"See, here comes our fellows, Tubbie Spencer in the lead. Wait till you see how he can play. What's the matter? Why don't we give them a cheer? Well, here's Billy Knowlton, cheer leader for this section; he'll start 'em up," and in a moment the most deafening noise that Jean had ever heard rose from the Yale side. Cheer followed cheer, and songs were occasionally intermingled. Jean found herself joining in as excitedly as the boys and in a little while knew all the Yale players and most of the Harvard ones.
Promptly at two o'clock the referee blew his whistle and the two elevens lined up for the first kick-off. From then until ten minutes after four there was not a dull moment. The ball was back and forth over the field, first on Harvard's ground and then on Yale's. The playing was more even than it had been for years and at the end of the second half the score was 6-5 in favor of Harvard.
Jean was so disappointed she could hardly keep back the tears that had started to her eyes, and she cried out, "I think it's a downright shame! To think you should be beaten at my first Harvard-Yale, Mr. Thornton! I just hate Harvard."
"Yes, it is hard luck, and my greatest regret is that I can't look forward to next year to see Yale trim them. That's the worst of being a senior; everything you do this year is for the last time. I envy you being a freshman with four good years ahead of you. They're the best years of your life, take my word for it. I'd give a good deal if I were beginning it all over again. Of course I shall always try to go to the big games, but it will never be the same as when you're an undergraduate. See the fellows down there forming the procession. They'll march up and down the Stadium several times and throw their hats up over the goals. No one ever expects to get his own hat back, but it's all part of the game. They'd better celebrate to-day, for they may not have another chance again."
The little party stood and watched the long procession of undergraduates take possession of the great Stadium as they marched up and down, across and around the field. When they reached either goal every hat was off and tossed up over the cross-bar and caught again by the nearest man as it came down. After fifteen or twenty minutes of this the procession passed out of the gate, the leaders carrying the victorious eleven upon their backs, and soon they were lost from sight, although their shouting and singing could be heard long after.
It was almost dark when Mrs. Nutter and her guests took their places in the automobile. They had been obliged to wait a long time for the machine, as there were so many others ahead of them. However, they made up for lost time by tearing with the highest speed toward Boston. As they were crossing Harvard Bridge Jean begged them to stop a moment, for the three bridges spanning the Charles seemed to be but parallel lines of bright lights which in the darkness presented a most novel appearance. She saw the lighted dome of the State House for the first time and exclaimed upon its height and brilliancy. "I wish I had to cross Harvard Bridge every night, it is so beautiful here," she said as they started off again.
A table had been reserved for them at the Touraine and they found themselves among a merry throng of young people, most of them the supporters of the crimson and jubilant over their victory. Here and there were Yale men and their guests and the men and girls circulated from one table to another renewing acquaintances.
It was a little late when they arrived at the theater and the play had already begun. The house had been bought up by the Yale men and decorations of blue were everywhere. The singers had touches of blue in their costumes and sang the good old Yale songs, and at the end of the second act threw hundreds of rolls of blue confetti out over the audience. No one pretended to know anything about the comic opera itself, for there was so much Yale music introduced, so many jokes about the football players and the game, so much applause and singing on the part of those in the audience that the real plot, if there could be said to be one, was almost lost sight of.
As the boys wished to take the midnight express out of Boston, Tom suggested that they leave before the last act was quite over. The party were to see Jean safely landed at Ashton and then motor back to Boston. Jean was disappointed that Tom could not stay over Sunday, for she had promised herself the pleasure of taking him to Vespers and introducing him to her friends. He promised her that pleasure later in the year and reminded her that they were to have five days together the next week. The two talked over trains and plans for meeting in New York and the others became very quiet, for the day had been a long one in spite of its many pleasures, and they were content to make themselves as comfortable as possible in the machine and let the others do the talking.
It was after eleven when they drew up in front of Merton, and Jean and Tom alighted. Good-nights were said and promises made for future reunions, and as Jean stepped into the hall Tom sang out, "Good-by till Wednesday. I'll meet you in the Grand Central at four. If I'm not at the train you sit down by the Inquiry Office and wait till I come. The trains are apt to be crowded at holiday time and one can't tell when they will arrive. So long; hope you'll find your room-mate better. Give her my bestest," and he hastened back to the others and they were off and away before Jean had reached 45.