Andy at Yale Part 13

Past the stores, the hotels, the moving picture places Andy went, until he came to where Chapel Street cuts across State. At the corner a confectionery store thrust out its rounded doorway, and in the windows were signs of various fountain drinks.

"A hot chocolate wouldn't be so bad," thought Andy. "It's a bit chilly."

He went in rather diffidently, wondering if some of the pretty girls lined up along the marble counter knew that he was a Yale man.

He heard a t.i.tter of laughter and grew red behind the ears, fearing it might be directed against him.

But no one seemed to notice him, the girl who pa.s.sed him out his check making change as nonchalantly as though he was but the veriest traveling man instead of a Yale student.

"Very blase, probably," thought Andy, with a sense of resentment.

He stood on the steps a moment as he came out, and then walked toward the Green, with its great elm trees, now looming mistily in the September haze.

Three churches on Temple street seemed to stand as a sort of guard in front of the college buildings that loomed behind them. Three silent and closed churches they were.

Up Chapel street walked Andy, and he came to a stop on College street, opposite Phelps Gateway. Through the gathering dusk he could make out the inscription over it:

LUX ET VERITAS

"That's it! That's what I came here for," he said. "Light and truth!

Oh, but it's great! Great!"

He drew in a long breath, and stood for a moment contemplating the beautiful outlines of the college buildings.

"Oh, but I'm glad I'm here!" he whispered.

Other students were pouring through the cla.s.sic gateway. Andy crossed the street and joined them. Already lights were beginning to glow in Lawrance and Farnam Halls, where the soph.o.m.ores had their rooms. Andy could see some of them lolling on cushions in their window seats. Yale blue cushions, they were.

He pa.s.sed in through the gateway, his footsteps clanging back to his ears, reflected by the arch overhead. He emerged onto the campus, and started across it toward Wright Hall, with its raised courtyard, and its curtained windows of blue.

"I wonder if Dunk is there yet?" thought Andy. "Hope he is. Oh, it's Yale at last! Yale! Yale!"

He breathed in deep of the night air. He looked at the shadows of the electric lights of the campus filtering through the trees. He paused a moment.

A confusion of sounds came to him. Outside the quadrangle in which he stood he could hear the hum of the busy city--the clang of trolleys, the clatter of horses, the hoa.r.s.e croak of auto horns. Within the precincts of the college buildings he could hear the hum of voices. Now and then came the tinkle of a piano or the vibration of a violin. Then there were shouts.

"Oh, you, Pop! Stick out your head!"

The call of one student to another.

"I wonder if they'll ever call me?" mused Andy.

He started across the campus. Coming toward him were several dark figures. Andy met them under a light, and started back. Before he had a chance to speak someone shouted at him:

"There he is now! The freshest of the fresh! Take off that hat!"

It was Mortimer Gaffington.

CHAPTER X

MISSING MONEY

For a moment Andy stood there, not knowing what to do or say. It was so unexpected, and yet he knew he must meet Mortimer at Yale--meet and perhaps clash with the lad who was now a soph.o.m.ore--the lad who had such good cause now to dislike Andy.

On his part the young "swell" leered into Andy's face, then glanced sidelong at the youths who accompanied him. Andy recognized them as the same who had been in the auto that night of the bonfire at Milton.

"That's he!" exclaimed Mortimer; then to Andy: "I didn't think I'd meet you quite so soon, Blair! So you're here, eh?"

"Yes," answered Andy.

"Put a 'sir' on that!" commanded one of the other lads.

"Yes--sir!"

Andy took his own time with the last word. He knew the rites and customs of Yale, at least by hearsay, and was willing to abide by the unwritten laws that make a first-year man demean himself to the uppercla.s.smen. It would not last long.

"That's better," commented the third lad. "Never forget your manners--er--what's your name?"

"Blair."

"Sir!" snapped the one who had first reminded Andy of the lapse.

"Sir!"

"You know him," put in Mortimer. "The fellow who put us out of the auto, eh?"

"Oh, sure, I remember now. Nervy little rat! It's a wonder I remember anything that happened that night. We were pretty well pickled. Oh, land, yes!"

He seemed proud of it.

"Take off that hat!" commanded Mortimer. "Don't forget you're a freshman here."

"And a fresh freshman, too," added one of his chums. "Take it off!"

Andy was perfectly willing to abide by this unwritten law also, and doffed his derby. He made a mental note that as soon as he could he would get a cap, or soft hat, such as he saw other students wearing.

"The brute has some manners," commented one of the trio.

"I'll teach him some more before I get through with him!" muttered Mortimer. He, as well as his two companions, seemed to have been dining, "not wisely but too well."

"Anything more?" asked Andy, good-naturedly. He knew that he must put up with insults, if need be, from Mortimer; for he realized that, in a way, cla.s.s distinction at Yale is strong in its unwritten laws, and he wanted to do as the others did. It takes much nerve to vary from the customs and traditions of any country or place, more especially a big college.

And Andy knew his turn would come.

He also knew that it was all done in good-natured fun, and really with the best intentions. For a first-year man is very likely to become what his name indicates--fresh--and there is need of toning down.