“I go only to David’s games now,” Mr. Dean answered with a smile. Then, as she put her hand into his, he said: “It’s good to hear your voice again, my dear. I should like to see how the little girl has grown.”
David saw Ruth’s eyes suddenly grow moist and bright. “I’m just the same, Mr. Dean,” she replied, “though I hope my hair is generally tidier than it used to be.”
She was silent for a while after leaving the house; David liked her silence and the emotion that it signified. Wasn’t it her quick and soft compassion that had always made big boys as well as little open-hearted with Ruth?
Soon they were in the full tide of the stream that bubbled and rustled and flashed and rippled on its flow to Soldiers’ Field. The sun was shining; blue flags and crimson were waving; a brass band somewhere ahead was braying; gray-headed graduates, fuzzy-chinned freshmen, mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and sweethearts, all were bustling and trudging, gay and eager; and the ceaseless cries of ticket speculators and venders of souvenirs, banners, and toy balloons made the very air alive with excitement. In all the throng no one’s face was brighter, happier, more expectant than Ruth’s. And no one’s face was prettier, thought David.
She was too much excited to talk, except in exclamations, too much excited after they took their seats in the Stadium and looked down upon the empty field and across at the bank of spectators who were cheering for Yale and waving blue flags. All the preliminary cheering and singing, the figures of the bareheaded cheer leaders leaping about in front of the sections, brandishing megaphones and making every movement of arm and leg and body in a kind of fanatical, frenzied unison, one with another—all before a single athlete had put in an appearance—did not strike either Ruth or David as ridiculous. David responded loyally to every behest of the cheer leader immediately confronting him and in the intervals pointed out the celebrities to Ruth. “That fellow who leads our section is Henderson, captain of the crew; that’s Colby, captain of the nine, next to him; there’s Burke, leader of the glee club—” and so on. Ruth looked at each one with just a moment of interest in the great man and then renewed her bright, wandering, excited gaze over the whole lively, sparkling scene.
There was a more exuberant outbreak on the Yale side, and the Yale eleven, attended by innumerable substitutes, came rushing on the field in a grim and violent manner. Immediately there followed an exuberant outbreak on the Harvard side, and the Harvard eleven, attended by innumerable substitutes, came rushing on the field in a grim and violent manner. They crouched and charged, then crouched and charged again, while rampant individuals of apparently uncontrollable strength and energy booted footballs to enormous heights and for unbelievable distances.
“There’s Lester!” cried Ruth. “How nice that he’s not wearing a head guard, for now I can always pick him out. But I do hope his head won’t get hurt.”
“Lester never gets hurt,” David assured her.
Not only in the eyes of Ruth and David did Lester shine preëminent that afternoon. He flashed out of scrimmages, carrying the ball; he made long end runs, carrying the ball; he ran the ball back on kicks, dodging and squirming through a broken field; he made the first touchdown of the game, and a few minutes later the second. David shouted himself hoarse over Lester’s exploits, and Ruth, though she did not join in the cheering, had a proud and happy look in her eyes. He was her hero; and perhaps even while he performed these wonderful feats he thought of her.