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Updated: May 10, 2025
"Hi, give me that!" yelled Larkspur. "All right, here you are," answered Tom merrily, and turned the stream of water directly in the sophomore's face. Larkspur spluttered and shied and then plunged to one side into a fellow student standing near. This was Dudd Flockley, and he was carried down on his back.
One man, who pressed clothes for a living and carried a large line of cigarettes in his room, was second vice-president of the sophomore class. As smoking was dourly forbidden to all Platonians, the sophomore's room was a refuge. The sophomore encouraged Carl in his natural talent for cheerful noises, while Plain Smith objected even to singing while one dressed.
"Shall we go in and take him?" asked an excited youngster. "I'll give him a chance to come easy," said Halleck. He squared himself, adjusted his dusty hat, and went straight up the steps. "Excuse me, Mr. Smith," said he, "you are forgetting an engagement you made with some of your friends yesterday." This was the freshest thing in the history of the college. The Sophomore's fingers twitched.
The girls who would have substituted for Elinor in the afternoon ramble took up much of the big sophomore's time, and he never seemed more gay nor care free. And Elinor, if she had a heartache, did not show it in her happy manner. On the afternoon before the ball game, a May thunderstorm swept the Walnut Valley and the darkness fell early.
His fervent young spirit would not be silent until, with one magnificent gesture, he had swept the tobacco jar to the floor and shattered two electric lamps. Then he went to his room and left me wondering at the vast mysteries that underlie the rough surface of the sophomore's soul. "I have given up books and pictures," said Cooper.
She had never forgiven Ruth for the contemptible manner in which she had treated Marjorie the previous year, and she could not resist the temptation to do everything in her power to get even. So she set about to discover the sophomore's plan, and to outwit the girls if she could.
The last two words Ripley uttered in so low a tone that the principal, gazing in horrified fascination at the pin that he now held in his own hands, did not hear. "You coward!" cried Dick, hotly, and clenched his fist, intent on driving it against the sophomore's face. But Dr. Thornton knew enough about High School boys' fights, to galvanize himself into action.
Some of the freshmen meekly accepted the penalty rather than divulge their secret affections, one declared that she hadn't a crush, one, remembering the legend of Georgia Ames, made up a sophomore's name and after she had been safely "passed" exulted over the simplicity of her victims.
They dragged him home on the run, taking the road this time and making all haste to the house. The half-dead initiate had to be carried upstairs. Smith took off the rope and told him to strip for a bath. The victim sat on the edge of the Sophomore's bed and shook his head feebly. He was evidently exhausted. "Come, hurry up, Haviland," said Cap.
He had asked about the book in the first place for something to talk of, for the roaring of the wind through the hut's rafters distracted him. He desired to hear the squatter say something it all seemed so much like a dream that he feared to awaken only to find himself in the empty house with the sophomore's revolver staring at him.
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