Then “Babe” Upton twanged a banjo and improvised the verses of a song whose refrain ran:
“Up and down and all around, that’s the way we find ’em!
Two for five and three for ten, and here’s a string to bind ’em!”
Dick thought Babe’s faculty for making rhymes quite marvelous until he noticed that he used only three or four in the course of a dozen verses. Before he had finished, half of those present had been sung about. The verses weren’t remarkable for sense of rhythm, but they always won laughter and applause. Cheever came in for the following:
“Here’s big Jim Cheever, looking fine.
He always does when he’s out to dine.
You couldn’t keep Jim away to-night,
For he’s right there with his appetite!”
And even Dick didn’t escape, for Babe turned his grinning face toward the couch and twanged the strings and sang:
“A fellow named Bates is here to-night
And his face it is an awful sight!
Maybe he fell against the wall,
But I’ll bet he didn’t get it a-playing football!”
“Up and down and all around, that’s the way we find ’em!
Two for five and three for ten, and here’s a string to bind ’em!”
Jerry Wendell gave imitations, one of Mr. Addicks, the Greek and Latin instructor, being especially clever. Wendell leaned over the back of a chair and drew his face into long lines. “Young gentlemen,” he began in a slow, precise and kindly voice, “the trees are budding this beautiful morning and the little birds are chirping to one another and there’s a feeling of spring in the air. You may have noticed it, young gentlemen? As Juvenal so poetically phrases it, ‘Sic transit gloria mundi, Veluti in speculum Sunday.’ Are there any amongst you this bright morning who know who Juvenal was? Is there one? No, I feared as much. Warden, would it inconvenience you to open your eyes and give me your attention? Ah, I thank you. Yes, young gentlemen, spring is upon us. Especially is it upon you. I have but to gaze on your rapt, intelligent countenances, your bright and eager faces, to realize how thoroughly you are imbued with the Spirit of the Spring. If Townsend will drag his legs out of the aisle—I thank you. Spring is a wonderful season, young gentlemen, a beautiful season, the vernal equinox, as a poet has so well phrased it. The Greeks, as you doubtless recall, celebrated the coming of spring with appropriate observances. And yet it may be that the fact has escaped many of you. A pity, a great pity! Suppose, therefore, that you refresh your memories on the subject and be prepared tomorrow to tell me in what way the Greeks welcomed the advent of spring. And we will have tomorrow what the spring has prevented us from having today, and also the next two pages. Young gentlemen, the class is dismissed. Will some one of you kindly awaken Peters as you pass out?”
Then the host flicked away the cloth from the table and there was an outburst of applause for what lay revealed. Sandwiches of many sorts, potted delectations, cakes and pastries, biscuits and cheese and much ginger ale. After that came a half-hour of earnest endeavour on the part of each and every one to ruin digestion, with Bob maintaining a sharp and yet lenient watch on the football fellows, to whom pastry was taboo. Bob’s “soiree” ended in a final burst of song that brought an apologetic warning from a proctor. Afterwards Dick and Stanley walked across to Sohmer humming the tune of Babe’s absurd jingle, Stanley breaking into words as they climbed the dormitory stairs: