Part 20 (2/2)
BANNISTER GIVES HICKS A SURPRISE PARTY
”We have come to the close of our college days.
Golden campus years soon must end; From Bannister we shall go our ways-- And friend shall part from friend!
On our Alma Mater now we gaze, And our eyes are filled with tears; For we've come to the close of our college days, And the end of our campus years!”
Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., Bannister, '92; Yale, '96, and Pittsburgh millionaire ”Steel King,” stood at the window of Thomas Haviland Hicks, Jr.'s, room, his arm across the shoulders of that sunny-souled Senior, his only son and heir. Father and son stood, gazing down at the campus. On the Gym steps was a group of Seniors, singing songs of old Bannister, songs tinged with sadness. Up to Hicks' windows, on the warm June: night, drifted the 1916 Cla.s.s Ode, to the beautiful tune, ”A Perfect Day.” Over before the Science Hall, a crowd of joyous alumni laughed over narratives of their campus escapades. Happy undergraduates, skylarking on the campus, celebrated the end of study, and gazed with some awe at the Seniors, in cap and gown, suddenly transformed into strange beings, instead of old comrades and college-mates.
”'The close of our college days, and the end of our campus years--!'”
quoted Mr. Hicks, a mist before his eyes as he gazed at the scene. ”In a few days, Thomas, comes the final parting from old Bannister--I know it will be hard, for I had to leave the dear old college, and also Yale. But you have made a splendid record in your studies, you have been one of the most popular fellows here, and--you have vastly pleased your Dad, by winning your B in the high-jump.”
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.'s, last study-sprint was at an end, the final Exams.
of his Senior year had been pa.s.sed with what is usually termed flying colors; and to the whole-souled delight of the lovable youth, he and little Theophilus Opperd.y.k.e, the Human Encyclopedia, had, as Hicks chastely phrased it, ”run a dead heat for the Valedictory!” So close had their final averages been that the Faculty, after much consideration, decided to announce at the Commencement exercises that the two Seniors had tied for the highest collegiate honors, and everyone was satisfied with the verdict.
So, now it was all ended; the four years of study, athletics, campus escapades, dormitory skylarking--the golden years of college life, were about to end for 1919. Commencement would officially start on the morrow, but tonight, in the Auditorium, would be held the annual Athletic a.s.sociation meeting, when those happy athletes who had won their B during the year would have it presented, before the a.s.sembled collegians, by one-time gridiron, track, and diamond heroes of old Bannister.
And--the ecstatic Hicks would have his track B, his white letter, won in the high-jump, thanks to Caesar Napoleon's a.s.sistance, awarded him by his beloved Dad, the greatest all-round athlete that ever wore the Gold and Green! Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr.,to New Haven and Yale in his private car, ”Vulcan,” had reached town that day, together with other members of Bannister College, Cla.s.s of '92. They, as did all the old grads., promptly renewed past memories and a.s.sociations by riding up to College Hill in Dan Flannagan's jitney-bus--a youthful, hilarious crowd of alumni. Former students, alumni, parents of graduating Seniors, friends, sweethearts--every train would bring its quota. The campus would again throb and pulsate with that perennial quickening--Commencement. Three days of reunions, Cla.s.s Day exercises, banquets, and other events, then the final exercises, and--T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., would be an alumnus!
”It's like Theophilus told Thor, last fall, Dad,” said the serious Hicks.
”You know what Shakespeare said: 'This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong; To love that well which thou must leave ere long.' Now that I soon shall leave old Bannister, I--I wish I had studied more, had done bigger things for my Alma Mater! And for you, Dad, too; I've won a B, but perhaps, had I trained and exercised more, I might have annexed another letter--still; h.e.l.lo, what's Butch hollering--?”
Big Butch Brewster, his pachydermic frame draped in his gown, and his mortar-board cap on his head, for the Seniors were required to wear their regalia during Commencement week, was bellowing through a megaphone, as he stood on the steps of Bannister Hall, and Mr. Hicks, with his cheerful son, listened:
”Everybody--Seniors, Undergrads., Alumni--in the Auditorium at eight sharp!
We are going to give Mr. Hicks and T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., a surprise party--don't miss the fun!”
”Now, just what does Butch mean, Dad?” queried the bewildered Senior.
”Something is in the wind. For two days, the fellows have had a secret from me--they whisper and plot, and when I approach, loudly talk of athletics, or Commencement! Say, Butch--Butch--I ain't a-comin' tonight, unless you explain the mystery.”
”Oh, yes, you be, old sport!” roared Butch, from the campus, employing the megaphone, ”or you don't get your letter! Say, Hicks, one sweetly solemn thought attacks me--old Bannister is puzzlingwith a mystery, instead of vice versa, as is usually the case.”
”Well, Thomas,” said Mr. Hicks, his face lighted by a humorous, kindly smile, as he heard the storm of good-natured jeers at Hicks, Jr., that greeted Butch Brewster's fling, ”I'll stroll downtown, and see if any of my old comrades came on the night express. I'll see you at the Athletic a.s.sociation meeting, for I believe I am to hand you the B. I can't imagine what this 'surprise party' is, but I don't suppose it will harm us. It will surely be a happy moment, son, when I present you with the athletic letter you worked so hard to win.”
When T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.'s, beloved Dad had gone, his firm stride echoing down the corridor, that blithesome, irrepressible collegian, whom old Bannister had come to love as a generous, sunny-souled youth, stood again by the window, gazing out at the campus. Now, for the first time, he fully realized what a sad occasion a college Commencement really is--to those who must go forth from their Alma Mater forever. With almost the force of a staggering blow, Hicks suddenly saw how it would hurt to leave the well-loved campus and halls of old Bannister, to go from those comrades of his golden years. In a day or so, he must part from good Butch, Pudge, Beef, Ichabod, Monty, Roddy, Cherub, loyal little Theophilus and all his cla.s.smates of '19, as well as from his firm friends of the undergraduates.
It would be the parting from the youths of his cla.s.s that would cost him the greatest regret. Four years they had lived together the care-free campus life. From Freshmen to Seniors they had grown and developed together, and had striven for 1919 and old Bannister, while a love for their Alma Mater had steadily possessed their hearts. And now soon they must sing, ”Vale, Alma Mater!” and go from the campus and corridors, as Jack Merritt, Heavy Hughes, Biff McCabe, and many others had done before them.
Of course, they would return to old Bannister. There would be alumni banquets at mid-year and Commencement, with glad cla.s.s reunions each year.
They would come back for the big games of the football or baseball season.
But it would never be the same. The glad, care-free, golden years of college life come but once, and they could never live them, as of old.
”Caesar's Ghost!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., making a dive for his beloved banjo, as he awakened to the startling fact that for some time he had been intensely serious. ”This will never, never do. I must maintain my blithesome buoyancy to the end, and entertain old Bannister with my musical ability. Here goes.”
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