BY
CHARLES MACOMB FLANDRAU
BOSTON
COPELAND AND DAY
MDCCCXCVII
First edition (3500 copies) November, 1897
Second edition (5000 copies) December, 1897
COPYRIGHT BY COPELAND AND DAY, 1897
To W. A.
Dear W. A. I have written about a very little corner of a very greatplace; but one that we knew well, and together.
C. M. F.
PAGE | |
THE CHANCE | 1 |
THE SERPENT’S TOOTH | 57 |
WOLCOTT THE MAGNIFICENT | 77 |
WELLINGTON | 179 |
BUTTERFLIES | 201 |
A DEAD ISSUE | 249 |
THE CLASS DAY IDYL | 297 |
TWO men were talking in a room in Claverly Hall. Horace Hewitt, thesophomore who owned the apartment, had passed, during the hour with hisvisitor, from the state in which conversation is merely a sort oflistless chaffing to where it becomes eager, earnest, and perplexing.The other, a carefully dressed, somewhat older young man, across whoseimpassive, intellectual profile a pair of eyeglasses straddled gingerly,was not, perhaps, monopolising more than his share of the discussion,for Robinson Curtiss was the kind of person to whom a largeconversational portion was universally conceded; but he was, withoutdoubt, talking with a continuance and an air of authority thatunconsciously had become relentless. Both men were smoking: Hewitt, asallow meerschaum pipe, with{2} his class in raised letters on the bowl;Curtiss, a cigarette he had taken from the metal case he still heldmeditatively in his hand. He smoked exceedingly good cigarettes, andpractised the thrifty art of always discovering just one in his case.
“So you think my college life from an undergraduate’s standpoint, andit’s the only standpoint I give that for,”—Hewitt snapped his fingersimpatiently,—“will always be as much of a fizzle as it has so far?” Hehad jumped up from the big chair in which he had all along beensprawling and stood before Robinson in an attitude that was at onceincredulous and despairing. The momentary embarrassment that Curtissfelt at this unexpected show of feeling on the part of his young friend,took the form of extreme deliberation in returning his c