“Oh, Louise, you’re such a splendid——” Jacquette began, but Louise nudged her to be quiet. Two boys had slipped into places which had been vacated on the opposite side of the table, and, as Jacquette looked up, she found herself gazing into the blue eyes of Bobs Drake.
Bobs had scarcely seated himself and ordered a glass of milk from the distracted young waitress, who was answering wild calls for “redhots!” and “soup!” from all directions at once, before the boys and girls began to swarm about him.
“I hear you’ve gone into training, now, Bobs, just like a ’varsity man,” began one of the boys. “They’re telling around that you live on birdseed and mush, and take long runs in the early morning. Is that right?”
“He wouldn’t come over to the frat house, last night, anyway,” put in Lawrence Beach. “I understand he’s started going to bed at six, now.”
“Then we’ll have to go around and serenade him,” proposed Rex Morton. “We’ll give him, ‘Oh, does it not seem hard to you?’” He hummed the first line, and the crowd of boys and girls took it up:
“Oh, does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play—
I have to go to bed by day?”
they sang plaintively, while Bobs sat sipping his glass of milk with a good-humoured smile on his sunburned face.