Oh,here'stoTheodora,And we'reveryglad wesorher!
Oh,here'stoTheodora,And we'reveryglad wesorher!
Oh,here'stoTheodora,And we'reveryglad wesorher!
Oh,here'stoTheodora,
And we'reveryglad wesorher!
Martha Sutton waved to her and the toast-mistress thanked her for the class, and she went back—alone, because, being an older class, Ninety-green didn't need a delegate. On the way, two juniors met her, and they condoled with her cheerfully: "How do youfeel, Theo dear? Isn't it kind of dreadful? Do you keep thinking it's the last time? Goodness—I should!" One of them threw a sympathetic arm over her shoulder and looked at the moon, but Theo grinned a little and said that she was tired as a dog and that if there was one place in the world she wanted it was her room At Home. And as the juniors gaped at this matter-of-fact attitude, Theodora added, pausing at the Gym door, "Of course I've had a perfectly grand time here, and all that, but I've been here four years and that's about long enough, you know. And they want me, of course, and—I want to come! I think it gets a little—well, toward the end, you know—"
But Theo was tired, and so are seniors all, and until three or four generations of them have learned how to do it easily, so will they be.
They were doing stunts upstairs: Clara Sheldon had seen Cissie Loftus who had seen Maggie Cline who sangJust tell them that you saw me, and Clara, who was the most tailor-made and conventional creature imaginable to the outward eye, was forced by those from whose farther-reaching scrutiny she was never free, to imitate the imitator at all social functions that admitted song. She used stiff, absurdgestures and a breathy contralto that never palled upon her friends. Cynthia Lovering danced her graceful little Spanish dance for them, and Leslie Guerineau told them her best darkey story in her own delicious Southern drawl. And then there was a murmur that grew to a voice that swelled into a shout as they drummed on the table and called, "WewantDutton!WewantDutton!WewantDutton,Dutton,Dutton!"
She said no; that she'd had a toast; that they knew all her stunts by heart—but they hammered on her name with the regularity of a machine till she got up at last with a sigh and, "Well, what do you want?" They wanted a temperance lecture, and she drooped her head to one side, and with an ineffably sickly smile and a flat nasal drawl she told them "haow she'd been a-driving 'raound yourgraounds, and they'rereelpleasantly situated,too, dears, and yourPresident, such a nice,gentlemanlyman, accompanied me, and pointed aout to me yourbeeyutifulhomes and I said to him, 'Oh, what abeeyutifulthought it is that all thesehundredsof young souls are a-drinkingwater, nothing butwater, all the time and every day!'"
She was going to teach in a stuffy little school in the wilds of Maine, and Ethel Eaton,who had been taught in that school, was going to travel abroad for a year—it was a strange shuffle.
What, was it half-past eleven? Impossible! But somebody had started up their great song that had been their pet one since freshman year, and they were shouting it till the Gym rang:
Hurrah!hurrah!theyellowis ontop,Hurrah!hurrah!thepurplecannotdrop;Weare Ninety-yellowand ourfameshall neverstop,'Rah, 'rah,'rah, for theseniors!
Hurrah!hurrah!theyellowis ontop,Hurrah!hurrah!thepurplecannotdrop;Weare Ninety-yellowand ourfameshall neverstop,'Rah, 'rah,'rah, for theseniors!
Hurrah!hurrah!theyellowis ontop,Hurrah!hurrah!thepurplecannotdrop;Weare Ninety-yellowand ourfameshall neverstop,'Rah, 'rah,'rah, for theseniors!
Hurrah!hurrah!theyellowis ontop,
Hurrah!hurrah!thepurplecannotdrop;
Weare Ninety-yellowand ourfameshall neverstop,
'Rah, 'rah,'rah, for theseniors!
They sang all the verses, and then the watchman and the superintendent of buildings, waiting like sleuth-hounds to prevent any demonstration from without, gritted their teeth and dashed furiously down the wrong stairs as Ninety-green, who had softly assembled at the back of the Gym, having come from different directions, burst into the traditional tribute:
Oh,here'sto Ninety-yellow,And herfamewe'll evertell—oh!
Oh,here'sto Ninety-yellow,And herfamewe'll evertell—oh!
Oh,here'sto Ninety-yellow,And herfamewe'll evertell—oh!
Oh,here'sto Ninety-yellow,
And herfamewe'll evertell—oh!
"'Ere, 'ere! stop that now! Miss Sutton, it ain't allowed—will you please to go 'ome quietly! No, they ain't a-comin' h'out till you go—'e says they ain't!"
"Oh, come now! We aren't students any more! We can do what we like—"
"Oh, come on, girls! Don't make a fuss; we don't want to stay, anyhow!"
They sang themselves away, and the class upstairs looked around the tables and thought things, for it was time to go. And here I am afraid I shall lose whatever friends I may have gained for Theodora, for it is necessary to state that none of those comprehensive, solemn moments of farewell, known to us all to be the property of departing seniors, came to her. She was conscious of a little vague excitement, but all the last days had been more or less exciting—generally less—and her mind was occupied with irrelevant details. Had Uncle Ed remembered to change at Hartford? Had Aunt Kate packed her black evening dress? Would the post-office forward that note to the little freshman? Could she get Virginia up in time for the 9.15? Had she lost the slip with the Nicest Woman's address on it? And had she given Marietta that senior picture yet?
There had been one moment when her throat had contracted and her eyelids had crinkled: it was that very evening, when Annie, the cook, had beckoned to her in the hallof the Nicest House, and said: "There's three o' them little cakes on a plate on your table, Miss The'dora. I shan't be bakin' 'em agin, an' I know you do be terrible fond of 'em!"
"Thank you, Annie," she had said, and shaken her hand warmly. Annie had cooked fifteen years in the Nicest House, and what she and her mistress didn't know about girls you could put in a salt-spoon. It wasn't every girl that Annie liked, either.
Grace was getting up, and they stood a moment irresolutely by the chairs.
"Let's make a ring, girls, and sing once 'round, and say good-by till next year," she said; and then there was a little quick shuffling, and the carefully divided sets got together and stood as they had stood for the last two or three years. Theo took tight hold of Virginia and Adelaide, and they moved slowly around the tables, a great circle of girls, so quiet for a moment that Ninety-green, singing one another home around the campus, sounded as loud and clear as their own voices a moment ago. They listened with a common impulse as the rollickingTommy Atkinssong paused awhile under the Washburn windows; they had been very fond of Ninety-green.
Ninety-greenshe is awinner,Ninety-greenshe is astar,Is thereanythingaginher?No, wedonot think thereare!There havebeensome otherclasses,Otherseniorshave beenseen,But theycannotmatch thelassesThat arewearingof thegreen!
Ninety-greenshe is awinner,Ninety-greenshe is astar,Is thereanythingaginher?No, wedonot think thereare!There havebeensome otherclasses,Otherseniorshave beenseen,But theycannotmatch thelassesThat arewearingof thegreen!
Ninety-greenshe is awinner,Ninety-greenshe is astar,Is thereanythingaginher?No, wedonot think thereare!There havebeensome otherclasses,Otherseniorshave beenseen,But theycannotmatch thelassesThat arewearingof thegreen!
Ninety-greenshe is awinner,
Ninety-greenshe is astar,
Is thereanythingaginher?
No, wedonot think thereare!
There havebeensome otherclasses,
Otherseniorshave beenseen,
But theycannotmatch thelasses
That arewearingof thegreen!
They smiled a little and remembered the great mass of green flags and ribbons that had waved to that song in last year's Rally. But they did not answer with one of their own; a little of the first faint conviction that the college owns all her classes, the feeling that grows with the years, came to them, and as the circle pressed closer and closer and their steps fell into an even tramp, Grace called out, "Now, girls, here's to old Smith College!" and they sent it out over the campus, so strong and loud that the decennial people and the groups of Ninety-green and the juniors and the belated sophomores lurking about heard them and joined in:
Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege,For it'swherewe get ourknowledge,Drink herdown, drink herdown, drink herdown, down,down!
Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege,For it'swherewe get ourknowledge,Drink herdown, drink herdown, drink herdown, down,down!
Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege,For it'swherewe get ourknowledge,Drink herdown, drink herdown, drink herdown, down,down!
Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!
Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege, drink herdown!
Oh,here'sto old SmithCollege,
For it'swherewe get ourknowledge,
Drink herdown, drink herdown, drink herdown, down,down!
COLLEGE STORIES
PUBLISHED BYMessrs. Charles Scribner's SonsNew York
Smith
Smith College StoriesBYJOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM
12mo, $1.50
An animated picture of a particularly active-minded and picturesque community is contained in Miss Daskam's volume. "Smith" may be taken as an epitome of the woman's college world; and these ten stories have a real value accordingly in showing what the undergraduate life of many thousands of American young women really is in its varied phases, illustrating their ambitions, manners, occupations, and traits.
The stories, however, show that a good deal of human nature exists within college walls, and they will certainly appeal as strongly to the fiction-lover as to the sociologist, being written with great cleverness and sparkle, and clearly the work of a born writer of stories.
TITLES OF THE STORIES
Princeton
Princeton StoriesBYJESSE LYNCH WILLIAMS
9th Thousand12mo, $1.00
Here is the evanescent charm, the touch of poetry and sentiment, that pervades a thousand unpoetic and rather reserved young men. You will find here the good fellowship depicted without any rant about it. There isn't a prig in these stories, ... that are well written and well constructed, judged from the standard of good American short-story writers.—Droch in Life.
They breathe a spirit of commendable vigor and manliness. Princeton men are fortunate in having the life of their college so favorably presented to the outside world.—Atlantic Monthly.
The Adventures of a FreshmanBYJESSE LYNCH WILLIAMS
Illustrated, 12mo, $1.25
The new story of college life by the author of "Princeton Stories" is a stirring tale of experiences at college, and has already been pronounced (by the New YorkEvening Sun) "a better picture of college life than the same author's 'Princeton Stories'" (which is now in its ninth thousand). TheIndependentsays: "Hazing, the ups and downs of athletics, manliness and boyishness happily blended, escapades and adventures—all tending to the building up of a typical American character, brim the book with genuine life."
Charles Scribner's Sons, Publishers153-157 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK