“Tom! Mr. Parsons!”
“Why, how do you do, Miss Tyler?” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Oh, yes, I wouldn’t miss this for anything. I just love to see the old graduates. They are so interesting, just as if they were boys again.”
She made room for Tom beside her, and he gladly availed himself of the chance.
“Yes, there are quite a few of the old boys on hand to-day,” he remarked. “Look at those two,” and he pointed to two well-dressed men, each attired in a tall silk hat and a frock coat. They each had a gold-headed cane and they were very staid in looks, yet at the sight of each other they rose in their seats, clasped hands across the heads of intervening persons and one, the elder, cried out:
“Well, well! If it isn’t old Skeeziks! How are you? I haven’t seen you since I graduated in ’73!”
“Nor me you, you old fish-pedler! How are things? Do you remember the day we kidnaped Mrs. Maguire and took all her chickens?”
“Hush! Not so loud!” cautioned the other, his face breaking into smiles. “The faculty never found out who did that, and there’s no use telling now. But I am glad to see you. Do you think our boys will win?”
“I hope so, though I see by the papers they haven’t been playing as good ball as when we went to school. They need a little ginger.”
“That’s right. I wish I was young again. We certainly had some great games.”