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Updated: June 8, 2025
This accounted for the laughter that ensued. "Sammy Doak" received a notebook marked "Mathematics 3a." The point of this allusion was lost to Satherwaite, for Doak was too busy laughing to explain it. And so it went, and the room was in a constant roar of mirth. Doyle was conferring excitedly with Ailworth across the room.
They counted its strokes; eight nine ten eleven twelve. "Merry Christmas, all!" cried Smith. In the clamor that ensued, Satherwaite secured his coat and hat. He shook hands all around. Smith insisted upon sharing the cranberries with him, and so looped a string gracefully about his neck.
Doyle gave him the opportunity he wanted. "Isn't it something new for you to stay here through recess?" he asked. Then Satherwaite told about Phil's Aunt Louise and the telegram; about his dismal dinner at the restaurant and the subsequent flight from the tomblike silence of the club; how he had decided, in desperation, to clean up his study, and how he had come across Doyle's notebook.
With something between a groan and a growl, he drew a crumpled telegram from his pocket. The telegram was at the bottom of it all. He read it again: E. SATHERWAITE, Randolph Hall, Cambridge. Advise your not coming. Aunt Louise very ill. Merry Christmas. " Merry Christmas!" growled Satherwaite, throwing the offending sheet of buff paper into the flames. "Looks like it, doesn't it?
When Satherwaite backed out the door he still held Doak's pet pipe clenched between his teeth, and Doak, knowing it, said not a word. "Hope you'll come back and see us," called Doyle. "That's right, old man, don't forget us!" shouted Ailworth. And Satherwaite, promising again and again not to, stumbled his way down the dark stairs. Outside, he glanced gratefully up at the lighted panes.
By and by, he stole forward, and, detaching one of the packages from the tree, erased and wrote on it with great secrecy. Then he tied it back again, and retired to the hearth, grinning expectantly, until his own name was called, and he was shoved forward to receive a rubber pen-holder. Presently, Satherwaite, working around the Christmas tree, detached a package, and frowned over the address.
No, Satherwaite couldn't stop. He heard the youth in the faded cricket-blazer tell the man next to him, in a stage aside, that this was "Satherwaite, '02, an awful swell, you know." Satherwaite again declared that he could not remain. Doyle said he was sorry; they were just having a little a sort of a Christmas-eve party, you know.
As for visiting Doyle, Satherwaite could not remember ever having been in his room but once, and that was long ago, in their Freshman year. Satherwaite had to climb two flights of steep and very narrow stairs, and when he stood at Doyle's door, he thought he must have made a mistake.
Satherwaite left out all mention of Phil's sister, naturally, and ended with: "And so, when I saw you fellows having such a Christian, comfortable sort of a time, I simply couldn't break away again. I knew I was risking getting myself heartily disliked, and really I wouldn't blame you if you arose en masse and kicked me out. But I am desperate.
Everyone save Ailworth and Doyle was staring blankly at the fire. Ailworth dropped his eyes gravely; Doyle broke out explosively with: "Do you smoke, Satherwaite?" "Yes, but I'm afraid " he searched his pockets perfunctorily "I haven't my pipe with me." His cigarette case met his searching fingers, but somehow cigarettes did not seem appropriate.
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