to it, all right," confessed the
youth who had been surnamed Broadhurst, the name his mother had taken.
"That's just what mother did this afternoon--insisted on meeting me
under the stands, and--and tied on this bow--and said those same words!"

It was a peculiar sight--had any one been there to see it--a grown-up
man and a growing man clasping hands, their faces wet and streaked.

"I'm taking mother to dinner tonight," said the younger man softly,
after what seemed like an hour of understanding silence.

"No--you mean that I'm taking mother and you," corrected the old-time
player firmly. Then, leaning over, he touched the crimson bow
reverently and asked: "I--I wonder if you'd let me wear that to-night?
I want her to see me with it on. I want her to know that Davies played
the game!"

"BUTTER FINGERS"

How did "Rus" Lindley get his nickname, "Butter Fingers"? Now _I'll_
ask _you_ one! "Why did the guys call six foot Harry Tibbits,
'Shorty'?" Answer that and you've answered your own question about
"Rus."

I guess, if you'd go into the science of nicknames far enough you'd
find that the name you can pick which comes the furtherest from fitting
who you're picking it for is the one that suits the best! There--how's
that for getting rid of an involved sentence?

At any rate, if "Rus" really deserved to be dubbed "Butter Fingers"
then the moon is really made of green cheese and the cow really did
jump over it and all that stuff. Because if there was one thing that
"Rus" _wasn't_, it was _butter fingers_.

"Rus" was a lean, lanky, long-armed, awkward, thin-nosed cuss that
you'd think, to look at, didn't have an ounce of ambition or a pint of
sense. The next minute you'd wake up to find the ounce a hundred
pounds of condensed lightning and the pint a couple of gallons of
trigger thinking. That's the kind of a surprise package "Rus" was.
And, brother, look out!! If "Rus" ever had occasion to lay hands on
you he didn't let go until he got good and ready. Try your _durndest_
and you couldn't shake loose the grip he carried in those long, slender
fish hooks of his. "Butter Fingers"?

What a laugh! "Rus" was never known to have muffed anything in his
life!

It was "Butter Fingers" who climbed the greased pole and took down the
Senior colors his Freshman year. It was "Butter Fingers" who untied
the wet knots in the fellows' clothes the time we Sophies got caught
swimming in the Old Bend, thus saving