"I have no doubt of it, but if I were you I think I would leave the punishment of cruel drivers in future to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. By the way, how is the wrist this morning?"
"Oh, it's ever so much better," said Marjorie, blushing at the memory of her escapade. "I don't believe I have thought of it once since Mrs. Randolph's note came. I have been so anxious to see a real college football match. My father was on the team at Harvard."
"Indeed!" said the doctor, looking interested. "I am a Harvard man myself, and there was a Graham on the team in my time; a splendid chap—what is your father's name?"
"Donald, and he was in the class of 1890," said Marjorie, eagerly. "Oh, I wonder if you can really have known Father."
"I certainly did. Ninety was my class, too, and I remember Donald Graham very well, though we have never met since the old college days."
"How perfectly delightful!" cried Marjorie, with sparkling eyes. "Father will be so interested when I write him about it."
Dr. Randolph was really pleased to hear of his old classmate, forgotten for nearly twenty years, and he and Marjorie were soon in the midst of an animated conversation; she telling of her father's busy life on the Arizona cattle ranch, and he relating college stories, and growing young again himself in recalling those old merry days.
That was a wonderful ride, and Marjorie enjoyed every moment. Dr. Randolph told her the names of all the towns they passed through, and Beverly and his mother were so kind and so merry. It was noon when they reached New Haven, where they found the streets crowded with people and automobiles, and many of the buildings decorated with flags and Yale colors.
"Have all these people come to see the game?" Marjorie asked breathlessly.
"Yes, and a good many more as well," Dr. Randolph told her. "There is always a big crowd for these games; the railroads run special trains on purpose. We are going to have lunch now, and then go out to Yale Field."