the
Faculty," and with this covert hint the peacemakers turned the corner.

The sun shown brightly on the red-brown earth of the diamond when the
Freshmen, the Sophomores and the Faculty met, according to agreement.
The enterprising student-body management had chalked the Quad in
conspicuous places:

RUSH of the YEAR,
Sophomore-Freshman Game.
Don't Miss It!

and the college responded. The co-eds were there, radiant in the
snowiest of duck shirts, the gayest of shirt-waists. With them were
"ladies' men," in variegated golf-stockings and gorgeous hat-bands. The
Freshmen, gathered near first base, contrasted disreputably with this
display; they wore old clothes, ragged hats, and they carried a
miscellaneous collection of canes, borrowed from Juniors or stolen from
Sophomores.

These stalwarts of the latest class were loaded with horns and
noise-machines. Defiance exhaled from them. It was an impressive
object-lesson on the evils of Freshman victories.

A few sensible Juniors went over and tried to quell their disturbance,
but the infants were beyond any control of their class fathers; they
had at their head the redoubtable Pete Halleck, with his perverted sense
of the proprieties, and their uproar moderated not a bit. The Juniors
returned to the bleachers, shaking their heads in disgust. Professor
Grind, of the Committee on Student Affairs, was observed to write in his
note-book. The Sophomores who saw this rejoiced that they were not in
rushing clothes. Still the racket went on.

Jack Smith, in spotless tennis flannels, sat on the bleachers. Some
girls from San Francisco, and one in particular as far as Cap was
concerned, had come down with Tom Ashley's mother that morning, and he
brought them over to the game. Pete Halleck picked him out at once and
reminded the others of their promise.

Hannah Grant Daly, who did not know him to speak to, also picked him
out. To her he looked more goodly than ever this afternoon, contrasted
with the uncouthness of Halleck and others of her class. She watched him
covertly, laughing and talking with the town girl beside him. He had
laughed and talked very much like that to her, once, but he had
forgotten it. That was natural; she had forgiven it long ago. Lillian
Arnold, in the brightest of Easter hats, watched him, too.

The game was not exciting. The Freshmen were badly outplayed; the
Sophomores galloped around the bases, and the babies' insolen