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Updated: May 21, 2025
Timothy’s had kicked; Ballard had recovered the ball for Harvard on St. Timothy’s forty-yard line, and then Warren, the quarterback, had made a long pass straight into Lawrence’s hands; Lawrence started to run; then, just as Chase and Baldersnaith were bearing down for the tackle, he stopped and hurled the ball forward and across to Newell, the other Harvard end.
Two nights Irving spent all alone in the Sixth Form dormitory; it amused him to walk up and down the corridors with the list of those to whom rooms there had been assigned. “Collingwood, Westby, Scarborough, Morrill, Anderson, Baldersnaith, Hill”—some of them had occupied these rooms as Fifth Formers, and Irving had asked Mr. Barclay about them.
“That fellow with the angel face is Morrill,” Collingwood went on, “and the one next to him, with the aristocratic features, is Baldersnaith, and this red-head here is Dennison,—and that’s Westby.” Irving, shaking hands round the circle, said, “Oh, I know Westby.” “Sit down, won’t you, Mr. Upton?” Westby pushed his armchair forward. “Thank you; don’t let me interrupt the singing.”
When he drew himself up, dripping, on the bank, Baldersnaith, Dennison, and Smythe were all on the broad grin, and from the water floated the sound of Westby’s merriment. Irving stood for a moment, letting himself drip, quite undecided as to what he should do.
Timothy’s were playing more aggressively than in the first half; twice Kenyon, the Harvard halfback, started to skirt round Lawrence’s end, but both times Baldersnaith, the St. Timothy’s tackle, broke through and dragged him down. Baldersnaith, Dennison, Morrill, and Collingwood were especially distinguishing themselves for the School.
He felt that Baldersnaith and the others were trying to be as polite and considerate as possible, and yet they could not refrain from exhibiting their amusement, their delight. Scarborough, who had swum ahead of the others, waded ashore and looked him over. “I tell you what you’d better do, Mr. Upton,” he said. “You’d better take your clothes off, wring them out, and spread them out to dry.
Upton.” It was Baldersnaith who first saw him; Baldersnaith, Dennison, and Smythe were fully dressed and were sitting under a tree looking on. “You’re just in time,” said Collingwood. Scarborough, stripped like Westby and Carroll and Morrill and Collingwood, was out on the pond, paddling round in a canoe.
They advanced cautiously and then swung apart, evading the collision—each trying to tempt the other to stab and overreach. “Oh, you’re both scared!” jeered Baldersnaith from the shore. The canoes swung about and made for each other again; and this time passed within striking distance.
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