The cheering section could yell no more, because to a man it had lost its voice; but, oh, the glad burst of song from the Exmoor students as they leaped into the field and bore the conquering giant around on their shoulders. And, oh! the dejection of the men of crimson as they stalked sadly from the scene of their humiliation.
At last the whole glorious day was over and the girls found themselves on the way to the trolley station. Richard Blount and his cousin, Miss Green, had hastened on ahead. They were to take the six o’clock train back to New York.
“Cousin Edwin, why can’t you hire a horse in the village and ride back to Wellington with me?” asked Judith, when they paused at the Chapter House for her to mount her black steed.
“Because I’m engaged to take these young ladies home by trolley, Judith,” answered the Professor firmly.
Judith leaped on her horse without assistance, gave the poor animal a savage lash with her whip and dashed across the campus without another word.
The ride back at sunset was even more perfect than the morning trip. The Professor of English Literature appeared to have been temporarily changed into a boy. He told them funny stories and bits of his own college experiences, and made them talk, too. Almost before they knew it, the conductor was calling: “Wellington!”
CHAPTER XII.
SUNDAY MORNING BREAKFAST.
It was quite the custom at Wellington for girls to prepare breakfasts on Sunday morning in their rooms. There was always the useful boneless chicken to be creamed in one’s chafing dish; and in another, eggs to be scrambled with a lick and a promise, at these impromptu affairs; and it was a change from the usual codfish balls of the Sunday house breakfast.