“No. How did it come out?”
“Great guns! don’t you know how it came out? Why, we beat ’em! My boy plays first base. I go to all the games.”
“I wish I could. I wish I had gone to-day, but my work is rather confining. I have a daughter, and, of course, if I had a son, he’d be out there at the University too.”
“There are several prominent members of the class here to-night. Drowson is here, and Crane is toastmaster. We’re late, I think.”
With his new acquaintance Clews followed a knot of men who opened the door, exposing two large tables filled with diners. The noise within burst out and drew the attention of several guests of the hotel, who peered down the corridor with mild curiosity.
When the man who was with Clews hesitated for a moment, a dozen voices rose up to greet him, and several men stood up to shout, “Oh, Billy, here’s a seat!” or “Here you are, Lawton!”
Clews was lonely. Of the men who sat near him he remembered only two as acquaintances of undergraduate days, and the old associations recalled by their faces were so hazy that he was convinced that he had never known either of them well. They certainly did not recognize him. He determined grimly never to suffer another experience like this.
“The world likes success and sunlight,” he said to himself. “I’ll fight it out alone after this, and in my own little corner.”
A waiter finally thrust a demi-tasse of coffee deftly over Clew’s elbow. Crane had introduced Drowson with an accompaniment of cheers and hand-clapping, and Drowson had made a speech which had impressed every one, and Collingwood had been cajoled into singing an old song. Chairs were gradually moved back a little from the table, the room became foggy with the smoke that curled from the cigars, and a contented fullness and laughter tugged at nearly a hundred waistcoats.