"What is it?" asked a citizen in a silk hat of a gayly decorated youth on the outskirts of the crowd. The latter stared for full a minute ere the words came. Then he cried:
"Here's a fellow who wants to know what we're here for!" And a great groan of derision went up to the arching roof, and the ignorant person slunk away, yet not before his silk hat had been pushed gently but firmly far down over his eyes. Punishment ever awaits the ignorant who will not learn.
"Glory, glory for the Crimson,
Glory, glory for the Crimson,
Glory, glory for the Crimson,
For this is Harwell's day,"
sang the throng.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!" thundered the big drum.
"Tootle-toot!" shrilled the fife.
"Now, fellows, three times three, three long Harwells, and three times three!" shouted the master of ceremonies hoarsely.
"Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Harwell! Harwell! Harwell! Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Harwell!" shrieked the crowd.
"Louder! Louder!" commanded the remorseless youth on the baggage truck. "Nine long Harwells! One, two, three!"
"Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well!" The sound crashed up against the vaulted station roof and thundered back. And none heard the shriek of the incoming train as it clattered over the switches at the entrance of the shed, and none saw it until it was creeping in, the engineer leaning far out of the cab window and waving a red bandanna handkerchief, a courtesy that won him a cheer all to himself.