"Turn to your left," said Butsey suddenly. "Here's Foundation House, where the Doctor lives. Just look at that doorway. Wouldn't it give you the chills?"
They were in front of a red-brick house, hidden under dark trees and overgrown with vines that congregated darkly over the porte-cochère and gave the entrance a mysterious gloom that still lives in the memory of the generations.
"It swallows you up, doesn't it?" said Dink, awed.
"You bet it does, and it's worse inside," said Butsey comfortingly. "Come on; now I'll show you the real thing."
They passed the surrounding trees and suddenly halted. Before them the campus burst upon them.
"Well, Dink, what do you think of that?" said Butsey proudly.
Stover plunged his hands in his trousers pockets and gazed awed. Before him extended an immense circle of greensward, dotted on the edge with apple trees in blossom, under which groups of boys were lolling, or tumbling over one another in joyous cublike romping. To the left, across the circle, half a dozen red-coated, slate-topped, portly houses, overgrown with ivy, were noisy with urchins hanging out of myriad windows, grouped on steps, chasing one another in twisting spirals over the lawns. Ahead, a massive brownstone chapel with pointed tower rose up, and to its right, in mathematical bulk, was the abode of Greek and Latin roots, syntax and dates, of blackboards, hard seats and the despotism of the Faculty. To the right, close at hand, was a large three-storied building with wonderful dormer windows tucked under the slanted slate roof, and below was a long stone esplanade, black with the grouped figures of giants. At the windows, propped on sofa cushions, chin in hand some few conned the approaching lesson, softening the task by moments of dreamy contemplation of the scuffle below or stopping to catch a tennis ball that traveled from the esplanade to the window. Meanwhile, a constant buzz of inquiry and exclamation continued:
"Say, Bill, how far's the advance?"
"Middle page ninety-two."
"Gee, what a lesson!"