who were somewhat impressed by it and by -the length of their gowns. - -He remembered the slow, dignified march led by the grand usher and his -assistants up the aisle of the old church between the crowded pews of -smiling fathers and proud mothers and the girls with bright-colored -dresses. He recalled how amused and yet pleased he was at hearing a -junior whisper to a girl beside him, "There he is--that's Davis, the -one I was telling you about." This he remembered had interrupted the -silent rehearsal of the sentence with the ablative absolute in it. But -he did not have to rehearse it any more. All the salutatorian had to -do was to sit still and hear what the other speakers had to say and -feel good. - -He was thinking about himself and the four years just past, and having -a right good time at it. He recalled how he had been a nobody at the -start, and he smiled as he remembered how some of these very fellows -in the pews before him had looked down on him in freshman year, and -how he had forced their respect and won their liking. He traced the -progress of it from the first step when he gained the one freshman -position on the _Princetonian_ board and overheard someone say, "What! -that poler?" up to the present time when people pointed him out on the -campus and said, "There goes Dougal Davis." Few ambitious men graduate -with as much to be proud of and as little to regret. - -First there was the prize for leading the class in freshman year, then -came the sophomore essay prize, and the Washington's birthday debate, -and the next year a classical prize and two or three Hall honors, -including one of the four appointments for the inter-Hall junior -oratorical contest, in which he had won first place, and a number of -other prizes of which he did not stop to think in detail, and finally -the appointment as first representative of his Hall in the Lynde -debate which had taken place the night before, and the result of which -would be announced to-day. Intermingled with these were other honors, -such as the membership of an elective club, and the presidency of his -class in junior year, and the class oratorship on Class Day, and then -the Latin salutatory to-day. - -You see he had just about all one man could get, and before he left -the room he was going to hear his name read out before everybody, as -the winner of still a few more honors. This was the culmination of a -rather successful career, and he told himself that he did not care how -conceited it was, he was going to enjoy it for all it was worth, for -before the sun set he would be an undergraduate no longer, and there -would be plenty of time to find how small he was. - -Dougal Davis was the son of a foreign missionary, and he had entered -college with the intention of making a minister of the Gospel of -himself. He still had that intention. He was one of the most popular -men on the campus. - -When he began his course he was as bristling with prejudices and as -redolent of sanctimony as many high-minded young men of noble purpose -and little tact, but unlike some of them he had sense of humor enough -to find out pretty promptly that he was a young prig. - -He soon shed many of his prejudices, and he was fair-minded enough to -let the good wholesome atmosphere of the campus air out his -sanctimony. This is a way of saying that early in freshman year he -took himself in hand and decided that if he and a number of other -fellows looked at a number of things in vastly different ways it did -not necessarily follow that the other fellows were dead wrong. He was -in evidence at class prayer-meetings, but not more than at the -meetings at the lamp-post in front of Reunion, with his hands doubled -up under a sweater, gossiping with the crowd. That is the sort of a -fellow he was. - -Davis's father had a small salary and a large family, like all -missionaries, and one of the girls had come back to the States when -Dougal did to go to a school in Philadelphia. So young Davis earned -the price of his education. - -But this was not so hard as it sounds. Being a minister's son he had a -scholarship, which saved his tuition bills, and he ran a club, so that -his board cost nothing. Leading the class in freshman year not only -brought him the prize of $200, but the best kind of advertising with -the faculty as well, so that in sophomore year he had more tutoring -sent around to him than he knew what to do with. Then he became -Princeton correspondent for several papers, and dropped tutoring -except on special occasions and at very special rates. He had such a -reputation that he could have had any price he asked. "Go to Davis; he -can put you through any examination," they used to say. - -In junior year he enlarged his newspaper correspondence and began -doing some syndicate work. He gained a bit of reputation with football -writing, and in his senior year he used to sign his name to a column -of it every week. "The joke of it is," Dougal used to explain, "I -don't know beans about the game." This was not strictly true, for no -one with eyes could go through four years of tramping down to 'varsity -field without absorbing enough to enlighten the average sporting -editor. - -In short, before Davis was three-quarters of the way through his -college course, he was paying his expenses and making a surplus which -was considerably larger than that which poor young men who earn their -way through college to preach the Gospel are supposed to have. - -Now he might have sent a portion of it out to his hard-working parents -in Persia, or have helped to defray the expenses of his ambitious -sister at school. This would have been noble of him, but he did -nothing of the kind. One does not need much money in Persia; there's -nothing to spend it on. His people had a large, comfortable home with -a dozen servants to look after it, and they seemed to have leisure -enough to write articles for English and American magazines now and -then. A rich aunt looked out for his sister, and she had the -reputation of dressing more artistically than any girl in the Walnut -Street school. The only thing he did for her was to send an occasional -box of candy, or a book, like any other brother. Davis did not even -save his money. He blew it in on himself and his friends, like any -other natural young man. What do you suppose he worked so hard for if -it were not to go in with the rest of the club for coaches at -Thanksgiving games, and to take runs to Philadelphia over Sunday, and -to give spreads in his room on Saturday nights, and to do the other -things for which one has sore need of money and for which he goes -broke for about twenty days of each month? If Davis had been a modern -undergraduate he would perhaps have spent money on good-looking -clothes, though I hardly think that of him. - -The only disadvantage in his way of living was that it took time, so -that he did not have as much of it to loaf in as he would have liked. -Especially as he was mixed up in half-a-dozen outside interests of the -college world, and had a provokingly high stand in class to maintain -besides. For although the fellows used to say he kept on leading his -class from force of habit, as a matter of fact it took considerable -valuable time. - -The worst of it was that he had to do his reviewing up regularly week -by week, for he was of no account at cramming all night for exams, he -said. Perhaps this was true. When the crowd used to gather in -half-undressed condition with wet towels around their heads and wild -looks on their faces, Dougal generally stretched out upon the divan -and drummed on a banjo, with his eyes half closed and a pipe in his -mouth, and listened to the others quizzing and getting excited, and at -twelve o'clock, except on rare occasions, he said good-night, and went -to bed and slept like a child, and the next day would saunter into -Examination Hall as fresh as a spring term Sunday, and write the best -paper in the class. It is in this way that many fellows remember him -best. - -The reason he never seemed to be especially rushed was that he had the -knack of arranging his time, and had learned while still in college -that there are a great many moments in twenty-four hours. He went to -breakfast before chapel, and he crammed a great deal into those odd -hours that come between lectures, which most fellows spend in making -up their minds what to do, and he found he better appreciated a loaf -on Saturday night if he put in most of the daylight in work. It was in -that way he managed to find time to keep up his Hall work and attend -to his _Princetonian_ duties and committee meetings and write orations -and essays, besides managing one of the clubs and turning out an -average of one thousand words of copy a day in time to catch the -afternoon mail. - -And it was in this way that he managed to keep from breaking down -under it. When the bell in North struck five he always tossed aside -his book and ran down the stairs three steps at a time and yelled, -"Hello, Tommy Tucker," or "Billy Nolan," or somebody with all his -might, and with him took a rattling hard walk--not down Nassau Street, -but 'cross country--or else an hour's pull at the weights in the -gymnasium with a cold shower-bath and a hard rub at the end of it, and -then walked tingling with health and content to the club, when he ate -the largest meal of anyone there--except when big Stehman was back -from the training-table. - -After this he stretched his legs far under the table and leaned his -head against the back of the chair, and there lingered with the coffee -and gossip, blowing beautiful smoke rings for an hour. He had been -known to refuse a $5 tutoring offer for this hour, just as he had once -sacrificed an elective course in Greek philosophy for the five o'clock -one. - -During the past year Davis had been making up his mind to a few -things. One of them was that he would go out to the foreign field. He -could not say that he felt himself called to it. He did not sign the -pledge that was circulated about in the colleges at that time as the -"Student volunteer movement." - -Ever since he could remember he had intended to be a preacher, though -there was a period, which came about the same time as his first pair -of trousers, when he thought he would rather be a dragoman with a -fierce mustache and big buttons. And now he came to the conclusion -that he would become a foreign missionary, like his father. - -He felt that he was pretty well suited to the work and would make a -success of it. He had a strong constitution, a good voice, and -adaptability to circumstances. He knew pretty well by nature how to -get at people, and the summer spent slumming down in Rivington Street, -New York, had taught him considerably more. Besides, he already had -the language down fine, and could stumble along tolerably well with -two of the low dialects. - -What is more, he thought he would like it. He did not tell himself -that it was noble to go and bury himself way out there, for there -wasn't any burying about it. He liked the climate and expected to have -a good time in Persia, with a man-servant to bow low and make his -coffee in the morning, and to fill his big, long pipe every evening, -and he pictured himself on a horse riding beside a certain blue river -with peculiar big trees along the bank quite as often as saving souls. - -At least this is the way he used to talk in pow-wows in fellows' -rooms. But there were certain long-faced friends of his that -misunderstood when he talked in this manner. - - * * * * * - -The salutatorian was not troubling himself about that just now, as he -sat there on the stage resting his chin on one hand and fanning -himself with a programme in the other. He had been idly listening to -Nolan as he thundered and perspired about Purity in Politics. For his -part he preferred gamey Billy Nolan, the all-round athlete, to earnest -William the orator. Nervous little poler Stacy was now straining his -lungs with his well-committed plea for the Greek Ideal. Davis was not -following it very closely. He glanced down at his classmates in the -front rows. He knew that before the day was over he was going to feel -pretty sad. That was not troubling him very much now either. But every -time he looked down there a certain thing bobbed up and spoiled the -pleasant taste in his mouth. It was hardly worth getting uncomfortable -over. This was the way it had begun, long ago last fall, as they sat -around the table after dinner talking football. And you can see how -ridiculous it was to worry about it. - -Davis was holding forth at some length with considerable earnestness, -as he had a perfect right to do, of course, and Jim Linton had not -joined in the discussion. He seldom did. He was quietly sipping his -coffee at the end of the table and looking quizzically interested. - -Presently he interrupted. "Oh, Dougal," he said. He had arisen to go -and was refilling his pipe. - -Dougal stopped short. "Yes?" he said in an intense tone. - -Linton looked at him a moment, folded up his pouch, put it in his -pocket, and struck a match. - -Then he said, between puffs, "I'd a little rather you would not get -excited, Dougal," and started off for the billiard-room. - -It was nothing but a bit of ordinary club chaff such as passes back -and forth every day, and Linton forgot the occurrence before he -finished chalking his cue. But Dougal's cheeks had flushed crimson, -and before he knew what he was saying he had come out with a muttered -remark in which the word "gentleman" was loud enough for all at the -table to hear, and that is a very awkward word to handle sometimes. - -That was the reason no one said anything for a moment. Silences were -rare in that room. He did not go on with the discussion of the -defective coaching system. Nor did the others. - -A little later as he started for the campus old Jack Stehman joined -him and said, in his sober, conscientious way, "Say, Dougal, you had -no business saying what you did about Jimmy. Of course you didn't mean -it, but you had better apologize, don't you think?" - -Davis said he did not look at it in that way, and changed the subject. -Before he got to sleep that night he saw what a fool he had made of -himself, and made up his mind to apologize to Linton before the whole -table. But that was in the middle of the night. - -The next day there were guests at the club. The following day Linton -dined out. The day after that Davis tried to make himself do it as -they sat about the fireplace, but he postponed it until some time when -his heart was not beating so loud, for he did not feel himself called -upon to make a scene before the whole club. When he thought over what -he meant to say it all seemed very ridiculous, and he blushed at the -thought of it. Linton of all fellows would dislike any slopping over -of this sort. So he changed his mind and decided to speak to Linton -alone about it. - -But it was a very hard thing for a man like Davis to talk to a man -like Linton about a thing like this. There was something about Linton -that he did not understand. He was the one man that made him -self-conscious. He always felt as though Linton saw through him and -understood how ambitious he was, and was laughing at him for his -strenuous struggling. He told himself that he did not propose to be in -awe of a lazy dilettante who thought himself a clever reader of human -nature. But that did not help him to apologize. And the longer he put -it off the harder it became, naturally. And the longer he put it off -the more he found to dislike in Linton, which was also natural, only -you would not have thought this of Davis. - -After a while he began wondering how he had taken to Linton in the -first place, and why the other fellows liked him so much. Every time -they were together he began comparing himself with him. By most -standards Davis ought to have been satisfied. Linton himself never -seemed to think of comparison. He seemed to calmly take it for granted -that Dougal was a wonderful man, and often referred to it as an -acknowledged fact. He seemed to be glad to speak of it. But he had a -way of making fellows love him that was galling to the man that led -the class. - -All the college bowed down to Dougal Davis; not twenty under-classmen -knew who Linton was. But Timberly and Reddy Armstrong and Jack Stehman -had a way of throwing an arm about lazy Linton, whom they loved, that -it did not occur to them to do with the wonderful Dougal Davis, whom -they admired. Davis wanted that love. He wanted everything. You see he -had quite a disposition to contend with. - -So he kept on having disagreeable times with himself and the -conscience which would not let up. Finally he made up his mind to -patch it all up on Commencement Day, and he had hit upon a plan by -which he could make just amends to Linton, he told himself, and duly -punish himself at the same time, and then he could graduate in peace. - -Meanwhile he would have to stop thinking about that and walk down from -the stage with the other Commencement speakers, for Charles Benjamin -Howard had finished telling people about the Utility of Difference, -and the orchestra was playing "Ta-ra-ra boom de ay." - -There was an intermission of ten minutes now. After that would come -the announcement of prizes and the conferring of degrees, then -Smith's valedictory, followed by the benediction, and then the class -would walk out into the world with their little diplomas under their -arms tied with pretty ribbons. - -The audience changed their positions and looked about at the other -people there, whispered to each other, and went to fanning again. Some -of the fathers looked at their watches and yawned and wished -Commencement was over with behind their programmes, and fell to -thinking about things in the office which they had come here to -forget. - -Other old grads. smiled kindly, and remembered how they used to do -when they were in college. The young alumnus looked pityingly at the -graduating class in the front rows and thought how little these boys -knew about the big world he knew so much of. - -Meanwhile the juniors and the lower classmen were very active and -noisy in the rear of the old church. The Whig men were gathering on -the left-hand side, and Clio Hall on the right. Many reinforcements -were arriving that had not been near the church during the other -exercises. The aisles became jammed. The seats were already so. - -Suddenly a man jumped up on a pew, and screamed, "Now, fellows! Clio -Hall, this way! Hip-hip!" - -"Clio Hall--this way!" came out with startling force from many -throats. - -This woke everyone up, and those that had never been there before were -a little shocked for a moment. The loud voices echoed strangely -against the old walls and among the old pillars and under the old -galleries, which by the way are used to all this and weren't surprised -a bit. No doubt they miss it these days. - -Then the left-hand side of the church raised its voice and said, "Whig -Hall, this way! Whig Hall this wa-ay!" in still fiercer tones. Then -Clio called itself together again, and then Whig Hall cheered and so -did Clio, and gave a long cheer and so did Whig. Then both cheered for -themselves at once, and tried to drown each other out, and succeeded. -They kept this up until time was called. That is, the clerk of the -board of trustees arose and stretched his long neck and began to -announce the prizes from a long list in his hand. This was -interesting. - -Whenever he read out an award in his strong voice, it was met with a -tremendous cheer from the Hall whose member won the prize. It mattered -not whether the honor was one for which a literary society's training -could count; they cheered anyway, whether it was a fellowship in -modern languages or a prize in the School of Science draughtsmanship. -Nor did it matter whether the man had never since the first week after -his initiation worked the combination lock of the Hall door. They -cheered him anyway. And when the two societies were in doubt as to -which he belonged to, they both cheered. It made magnificent noise. - -There are a great many of these prizes. One has no idea until -Commencement comes that there are so many advertised in the catalogue; -and the clerk read each one out in a loud voice, and then waited for -the cheering to cease. - -Dougal Davis had heard his name announced three times, and each time -the cheer rang out from the enthusiastic throng in the rear he felt -the little echoing thrill inside of him. - -Once as he stepped down from the platform he caught a glimpse of a man -leading the cheer for him. The man's back was turned, but he saw him -standing there 'way up on the railing of the pew in his excitement, -and he saw his arms vigorously jerking out the cheer. - -Davis was used to this sort of thing and he held his features very -well, though as he marched up for the third time he felt rather -foolish, for the audience were smiling audibly at the sight of Dougal -Davis, of Persia, running off with so many prizes. Timberly asked him -when he came down, "Why don't you stay up there, Dougal? I'd sit on -the edge platform and swing my legs." - -It was only at the announcement of the Lynde prize debate that he felt -at all tremulous. His friends kept telling him that he was sure of it, -but he felt that he would not get it. This is, as everyone knows, the -greatest inter-Hall prize offered, and many people consider it the -greatest honor of a college lifetime. It was quite enough for a fellow -to feel weak at the stomach over. Dougal kept repeating under his -breath, "What's the difference, what's the difference?" and he -reminded himself that there were a second and a third prize as well as -the first, and that any way, even if he won none of them, it was a -pretty fine thing to have secured the appointment from his Hall. -Besides, he was doing so many things that he could afford to drop an -honor or two. - -"The Lynde Prize Debate," came in the resonant tones of the tall, -gaunt clerk. Everything was very still. - -The cheerers were silent. The two leaders were standing on tip-toe, -each with his elbows doubled up and mouth half open, ready to begin -the cheer. One of them, however, would have to keep still. Dougal shut -his lips. - -"First prize awarded to Dougal Davis, of Pers----" - -Then came the loud, eager "'Ray! 'Ray! 'Ray!'" of the quick cheer, and -then two more quick ones, and next a long one with "Davis!" on the -end, then the word "Davis! Davis! Davis!" that way, three times. Then -they began giving more quick cheers again and a few long ones, as if -they had just started. - -Meanwhile the clerk kept his sober gaze upon the paper in his hand, -waiting to announce the second and third winners and pretending to be -annoyed at the delay, though enjoying it as much as any girl in the -audience. - -"Good work, Dougal, good work," cried one of the four fellows pounding -him on the back. - -Dougal did not smile slightly or look unconcerned. He grinned all over -his face and enjoyed it. As soon as the attention was taken away from -him he leaned back in the corner of the pew and enjoyed it some more. -That is the way to do. - -He was still tense and excited from his victory when a few minutes -later he heard the clerk reading off something about the new -fellowship in Political Science. This was the one he had gone in for, -and he had felt doubtful over the result, because he had not been able -to spend as much time upon it as he wanted to, and it required a great -deal. However, the only other man in the race was nothing to be afraid -of. But all the same a little dart of dread shot through him now, and -he thought what if he should lose it after all. It would not do at -all. This was what he wanted more than any of the honors. He had a -particular reason for wanting to win it. This he failed to do. - -Before he was quite aware of what was taking place the clerk had -already made the announcement and the crowd were wildly cheering, -cheering that other fellow as if they had never heard of Dougal Davis. -He felt like a man that steps off a bridge in the dark; he heard the -splash and felt a shock, but he did not know just what had happened. -He had never been beaten in anything before. It came very hard. But -that was not what made it hurt so much. It was because Linton had won -it. - -He could not help thinking of the little speech he had planned to make -that evening--"Well, you see, Jimmie, I haven't time for it, anyway. I -have to go to the Seminary, and maybe to the Medical College after -that. So I thought I would resign, and I hope you'll apply for it and -come back to the old place for another year. You're sure to get it, -if you apply for it." Wasn't it a pretty little speech? - -He turned and glanced over at Linton, who sat with his head nestled -contentedly against Reddy Armstrong's shoulder, while the -happy-looking fellows all around him were punching and pounding him -and rumpling up his hair as if they never would cease; and as if they -were glad Dougal Davis was beaten. Linton himself only raised his -eyebrows and shook his head deprecatingly. He seemed to take it all -very easily, as if he were accustomed to winning prizes and beating -Dougal Davis, and he still wore that imperturbable look, and Davis -knew that it would have been just as imperturbable and contented -looking if he had lost. - -And this spoiled the salutatorian's day of triumph. He did not glance -back now to where his sister and aunt were sitting. He forgot to -unroll his sheepskin as the others did when they came down from the -stage with them. He blew his breath through it against the palm of his -hand and looked absent-mindedly at the scratched paint of the -old-fashioned pew. He remained thus all through Smith's valedictory, -except once when the speaker stretched out both arms and the class -arose; then he listened for a moment and said, "Biff!" under his -breath. When it was all over he passed out with his class and through -the gazing throng, thinking not of the much that he had won, but only -of the one thing he had lost, and this was unfortunate, because much -people were looking at him and thinking how fine it was to be Davis, -and that is fame, and it was too bad to miss it. - - * * * * * - -Linton had no ambition and he colored meerschaum beautifully. He was -usually mum in a crowd, but he was fine company on a long -cross-country walk, and he knew more about ordering a dinner than any -man on the campus, except one of the faculty. - -When he did not want you in his room he told you so, and he was the -kind of a fellow you would do anything for after you came to know him. - -He had a very efficient sense of humor, which does not mean that he -said funny things at the table. Some people thought him sarcastic. But -many fellows went to him for advice or sympathy, and it was not only -because he could keep his mouth absolutely closed. - -Linton had a walking acquaintance with every road, lane, and pathway -within a radius of twenty miles of the campus. He knew how long it -took to cover any route, and where there were good places to stop and -rest, especially the quaint ones where they served it in mugs. - -Here he used to sit and sip and smoke the golden afternoon away, -dreaming of how it all must have been years ago in the old stage coach -days when the horses drew up on the clattering cobble-stones and the -passengers alighted and looked about and asked how many more miles it -was, and the red-faced driver jumped down from the box and swaggered -into the tap-room, and called for a pint of ale, and told the landlord -how bad the pike was near New Brunswick. - -He considered himself somewhat of an artist. There were ever so many -bits that he was fond of showing you if he thought you could -appreciate them; like the bend in the canal up toward Baker's basin, -with peculiar water and willow-coloring in springtime. Linton said it -was like a French water-color. He used to carry a gun over his -shoulder, and say he was going snipe-shooting; really it was to look -for things like this, and get up a big appetite for dinner. He could -also point out a view of gentle hills and rolling green fields on the -way to Kingston that was a good imitation of English landscape, he -said, and he knew just where the tower of the School of Science ought -to make an effect through treetops, like the view of Magdalen tower -from a point in Addison's walk, if it were only beautiful Gothic -instead of ugly Renaissance. But perhaps all this was merely to show -that he had once canoed down the Thames from Oxford to London. - -He was very well up in the ancient history of the town, also. He knew -all about most of the old houses, and he had sketches of the best of -the old brass-knockers and colonial doorways. It is said that he used -to prowl about on moonlight nights for this purpose. Small -window-panes were another thing he was insane over. He had substituted -for the ordinary panes of his windows, dingy little square ones with -thick frames painted black. Some of the fellows said the reason he did -this was to be odd. Linton blew smoke, and said yes, that was the -reason. - -But it was the old campus that he loved the most. He knew just about -all there was to find out about it, and dreamed a great deal more. - -He had ever so many favorite aspects, such as the one of the back of -the Dean's house--with small, square window-panes--from away over at a -point between Whig and Clio Halls, and the rear view of Prospect -across the stretch of sloping meadow toward the canal, and a number of -congenial little spots that meant something to him, like the stone -buttress at the bottom of the tower of Witherspoon, a great place to -warm your back against in spring sunshine, with the blue smoke -trickling lazily from your mouth and the fellows batting up flies on -the old diamond; and then for midnight chats there were the smooth -steps of chapel with the elms saying things in low tones overhead. But -those midnight chats were all over now. It was Commencement Day, and -it was the saddest thing that had ever happened to Linton. - -He was not at all anxious to spring forth into the world and battle -with opportunity and all the other things that the class-day speakers -and the valedictorian said that he was going to do. He thought this -little world was good enough for him, and there wasn't much spring in -him. - -Ever since he could read he had been told that youth was the happiest -time in life, and he had come to the conclusion that it must be so. He -did not like the idea of giving it up. He had become well settled -where he was, and had just gotten rid of a persistent siege of -kid-pessimism--of which he was now very much ashamed--and was just -beginning to realize what a big, beautiful, real thing friendship was, -and now--Jack and Timber and Billy and Red, where would they all be in -three days' time? It seemed pretty sudden, this thing of breaking up. - -And there was very little comfort to him in the thought of coming back -next year. What would the old place be without the old class. He did -not like to think about it. - -It struck the class as a pretty joke for Jimmie Linton to bob up and -win a fellowship. "How did you happen to do it?" said Tucker, on the -way out of church. "I didn't know you had any brains." - -"Didn't you?" said Linton; "I've quite a lot of them. And I worked -like a good little boy for that fellowship; but nobody will give me -any credit for it. They all know that if Dougal hadn't been too busy -with other things, I would have had no show." He was quite right. -There was nothing modest in this. Dougal Davis had about as good -powers of acquisition as anyone graduated since the time of Aaron -Burr. - -Political science was not strictly in Linton's line. He wrote things -for the Lit., and elected all the English courses. He was a great -browser in Elizabethan literature, and when he dabbled in verse this -was evident. One of the exchanges once called him a nineteenth century -Herrick. Linton felt right pleased, and wrote something nice about the -University of Virginia man that said it in the next Lit., and also -made it an excuse to give one of his famous spreads. You would have -expected him to go in for an English fellowship, if for any. But he -did not go in for any deliberately. He was not in the habit of -studying his courses more than enough to get through the examinations, -except when he ran across something he was interested in, or a -professor he liked. There are many excuses for laziness. - -In Political Economy, and such subjects, he liked the lecturer very -much, and he found himself becoming interested in the primitive man, -and the origin of society, and all that. The farther he went in the -course, the more interested he became. He went to the library, and -often walked past the Elizabethan alcove. Next he began buying the -books, because he liked to feel that he owned them, and rub them up -against his cheek, and he soon had a shelf full of Bagehot and big, -thick Sir Henry Maine and others. - -Then because he had never done anything serious during his course, and -because he knew it would please his people and amuse the fellows, he -announced his intention of trying for the Political Science -fellowship. There was no one else in for it. - -He went about it scientifically, and was surprised to find how much -enthusiasm he had aroused in himself. He had never known before what a -fine thing study was. He said he wished he had done more of it during -his college course. - -He was surprised when he heard a few weeks later that Dougal Davis was -in the field. Historical work he thought was still further out of -Davis's line. But he only rolled over on the divan and went on -reading. For he argued thus: "I like this stuff and I don't see how it -can hurt me to learn a lot about something. If I don't fetch a -fellowship I won't have to correct examination papers. I'd hate to -correct examination papers." - -One day at the club he asked Dougal--he sat opposite--what he wanted -with political science. Davis cleared his throat and said every -preacher of modern times should know something of sociology, which was -undoubtedly true. But that was not the reason. And somehow Linton -guessed it. - - * * * * * - -It was twilight and the class had gathered together on the steps of -Old North for their last senior singing. Only they were no longer -seniors; it was "by and by" now, and they were out in the "wide, wide -world." They huddled up close together as if half frightened at the -thought of its being the last time. - -There were but few undergrads. stretched out under the elms to listen, -and most of these were the juniors--seniors they were now--waiting to -rapaciously take possession of the steps the moment the present -occupants marched off for their last supper together at nightfall. -These and a handful of the out-of-town visitors were all that were -left of the big Commencement crowds that had been gathering there -every evening to hear the seniors sing. Sometimes they had felt that -they would have preferred being left a little more to themselves, if -it were possible, during the last days of college life. - -But now this unmolested aloneness only added to their dreariness and -made them feel the ghastly certainty of this evening's being the end -of all. The grass was trampled and faded, and the crowd that had -trodden it was gone. The bell in Old North belfry rang out painfully -loud. - -"Well, fellows, let's sing," said the leader, rising slowly. He raised -his chin and then bobbed his head and started up, "The Orange and the -Black," just as they had all seen him do many times before. - -They sang as they had never sung before. It did not matter what were -the words of the song. "They stole his wallet, they stole his staff," -had nothing in it that was especially apropos of college friendships -or the sadness of farewell, but the way they sang it, with the -long-drawn "Ramski Ho," meant something. It was so full of -association. And no one noticed this time whether the man behind him -was on a key of his own. His only thought was, "When shall I hear -Billy's good old bark again after to-night?" And when Sam's and when -Ed's and Big Hill's and Little Hill's and where would be the fellow a -year from now whose shoulder was next to his own. - -During the past month or two the class of Ninety Blank had been drawn -very close together by the thought of what was coming. They had never -been very seriously cliqued up, but what there was of dissension was -forgotten, and they were now one solid crowd. Fellows who had never -anything to do with each other before except to say, "Hello, there, -Ray!" and "Hello, Harry!" had taken to strolling around the campus -together arm-in-arm talking about what they were going to do next year -and wondering why they had never happened to see more of each other in -the past, and regretting that there were to be no opportunities for -doing so in the future. - -But during the excitement of Commencement week, with the crowds of old -grads. and of girls and the big baseball game and the concerts and -Class Day full of its exhibition farewells in the church and around -the cannon, and the teas and the big dance on Tuesday night, and the -many other things that filled up every moment of every day and -night--together with the responsibility of seeing to the entertainment -of their guests--all this, and the feeling of importance at being the -cause of so much color and sound had in a measure distracted their -minds from the thought of what it all meant. But now all that was -changed. - -The last of the display ceremonies was finished. The class had their -diplomas. It was all over. The rollicking old grads. with their many -reunions and their old-fashioned cheers and their funny songs had left -for the city and business again for a year. The girls and their -mothers and their parasols had vanished like the chinese lanterns -among the trees. The campus was almost deserted, and except for their -own voices, was as still as a cemetery. Each man on the steps was -realizing as he never had done before how glad had been those four -years, and how startlingly fast they had sped by, and how much more -these friends of his meant to him than he had ever imagined friends -could mean. - -Two of the number had been obliged to pack their trunks and depart -during the afternoon without waiting for the banquet. The whole class -were at the station to see them off. They did it in the old-fashioned -way, with much cheering and singing, and the old custom of lifting -them up and putting them through the car windows. Then after each man -had shaken the hands of those departing, and said, "God bless you, -Tommy," they had watched while the little train rolled down the grade -and became smaller and smaller, and they cheered until the two men -waving their hats on the rear platform were hidden behind the curve. -Then they marched solemnly back across the campus again, and tried to -go on with the packing of their own trunks. - -But few had been able to remain very long in the lonely, old, familiar -dens. There were too many things to suggest the old times which sent -big wedges into throats, and they realized that there were to be few -enough opportunities of being with those fellows out under the trees -to waste time in dreary packing. "It's too deuced hot up there in my -room," said Harry Lawrence to Billy Nolan. - -For the most part they had spent the afternoon in silent, moody -wanderings, in groups of twos and fours and half dozens, all about the -old, dear, familiar landmarks of the campus. Now at evening they were -gathered together as a body again. This was to be the last time. And -that thought kept recurring to each man on the steps. - -It was about dusk now. The front campus was wrapped in that strange -half-glow that sometimes comes at late senior singing time. It was -very much in keeping with other elements of the scene, and it had its -effect upon the fellows. - -Old North seemed solemn and dignified, but somehow more gentle and -caressable than formerly. Even the old elms, who have seen this thing -happen so many, many times, ceased whispering for a space and -listened. John, the college policeman, left Reunion for his home down -William Street, and Sam, the night watchman, said, "Good-night, John," -and took his place. Bill Leggett took down his lantern and started -around to light the campus lamps as he always did at this hour. The -village street seemed far off, and its lights and its bit of life -seemed part of another world. There was a pause in the singing. - -It lasted a long time. Tucker scratched a match on the stone steps. -The crack seemed very loud. Those near by turned and watched him light -his pipe and watched him throw the match to the ground. It kept on -burning for a little while. They watched it until it went out. - -Presently Doc. Devereaux, the leader, said, "Fellows, there are a lot -of chairs and benches scattered about. Let's drag them up here in -front of the steps and make a circle." They all arose and did it as if -it had been a command. - -The rattling of the chairs against each other sounded harsh and -discordant, and yet no one seemed to want to lessen it. Some of the -fellows laughed and joked a little, as though they weren't thinking of -anything serious. It made a large circle. They sat down in comparative -silence. The Class President arose and said, "Say, fellows, let's sing -'Here's to you, my jovial friend,' all around the class, and each man -stand up while we're singing to him." - -They started with the President and went around to the left. You know -that drinking song. It's a simple little salute, but there's more -heart in its swelling high notes than in anything ever written. But -perhaps that is because of its association. - -"Here's to you, Jack Stehman," they sang. - - "Here's to you, my jovial friend, - And we'll drink with all our heart, - For sake of company-- - We'll drink before we part, - Here's to you, Jack Stehman." - -Stehman, the President, had arisen when his name was called, and -remained standing while the song was carried through. The big fellow -seemed to loom up bigger than ever in the half dark. He arose with his -old, well-known slouch, and the sight of this little characteristic -brought up to every one of them the whole big, lovable personality of -the man. - -He started to look around at the fellows and smile as they began to -sing, but the clear, warm notes rang out, "We'll drink before we -part," and he changed his mind and looked down at the grass under his -feet. He was not embarrassed. He merely preferred looking down. It was -so different from Class Day, when he had made his much-applauded -President's address, and told people in his nice set speech about the -sadness of farewell and the beauty of the elms. He was the one all the -girls had asked the most questions about. The class censor had guyed -him about his brand new dignity and his good looks. Nobody was -feeling like guying him now. - -Little Stacy sat next. He did not stand up very high. There was not -much to him. He had been a poler all through the course, and you would -not have expected the thing to affect him very much, but you could see -his thin hands working nervously along the edge of his coat as he -looked about at the half-darkened crowd of faces, and he smiled his -foolish, little, self-conscious smile. The little chap had no idea -that they would ever sing to him in that way, and when he heard Harry -Lawrence's strong bass come out with "And we'll drink with all our -heart," he fairly quivered. When he sat down the President reached a -big arm about him. - -Then came Reddy Armstrong. He was not very tall either. He stood up -very straight and stiff with his round, freckled face screwed up into -funny twists. He only stared straight ahead into nothing. He looked -dazed. He was dazed. He had been through some very queer things that -day. "Poor little Red," thought Linton as he looked at him. - -All around the big circle went the song until it ended with Timberly, -who sat on Stehman's right. By this time it was too dark to see -Timberly's queer features. Perhaps it was just as well. - -"Now," said the President, simply, "let's all cross hands and sing -'Auld Lang Syne.' Doc., start it up, please." - -They arose, and each man gave his right-hand comrade his left hand, -and his left-hand comrade his right, and they sang the good old song -in the good old way, with the clasped hands swinging far up and down -in time to the music. - -Presently the song was finished. It seemed to stop suddenly. They all -waited a moment in silence to see whether the leader had another verse -to begin. - -But he did not. Jack Stehman stepped out into the middle of the ring. -"Now, fellows," he said, "let's give three good rousing cheers for the -dear old class--God bless every man in it--and then we'll give up the -steps to the juniors--the seniors I mean--and march four abreast to -the dinner. Are you ready? Hip! hip! ... another one--Hip! hip!" - -Linton was standing apart over beside the steps. His back was turned -toward the others. - -While the rest were cheering, Dougal Davis crossed over to him. - -"Jim," he said, "I haven't congratulated you yet on winning the -fellowship." - -Linton kept on looking at the newly planted class ivy. His hands were -in his pockets and his legs spread apart. - -"Did you notice that I hadn't, Jim?" - -Linton turned around suddenly. "Oh, yes, I noticed it. But that was -this morning." He put his hand on Davis's shoulder as in junior year. - -"Shut up, Dougal," he said; "we haven't any time to waste in talk." - -"All right," said Dougal. "Don't let's be left behind. They are -starting." He laughed a little. It was a foolish-sounding laugh. -Linton did not observe that. He laughed also, in very much the same -way. - -They stepped in line with the others and marched off the campus -singing, with all their might, - - "Nassau! Nassau! Ring out the chorus free. - Nassau! Nassau! Thy jolly sons are we. - Care shall be forgotten, all our sorrows flung away, - While we are marching thro' Princeton." - - - - -BRIEF LIST of Books of Fiction Published by Charles Scribner's Sons, -153-157 Fifth Avenue, New York. - - -_William Waldorf Astor._ - -=Valentino:= An Historical Romance. 12mo, $1.00. =Sforza:= A Story of -Milan. 12mo, $1.50. - -"The story is full of clear-cut little tableaux of mediæval Italian -manners, customs and observances. The movement throughout is spirited, -the reproduction of bygone times realistic."--_The New York Tribune._ - - -_Arlo Bates._ - -=A Wheel of Fire.= 12mo, paper, 50cts.; cloth, $1.00. - -"The novel deals with character rather than incident, and is evolved -from one of the most terrible of moral problems with a subtlety not -unlike that of Hawthorne."--_The Critic._ - - -_W. H. Bishop._ - -=A Pound of Cure.= 12mo, $1.00. - -"A powerful and purposeful story, clean and strong and interesting -throughout."--_The Churchman._ - - -_Hjalmar H. Boyesen._ - -=Falconberg.= Illustrated. 12mo, $1.50. =Gunnar.= Sq. 12mo, paper, 50 -cts.; cloth, $1.25. =Tales from Two Hemispheres.= Sq. 12mo, $1.00. =Ilka -on the Hill Top=, and Other Stories. Sq. 12mo, $1.00. =Queen Titania.= -Sq. 12mo, $1.00. =Social Strugglers.= 12mo, $1.25. - -"Mr. Boyesen's stories possess a sweetness, a tenderness and a -drollery that are fascinating, and yet they are no more attractive -than they are strong."--_The Home Journal._ - - -_Robert Bridges._ - -=Overheard in Arcady.= 12mo, illustrated, $1.25. - -"The cleverest book of the year. Aside from the humor, it is a keen -and subtile criticism of living authors."--_Atlanta Constitution._ - - -_Noah Brooks._ - -=Tales of the Maine Coast.= 12mo, $1.00. - -"They are all good; 'Pansy Pegg' is a classic. Hawthorne did few, if -any, better things than 'A Century Ago.'"--_Boston Advertiser._ - - -_H. C. Bunner_. - -=The Story of a New York House.= Illustrated by A. B. Frost. 12mo, -$1.25. =The Midge.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =Zadoc Pine=, and -Other Stories. 12mo, pap., 50 cts.; clo., $1.00. - -"It is Mr. Bunner's delicacy of touch and appreciation of what is -literary art that give his writings distinctive quality. Everything -Mr. Bunner paints shows the happy appreciation of an author who has -not alone mental discernment, but the artistic appreciation."--_N. Y. -Times._ - - -_Frances Hodgson Burnett._ - -=That Lass o' Lowrie's.= Illustrated. paper, 50 cts; cloth, $1.25. -=Haworth's.= Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. =Through One Administration.= 12mo, -$1.50. =Louisiana.= 12mo, $1.25. =A Fair Barbarian.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts., -cloth, $1.25. =Vagabondia=: A Love Story. 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, -$1.25. =Surly Tim=, and Other Stories. 12mo, $1.25. =Earlier Stories.= -First Series. =Earlier Stories.= Second Series. 12mo, each, paper, 50 -cts.; cloth, $1.25. =The Pretty Sister of José.= Illustrated by C. S. -Reinhart. 12mo, $1.00. - -=Little Lord Fauntleroy.= Sq. 8vo, $2.00. =Sara Crewe.= Sq. 8vo, $1.00. -=Little Saint Elizabeth=, and Other Stories. Sq. 8vo, $1.50. =Giovanni -and the Other.= Sq. 8vo, $2.00. Illustrated by R. B. Birch. - -"Mrs. Burnett discovers gracious secrets in rough and forbidding -natures--the sweetness that often underlies their bitterness--the soul -of goodness in things evil. She seems to have an intuitive perception -of character."--RICHARD HENRY STODDARD. - - -_William Allen Butler_. - -=Domesticus.= A Tale of the Imperial City. 12mo, $1.25. - - -_George W. Cable_. - -=The Grandissimes.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts., cloth, $1.25. =Old Creole Days.= -12mo, cloth, $1.25; also in two parts, paper, each, 30 cts. =Dr. -Sevier.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. =Bonaventure.= 12mo, paper, -50 cts; $1.25. _The set, 4 vols., $5.00_. =John March, Southerner.= (_In -Press._) - -"There are few living American writers who can reproduce for us more -perfectly than Mr. Cable does, in his best moments, the speech, the -manners, the whole social atmosphere of a remote time and a peculiar -people. A delicious flavor of humor penetrates his stories."--_The New -York Tribune._ - - -_Rebecca Harding Davis._ - -=Silhouettes of American Life.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. - -"There are altogether thirteen stories in the volume, all written in -that direct, forcible style which is Mrs. Davis's distinctive merit as -a producer of fiction."--_Boston Beacon._ - - -_Richard Harding Davis._ - -=Gallegher=, and Other Stories. 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. - -"The freshness, the strength, and the vivid picturesqueness of the -stories are indisputable, and their originality and their marked -distinction are no less decided."--_Boston Saturday Gazette._ - - -_Paul Du Chaillu._ - -=Ivar the Viking.= 12mo, $1.50. - -"The story of a typical Norseman in the third and fourth centuries. -The volume is a thrilling and an interesting one."--_Boston -Advertiser._ - - -_Edward Eggleston._ - -=Roxy.= =The Circuit Rider.= Illustrated. Each, 12mo, $1.50. - -"Dr. Eggleston's fresh and vivid portraiture of a phase of life and -manners hitherto almost unrepresented in literature; its boldly -contrasted characters, and its unconventional, hearty, religious -spirit, took hold of the public imagination."--_The Christian Union._ - - -_Erckmann-Chatrian._ - -=The Conscript.= Illustrated. =Waterloo.= Illustrated. Sequel to The -Conscript. =Madame Thérèse.= =The Blockade of Phalsburg.= Illustrated. =The -Invasion of France in 1814.= Illustrated. =A Miller's Story of the War.= -Illustrated. - -_The National Novels, each, $1.25; the set, 6 vols., $7.50._ - -=Friend Fritz.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. - - -_Harold Frederic._ - -=Seth's Brother's Wife.= 12mo, $1.25. =The Lawton Girl.= 12mo, $1.25; -paper, 50 cts. =In the Valley.= Illustrated. 12mo, $1.50. =The -Copperhead.= 12mo, $1.00. =Marsena=, and Other Stories. 12mo, $1.00. - -"It is always a pleasure to welcome a vigorous new-comer in -literature, and the talents of Mr. Frederic abundantly entitle him to -this description. Mr. Frederic is a realist and his work is well -done."--_Boston Post._ - - -_Eugene Field._ - -=A Little Book of Profitable Tales.= 16mo, $1.25. - -"This pretty little volume promises to perpetuate examples of a wit, -humor and pathos, quaint and rare in their kind."--_New York Tribune._ - - -_James Anthony Froude._ - -=The Two Chiefs of Dunboy.= An Irish Romance of the Last Century. 12mo, -paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.50. - -"The narrative is full of vigor, spirit and dramatic power. It will -unquestionably be widely read, for it presents a vivid and life-like -study of character with romantic color, and adventurous incident for -the background."--_The New York Tribune._ - - -_Robert Grant._ - -=Face to Face.= 12mo, paper, 50cts.; cloth, $1.25. =The Reflections of a -Married Man.= 12 mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =The Opinions of a -Philosopher.= 12mo, illustrated, $1.00. - -"In the 'Reflections,' Mr. Grant has given us a capital little book -which should easily strike up literary comradeship with 'The Reveries -of a Bachelor.'"--_Boston Transcript._ - - -_Edward Everett Hale._ - -=Philip Nolan's Friends.= Illust'd. 12mo, paper, 50cts.; cloth, $1.50. - -"There is no question, we think, that this is Mr. Hale's completest -and best novel."--_The Atlantic Monthly._ - - -_Marion Harland._ - -=Judith.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =Handicapped.= 12mo, $1.50. -=With the Best Intentions.= 12mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. - -"Fiction has afforded no more charming glimpses of old Virginia life -than are found in this delightful story, with its quaint pictures, its -admirably drawn characters, its wit, and its frankness."--_The -Brooklyn Daily Times._ - - -_Joel Chandler Harris._ - -=Free Joe,= and Other Georgian Sketches. 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, -$1.00. - -"The author's skill as a story writer has never been more felicitously -illustrated than in this volume."--_The New York Sun._ - - -_Augustus Allen Hayes._ - -=The Jesuit's Ring.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. - -"The conception of the story is excellent."--_The Boston Traveller._ - - -_George A. Hibbard._ - -=The Governor=, and Other Stories. 12mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. - -"It is still often urged that, except in remote corners, there is -nothing in our American life which appeals to the artistic sense, but -certainly these stories are American to the core, and yet the artistic -sense is strong in them throughout."--_Critic._ - - -_Dr. J. G. Holland._ - -=Sevenoaks.= =The Bay Path.= =Arthur Bonnicastle.= =Miss Gilbert's Career.= -=Nicholas Minturn.= Each, 12mo, $1.25; the set, $6.25. =Sevenoaks= and -=Arthur Bonnicastle=. Each, paper, 50 cts. - -"Dr. Holland will always find a congenial audience in the homes of -culture and refinement. He does not affect the play of the darker and -fiercer passions, but delights in the sweet images that cluster around -the domestic hearth. He cherishes a strong fellow-feeling with the -pure and tranquil life in the modest social circles of the American -people, and has thus won his way to the companionship of many friendly -hearts."--_The New York Tribune._ - - -_Thomas A. Janvier._ - -=Color Studies, and a Mexican Campaign.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, -$1.00. - -"Piquant, novel and ingenious, these little stories, with all their -simplicity, have excited a wide interest. The best of them, 'Jaune -D'Antimoine,' is a little wonder in its dramatic effect, its ingenious -construction."--_Critic._ - - -_Henry Kingsley._ - -=Ravenshoe.= =Geoffrey Hammond.= =Austin Elliott.= 12mo. (_In press._) - - -_George P. Lathrop._ - -=Newport.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. =An Echo of Passion.= 12mo, -paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =In the Distance.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; -cloth, $1.00. - -"His novels have the refinement of motive which characterize the -analytical school, but his manner is far more direct and -dramatic."--_The Christian Union._ - - -_Brander Matthews._ - -=The Secret of the Sea=, and Other Stories. 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, -$1.00. =The Last Meeting.= 12mo, cloth, $1.00. - -"Mr. Matthews is a man of wide observation and of much familiarity -with the world. His literary style is bright and crisp, with a -peculiar sparkle about it--wit and humor judiciously mingled--which -renders his pages more than ordinarily interesting."--_The Rochester -Post-Express._ - - -_George Meredith._ - -=Lord Ormont and His Aminta.= 12mo, $1.50. - -"A novel for which the lover of literature will do well to put up his -hands and, in the words of the old grace, be 'truly thankful.'"--_Pall -Mall Budget._ - - -_George Moore._ - -=Vain Fortune.= 12mo, $1.00. - -"How a woman's previous ideas and actions will completely change when -the medium of a wild, intense love is interposed, was never more -skillfully sketched."--_Boston Times._ - - -_Fitz-James O'Brien._ - -=The Diamond Lens=, with Other Stories. 12mo, paper, 50 cts. - -"These stories are the only things in literature to be compared with -Poe's work, and if they do not equal it in workmanship, they certainly -do not yield to it in originality."--_The Philadelphia Record._ - - -_Duffield Osborne._ - -=The Spell of Ashtaroth.= 12mo, $1.00. - -"It has a simple but picturesque plot, and the story is told in a -vividly dramatic way."--_Chicago Times._ - - -_Bliss Perry._ - -=The Broughton House.= 12mo, $1.25. =Salem Kittredge=, and Other Stories. -12mo, $1.00. - -"A wonderfully shrewd and vivid picture of life in one of our hill -towns in summer."--_Hartford Post._ - - -_Thomas Nelson Page._ - -=In Old Virginia.= Marse Chan and Other Stories. 12mo, $1.25. =On -Newfound River.= 12mo, $1.00. =Elsket=, and Other Stories. 12mo, $1.00. -=Marse Chan.= Ills. by Smedley. Sq. 12mo, $1.50. =Meh Lady.= Ills. by -Reinhart. Sq. 12mo, $1.50. =A New Volume of Stories= (_in press_). - -"Mr. Page enjoys the distinction of having written the most exquisite -story of the war ('Marse Chan') which has yet appeared. His stories -are beautiful and faithful pictures of a society now become a portion -and parcel of the irrevocable past."--_Harper's Magazine._ - - -_George I. Putnam._ - -=In Blue Uniform.= 12mo, $1.00. _On the Offensive._ 12mo, $1.00. - -"An entertaining picture of life on the frontier by one who knows -whereof he is writing."--_The Churchman._ - - -_Saxe Holm's Stories._ - -=First Series.= =Second Series.= Each, 12mo, paper, 50cts.; cloth, $1.00. - -"Saxe Holm's characters are strongly drawn, and she goes right to the -heart of human experience, as one who knows the way. We heartily -commend them as vigorous, wholesome, and sufficiently exciting -stories."--_The Advance._ - - -_Stories from Scribner._ - - =Stories of New York.= - =Stories of the South.= - =Stories of the Sea.= - =Stories of the Railway.= - =Stories of Italy.= - =Stories of the Army.= - -Illustrated. Each, 16mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, 75 cts.; half calf, -$1.50. - -"Only those who have regularly read Scribner's have any idea of the -delightful contents of these volumes, for they contain some of the -best stories written for that periodical. They are exquisitely bound, -clearly printed on fine paper, and admirably illustrated."--_Boston -Times._ - - -_Robert Louis Stevenson._ - -=Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.= 12mo, paper, 25 cts.; cloth, -$1.00. =Kidnapped.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, ill., $1.25. =The Merry -Men=, and Other Tales and Fables. 12mo, paper, 35 cts.; cloth, $1.00. -=New Arabian Nights.= 12mo, paper, 30 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =The Dynamiter.= -12mo, paper, 30 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =The Black Arrow.= ill. 12mo, paper, -50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =The Wrong Box.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, -$1.00. =The Master of Ballantrae.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, ill., -$1.25. =The Wrecker.= 12mo, ill., $1.25. =Island Nights' Entertainments.= -12mo, ill., $1.25. =David Balfour.= 12mo, $1.50. - -"Stevenson belongs to the romantic school of fiction writers. He is -original in style, charming, fascinating, and delicious, with a -marvelous command of words, and with a manner ever delightful and -magnetic."--_Boston Transcript._ - - -_Charles Warren Stoddard._ - -=South Sea Idyls.= 12mo, $1.50. - -"Brimful of delicious descriptions of South Sea Island life. Neither -Loti nor Stevenson has expressed from tropical life the luscious, -fruity delicacy, or the rich wine-like bouquet of these -sketches."--_Independent._ - - -_T. R. Sullivan._ - -=Day and Night Stories.= First and Second Series. Each, 12mo, cloth, -$1.00; paper, 50 cts. =Roses of Shadow.= 12mo, $1.00. =Tom Sylvester.= -12mo, $1.50. - -"Mr. Sullivan's style is at once easy and refined, conveying most -happily that atmosphere of good breeding and polite society which is -indispensable to the novel of manners, but which so many of them -lamentably fail of."--_The Nation._ - - -_Frederick J. Stimson_ (_J. S. of Dale_). - -=Guerndale.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. =The Crime of Henry -Vane.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =The Sentimental Calendar.= -Ill. 12mo, $1.00. =First Harvest.= 12mo, $1.25. =The Residuary Legatee.= -12mo, paper, 35 cts.; cloth, $1.00. =In the Three Zones.= 12mo, $1.00. - -"No young novelist in this country seems better equipped than Mr. -Stimson is."--_The Philadelphia Bulletin._ - - -_Frank R. Stockton._ - -=Pomona's Travels.= Illustrated by A. B. Frost. 12mo, $2.00. =Rudder -Grange.= 12mo, paper, 60 cts.; cloth, $1.25. Illustrated by A. B. -Frost. Sq. 12mo, $2.00. =The Late Mrs. Null.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; -cloth, $1.25. =The Lady, or the Tiger?= and Other Stories. 12mo, paper, -50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. =The Christmas Wreck=, and Other Stories. 12mo, -paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. =The Bee-Man of Orn=, and Other Fanciful -Tales. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. =Amos Kilbright=, with Other Stories. 12mo, -paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. =The Rudder Grangers Abroad=, and Other -Stories. 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.25. =Ardis Claverden=, new -edition. 12mo, $1.50. - -"Of Mr. Stockton's stories what is there to say, but that they are an -unmixed blessing and delight? He is surely one of the most inventive -of talents, discovering not only a new kind in humor and fancy, but -accumulating an inexhaustible wealth of details in each fresh -achievement, the least of which would be riches from another -hand."--W. D. HOWELLS. - - -_Stories by American Authors._ - - -_Cloth, 16mo, 50 cts. each; set, 10 vols., $5.00; cabinet edition, in -sets only, $7.50._ - -"The public ought to appreciate the value of this series, which is -preserving permanently in American literature short stories that have -contributed to its advancement."--_The Boston Globe._ - - -_Octave Thanet._ - -=Expiation.= Illustrated by A. B. Frost. 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, -$1.00. =Stories of a Western Town.= 12mo. Illustrated by A. B. Frost. -$1.25. - -"Good, wholesome, and fresh. The Western character has never been -better presented."--_Boston Courier._ - - -_John T. Wheelwright._ - -=A Child of the Century.= 12mo, paper, 50 cts.; cloth, $1.00. - -"A typical story of political and social life, free from cynicism of -morbid realism, and brimming over with fun."--_The Christian at Work._ - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Princeton Stories, by Jesse Lynch Williams - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCETON STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 43587-8.txt or 43587-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/5/8/43587/ - -Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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