with handle of umbrella three times; at third attempt screen falls over
and Rand. flat on top of it--in short ballet dress and pink tights. His
moustache, rubber boots, and decidedly masculine arms and legs make an
excellent effect with the garb of a premiere danseuse. Ladies shriek._]
_Mrs. and_}
_Miss H._ } Mr. Randolph!
_Steve._ Jack!
_Rand._ [_nervously spreading umbrella in front of his legs_]. I--I
_beg_ your pardon. Please excuse my--my _deshabille_. [_To Hud.,
savagely_] I told you I was going to the dress rehearsal. [_Kicks
Burleigh aside_] I'll get even with you, Ned.
_Mrs. H._ Well, Steve, this has been an exciting visit. Does a college
room often furnish such incidents?
_Hud._ Well, it's all the fault of----
_Hud._ }
_Burl._ } My awful chum!
A HARVARD-YALE EPISODE.
"I'm off for New Haven to-morrow," Rattleton announced as he dropped
into Holworthy's room, where several of the "gang" were sitting. "Going
to sojourn two days in the Land of Eli."
"You are, eh?" said Burleigh. "Well, you'll have a rattling good time
down there."
"A '_smooth_' time, you mean," corrected Rattleton. "Don't you know how
to talk Elic yet?"
"I beg pardon," said Burleigh. "When you get back I suppose you will
refer to the Porc as your 'spot,' and if any of us who are not members
asks you anything about it you will cut him dead."
"Don't make any breaks down there about queer pins and extraordinary
buildings," said Stoughton.
"They _are_ funny about those things, aren't they?" replied Rattleton.
"But I have no doubt they can laugh just as much at us about lots of
things."
"Of course they can," asserted Holworthy. "_Vide_ the Dickey. That
institution is quite as absurd as anything they do down there."
"Nonsense, Hol," protested Stoughton; "whoever thinks up here of taking
the Dickey seriously,--except, perhaps, a few Sophomores who are fools
and snobs enough to be either cocky about getting on it or sore about
being left off. And as for awe and reverence, if there is any such
feeling at all towards the Dickey, it is confined to less than a tenth
of the Freshman class. What Senior ever cares two snaps about it one way
or the other?"
"That may be known well enough to us," answered Holworthy, "but what
does an outsider think when he sees Harvard men making such asses of
themselves, as those do who are running for the Dickey. Don't you
suppose it looks pretty childish."
"For instance," asked Hudson, "if he saw a handsome and accomplished
gentleman holding a horse and dog-cart--as I did for you--while a
low-down mucker goes in to call on the handsome gentleman's best
girl--as you did for me?"
"That was good for you," laughed Holworthy.
"Or if he saw as I did," added Burleigh, "a dignified swell, named
Hollis Holworthy, kissing all the babies he met on the street."
"Or a large and portly person," rejoined Hollis, "lying on his back in
the public square at Concord, and telling sympathetic citizens that he
was pierced by a British musket-ball. And then running in the dead of
night from Concord to Lexington, dressed in a continental uniform,
banging on the door of every farm-house with the butt of a musket until
he brought out the alarmed householder and told him that the regulars
were coming."
"Who made me do it?" retorted Burleigh.
"I acknowledge I had a hand in it," answered Holworthy. "I am
confessing, not defending. _De gustibus Sophomoris non est disputandum._
But that is no excuse. At Yale they don't disgrace their college that
way at any rate."
"They may have a lot of poppycock about their mysterious societies that
seems ridiculous to us," said Rattleton, "but they don't trouble anybody
else with it. Any way, they are good fellows, and they always give you a
royal time when you visit down there."
"Yes, they do, my child," Burleigh assented in a serious tone. "Remember
that you represent the dignity of the 'Oldest and Greatest.' Take care
that they do not make a painful exhibition of our boy."
"Ned knows," chuckled Hudson. "No one has ever been able to find out
exactly what happened to him when he stayed down there after the
ball-game last year. He came back, looking like the last hours of an
ill-spent life, with a confused story about some Yale beverage named
'Velvet' and a wonderful loving cup with no bottom, and a great many
handles."
"Hush your idle scandal," said Burleigh. "Who are you going to stay
with, Jack?"
"A first-rate fellow named Sheffield," answered Rattleton.
"What!" exclaimed Hudson, "Joe Sheffield?"
"Yes, do you know him?"
"Wow!" yelled Stoughton. "Does Steve know him! Mr. Hudson, do you know
Mr. Sheffield?"
"Shut up, Dick," said Hudson; "you promised not to tell that."
"I never promised anything of the kind," declared Dick. "I had almost
forgotten it, but I am glad I am reminded. All your friends ought to
know about it, Steve. I am sure they would be pleased."
"Hold on!" said Hudson, "if that yarn is going to be told, I prefer to
tell it myself. There is no sting in a clean breast."
"Go ahead then," said Stoughton. "I'll see that you tell it straight.
Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"It was down at Bar Harbor, last summer," Hudson began. "I was spending
two weeks with this man, Stoughton, who lives there in summer. Next to
his place there was, er--there was--er----"
"A girl," interjected Dick, putting in the spur.
"Yes, there was, and an awfully pretty one, too," declared Hudson,
defiantly. "If you will kindly refrain from interrupting, I can do this
thing myself. What I was going to say was this: alongside of Dick's
place, there was another place, and a most attractive one. There was a
beautiful view from the piazza of this house----"
"_On_ the piazza," corrected Stoughton.
"Who is telling this story?" demanded Hudson. "Shut up and let me tell
it my own way. I used to go over to look at this view every day," he
continued; "so did this Yale man, Joe Sheffield. I used to know Joe at
St. Mark's, and liked him very well, but it was rather a nuisance to see
him at that house so much. Really he overdid it; why, I used to find him
every time I went there. Finally I made up my mind that the duel was on,
and I'd see who was the better man. Of course this was purely in a
sporting spirit, you understand; I only felt it my duty to beat Yale,
that was all."
"Careful, careful," murmured Dick, warningly. "Remember,--the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"At first I tried sitting him out by fair means," Hudson went on, paying
no attention to Stoughton's side remark; "but the persistent bore outsat
me every time. He'd let me set the pace and do all the talking, and then
come in with a fresh wind on the finish and do me up. But early in the
struggle a powerful ally presented himself, the girl's small brother,
Freddy. He asked me one day why Sheffield wore that funny little pin all
the time. I have forgotten now which pin it was; but it was the symbol
of some particularly 'smooth' and secret band of brothers, and of course
Sheffield was never without it. I had been yearning to jab him on his
pin; but I knew I couldn't pretend to be innocent about it, and it would
have been a little too rude to deliberately and openly make him
uncomfortable. I told Freddy that I thought the pin had something to do
with a club at Yale, but I had no idea why Mr. Sheffield always wore it.
I suggested that he might ask Mr. Sheffield himself. It was a mean
trick, but I couldn't resist it. Freddy said he would, and I knew he was
just the boy to do it too. Freddy was of an inquiring and tenacious turn
of mind, and never dropped a research on any subject until he had found
out all there was to be learned,--he was a very fine little fellow.
"A little while after that, we three were sitting as usual on the
piazza, when my young ally came running up; as soon as he saw us he sang
out in his delightful, eager, childish way, 'Oh, Mr. Sheffield, I want
you to tell me something.' Sheffield, pleasant as punch, said, 'What is
it Freddy?' You ought to have seen him when Freddy said, 'I want to know
why you always wear that funny little pin?'
"Sheffield tried to pretend in the weakest way that he didn't hear him.
The big sister told Freddy to run away and play; but Freddy was not the
lad to be bluffed that way. He laughed in a knowing way and said,
'Ha-ha, I know. It's got something to do with some club at Yale, hasn't
it? You have got some secret about it, haven't you? But _I'll_ find it
out. Nell has secrets too, but I always find 'em out.'
"Hereupon his sister told him that if he didn't mind her, and stop
making a nuisance of himself, she'd tell his father and have him
punished. He said he wasn't making a nuisance of himself and appealed to
me. 'Mr. Hudson always tells me all about the Harvard clubs, don't you,
Mr. Hudson?'
"I assured him that I didn't mind any such questions at all, and told
him (Heaven forgive and preserve me!) that if he would come and see me
at Cambridge I would make him have a first-rate time, and show him the
clubs to which I belonged.
"'There,' he said, 'you don't think I'm a nuisance either, do you, Mr.
Sheffield? Isn't there a club at Yale called the Skull and Keys? I know
there is, 'cause I once heard Nell say she wondered how----'
"His sister grabbed him and said 'Stop' so severely that she managed to
choke him off for a moment. But it had got too hot for Joe. He suddenly
remembered that he had an engagement at three, at the Kebo Valley Club,
and retreated, leaving the Crimson to wave alone and victorious over the
field.
"Then how that girl did go for Freddy! He went off almost crying. I
tried to stand up for the little man, and remarked how ridiculous the
Yale men were about their societies. She didn't agree with me very
heartily. She said it was a relief to see some young men take at least
something seriously, and intimated that she didn't believe Harvard men
were ever serious about anything, or had any reverence in them. So for
half an hour I dilated on our great merits, and explained what worthy
young men we really are.
"Next day I tried to 'set' Freddy on again, but it was no use; he had
been temporarily sat on. I was lunching at their house, and for a wonder
Sheffield wasn't there. I asked Freddy whether he had found out about
Mr. Sheffield's club yet. He said 'No, and I can't either. Nell told on
me, and Popper said he'd spank me if I troubled older people any more. I
didn't trouble anybody, did I, Mr. Hudson? I said you had told me
yourself to ask Mr. Sheffield about his pin, and Nell said you----'
"I never knew what his sister had said about me, because, just at this
point, the old gentleman banged the table and roared, 'You eat your
lunch, sir!' and Freddy subsided.
"A day or two after that, we all went on a picnic. Even Dick, the old
hermit, came along, for a wonder. I persuaded his family it wouldn't be
polite for him to stay home, as I was his guest."
"Yes," put in Dick, "you were my guest and I was responsible for your
behavior. It wasn't the etiquette that worried my family, it was the
danger of the thing. Besides, I wanted to see you and Joe Sheffield
making fools of yourselves. You did it too, both of you. Go ahead. I
won't interrupt you again."
"We all piled into those delightful long buckboards with four or five
seats, and drove to the foot of one of the mountains. There is only one
defect in the architecture of a Mt. Desert buckboard. It holds three on
a seat. Sheffield had to shove himself in on the same seat with the
pretty neighbor, so I got in on the other side of her. I did most of the
talking during the drive."
(At points such as this during the narrative, Hudson would stop and
violently puff his cigar, while Stoughton would hug himself gleefully,
and show other signs of delight.)
"We carried the lunch up the mountain," Hudson went on, "and ate it,
along with the ants and other things, on the summit. After lunch
Sheffield managed to drop me, somehow, and I went off for a smoke with
Dick. I consulted with Machiavelli Stoughton, as to how I might again
cast down the man from Yale. I knew the crafty Dago could help me, if
any one could. Dick wished for Freddy, for Dick always knew how to use
that interesting child; but Freddy had been left weeping at home. Dago
Mac' came up to his form, though. He suddenly pointed to a cluster of
brilliant wild flowers. I said, 'Yes, very pretty. What about 'em.' Then
Dick said 'Do you see that broad rock this side of them?' It was a
smooth slab that reached from the path, about twenty feet, down to where
the flowers grew. It slanted at a good steep angle, so that a man could
barely walk down it, with rubber-soled shoes. I didn't get much
inspiration out of the rock. Then Dick showed me a blackberry vine, or
some sort of a bramble, that ran across the face of the rock a little
more than half way down it. Still I couldn't see what he was driving at.
He said to come along and he'd show me. We went to the basket where the
remains of the lunch had been stowed, and Dick took what was left of the
butter. Then we went back to the rock and the Dago greased as much as he
could of it, just above the bramble. 'Now,' he said, 'when we start back
for the buckboard, you fall in alongside of Sheffield and the
enchantress. When you get to this rock, the method is very simple,--you
show the flowers, Eli will do the rest.'
"At last I took in at a glance all the grand possibilities of the
scheme. I remembered that Joe Sheffield was very particular about his
appearance, and was dressed up to the hilt. He was always sensitive
about his clothes. I fell upon Dick's neck and wept tears of gratitude.
Then we went back to the rest of the party. Sheffield had had a monopoly
the whole afternoon."
"A corner in Paradise?" suggested Burleigh.
"Exactly," said Hudson, "or perhaps Paradise in a corner. They didn't
turn up until we had shouted for ten minutes and the party had all
started down the mountain. I ranged up alongside of the pair, thereby
breaking up the Paradise trust, and we three brought up the rear. When
we got to the point in the path, just above the prepared rock, I called
attention to the flowers, with great art. Of course she said: 'Oh, how
perfectly lovely! Oh, I must have some of those!' and of course away we
both jumped. I let Sheffield get a little ahead and then went carefully
around the rock. He bounded gallantly down the face of it until he
struck the butter. Then he sat down with a dull, sickening thud;--but he
didn't stop there. He glided merrily on, over the blackberry vine, and
in among the seductive flowers. He sat still for a minute, and I knew
the situation had dawned on him with all its hideous uncertainties. Then
he turned himself round, face to the path, and got up carefully and
slowly, with a sort of sideways motion. He didn't attempt to pick any
flowers. There was a great deal of sympathy expressed above, and
inquiries as to whether he was hurt. Meantime I had arrived safely,
picked the whole cluster of flowers, and brought them back in triumph.
Sheffield followed me up, and when we moved on, he dropped in behind; he
acknowledged the path was too narrow for three.
"On arriving at the foot of the mountain, he leaned up against a big
tree, while the buckboards were being manned. The poor girl seemed to be
very much worried about him; unnecessarily so, I thought. He assured her
that he was not in the least hurt, but he stuck to the tree
nevertheless. There was a bird's nest up in the tree, and I heard Dick
ask Sheffield to climb up and see if there were any eggs in it, to
oblige the ladies. I helped the girl into the backboard and climbed in
beside her. After every one else had got aboard, the last seat, with
Dick, was good enough for Sheffield. I ran the Paradise industry,
without competition, all the way home. There seemed to be a certain
hitch in it, however, for she kept wondering whether Sheffield was hurt.
The bunch of wild flowers dropped out on the way, and Dick and I both
jumped out and chased it; Sheffield didn't even turn around to see what
had fallen. I slapped Dick on the back as we were picking up the flowers
and said: 'She must have an opinion of his manners.' Great Scott! that
was all I knew about it!"
Here Stoughton went through the hugging pantomime for the fourteenth
time.
"She didn't seem to be very grateful when I brought those flowers back,
and wouldn't talk much all the way home. She said she was sure Sheffield
was hurt, and all on her account. When we arrived she asked him to
dinner. He stayed in the buckboard and drove to his hotel to dress. She
didn't ask me to dinner, and, by Jove, she left those flowers over which
I had taken so much trouble in the buckboard! I was very grateful to the
flowers, nevertheless."
"Well, I don't see where the joke on you comes in," said Holworthy, as
Hudson paused.
"Neither did I," answered Hudson. "I thought, in fact, that I had been
pretty clever about the whole affair, until--until," he went on,
gathering force by the repetition, "_until the engagement was
announced_! By Jove!" hurling his cigar butt into the fireplace as the
recollection grew on him, "that man and that girl had been engaged all
summer; for a week I had been playing smart Alec and steady number
three, making her hate the sight of me, while the Yale man was
undoubtedly all the time laughing in his sleeve at seeing me make a fool
of myself."
"Go on," commanded the relentless Stoughton. "Go on, there is an
epilogue,--or do you want me to tell it?"
"No, I'll do the whole thing," said Hudson, humbly. "When Dick and I
went round to call after the announcement, and congratulate Sheffield,
my little friend Freddy came running into the room. 'Oh, Mr. Hudson,' he
shouted, 'isn't it fun! Now we know why Nell got so mad about my
bothering Joe. Joe's very nice, but really I would rather have had you,
and I told her so.'"
"That wasn't all he said," remarked Dick, "but I'll let you off the
rest. I'll hold it over you for future occasions."
When Rattleton returned from New Haven a few days later, he announced at
the table that his friend Sheffield was coming up for Class Day, with
his _fiancee_. He had sent a special message to Hudson to say that they
were going to bring Freddy, because Freddy was crazy to see Harvard, and
Hudson had promised to show him all over college and take him into all
the clubs.
"Whew!" whistled Hudson; "d---- that horrid little boy."
THE DAYS OF RECKONING.
June, June, beautiful, glowing, fascinating June, no doubt thou art
tired of hearing thy charms sung by lovers more eloquent than I, but
forgive this outburst from one who has known thee in the shades of
Cambridge. Never art thou more seductive than where the old walls and
stately elm trees trace their cool outlines on the turf of the Yard,
where the earnest, eager students, prone on the greensward, blow upon
blades of grass between their thumbs, and bet on sparrow fights and
caterpillar races. The tennis-courts are alive; there are ball games on
Holmes' Field, and the river winding through the green-flowing meadow
(the tide being high and the mud covered) is dotted with swift-gliding
shells. In the long-fading twilight the bright-beflannelled and
straw-behatted groups sit upon the fences, and lounge about the streets,
trying to screw up enough energy to disperse to their rooms, and study
for the--FINALS.
Ah, June, that is the one worm i' the bud of thy beauty! It is hard,
indeed, to eschew the racquet and the oar; to go over to the Library at
an early hour and hunt up Story on the _Constitution_, or Dana's
_Wheaton_, or Ruskin's _Stones_; to find it seized, and promised to five
other men before yourself; to seek a retired alcove less hot than the
rest of the drowsy place, and there, taking off your coat, to doze over
a volume until four o'clock, when the reserved books may be taken out;
then to carry a huge book over to your room, and with an awakening
cigar, grind until dinner-time; to go at it again in the evening when
the scent of early summer drifts through the open window, together with
the singing and laughter of some inconsiderate jackass who has finished
his examinations, or does not care whether he gets through them or not.
Hard is all this, but still, oh, June, I would woo thee again in those
shades even in that wise; for, perchance, I might finish my examinations
early and then would I enjoy life to its fullest, and make it miserable
for my less fortunate friends. I would join with those who had also
finished their work, and we would have a grand reaction. We would urge
the others to join us on the river and the tennis-courts; we would sing
in the Yard of evenings, and the free would put their heads out of
window and cry "More! More!!" while the still grinding slaves would cry
"Shut up!" and other things that I should grieve to hear and will not
state; and if haply we sat upon the steps of Matthews or of Holworthy,
or any where within range, these same scurvy slaves would throw pitchers
of water and other things, even eggs kept for the purpose, until we
untrammelled souls betook ourselves elsewhere. Then would we go to the
"pop" concert, or the Howard Athenaeum, or other abode of intellectual
rest; and after that we would sup with great mirth. We would found a
recuperating club for weary minds, and as each friend threw off the yoke
and joined us, we would receive him with becoming ceremonies. Oh! the
last week before Class Day is well worth the pains of the other three.
"What is so rare as a day in June!" carolled Hudson joyfully, as he
danced into his room and thumped Burleigh on the back.
"One in February," growled that portly gentleman, "there are two less of
'em in the year. Now look here; if you are going to kick up a row
because you are all through, just get out of here, and make your
ill-timed noise somewhere else."
"Don't be so sour. Hullo, Lazy Jack; these be hard times for you, old
Butterfly. How many more have you got?"
"Five," sighed Jack. "Pol. Econ. 23, Fine Arts, Freshman English, and
two entrance conditions."
"Great Scott! The way of the transgressor _is_ hard."
"Clear out of here," commanded Burleigh. "I am coaching this man
Rattleton, and I don't want any interruption in my private tutoring. Get
out," and Ned hove a dictionary at his exuberant room-mate.
"Oh, if you are laboring with Jack, I won't interfere with the good work
of the Rattleton Rescue Mission," said Hudson, dodging the dictionary
and taking himself off to irritate some one else.
Ned Burleigh was never in such a mood about his own examinations. He was
one of the few men for whom those trials had no terrors. None of his
friends could tell exactly when he did work for an examination; it might
have been at 4 A.M. on the same morning after a supper; it might have
been on the train during an inter-exam. excursion to Newport, or on a
cat-boat cruise in the harbor. Yet he had never failed. He used to say
that to know too much about a course made the examinations mere
drudgery, but that when there was an uncertainty, then there was some
sport in the struggle, some excitement as to whether you could throw the
paper or the paper would throw you. That was all very well for him, who
generally "ragged a B." and never got "flunked," but it was a dangerous
attempt for most men to follow his example.
This year, however, Ned was devoting himself to Jack Rattleton. It was a
serious case with Jack, for he had any number of conditions to work off,
so many, in fact, that every one was rather astonished at his attempt to
retrieve his degree, and at the unwonted, desperate efforts of Lazy
Jack. It was a forlorn hope, and the betting was heavily against him.
Under any circumstances Ned Burleigh would have done all he could to
help poor Jack pull through, but, added to his unselfish interest in his
friend, were pride in his pupil and the fact that he had taken some of
the long odds against him. Nor could Jack have found a better coach in
the most high-priced tutor in Cambridge. With a thorough knowledge of
the courses he had taken, Ned combined a knowledge of the presiding
minds in those courses, and, moreover, he understood perfectly the
science of passing an examination.