The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) 📕

Was Over.

On Such Nights,  However,  The Singing Really Continued For Hours. The

Glee Club Often Sang From The Union Steps; Groups Of Boys Wandered Arm

In Arm Around The Campus Singing; On Every Fraternity Steps There Were

Youths Strumming Banjos And Others "Harmonizing": Here,  There,

Everywhere Young Voices Were Lifted In Song--Not Joyous Nor Jazzy But

Plaintive And Sentimental. Adeline's Sweetness Was Extolled By Unsure

Barytones And "Whisky" Tenors; And The Charms Of Rosie O'grady Were

Chanted In "Close Harmony" In Every Corner Of The Campus:

                "Sweet Rosie O'grady,

                 She's My Pretty Rose;

                 She's My Pretty Lady,

                 As Every One Knows.

                 And When We Are Married,

                 Oh,  How Happy We'll Be,

                 For I Love Sweet Rosie O'grady

                 And Rosie O'grady Loves Me."

Hugh Loved Those Nights: The Shadows Of The Elms,  The Soft Spring

Moonlight,  The Twanging Banjos,  The Happy Singing. He Would Never,  So

Long As He Lived,  Hear "Rosie O'grady" Without Surrendering To A Tender,

Sentimental Mood; That Song Would Always Mean The Campus And Singing

Youth.

Suddenly Examinations Threw Their Baleful Influence Over The Campus

Again. Once More The Excitement,  But Not So Great This Time,  The

Cramming,  The Rumors Of Examinations "Getting Out," The Seminars,  The

Tutoring Sections,  The Nervousness,  The Fear.

Hugh,  However,  Was Surer Of Himself Than He Had Been The First Term,  And

Although He Had No Reason To Be Proud Of The Grades He Received,  He Was

Not Particularly Ashamed Of Them.

He And Carl Left The Same Day But By Different Trains. They Had Agreed

To Room Together Again In Surrey 19; So They Didn't Feel That The

Parting For The Summer Was Very Important.

"You'll Write,  Won't You,  Old Man?"

"Sure,  Hugh--Surest Thing You Know. Say,  It Don't Seem Possible That Our

Freshman Year's Over Already. Why,  Hell,  Hugh,  We're Sophomores."

"So We Are! What Do You Know About That?" Hugh's Eyes Shone. "Gosh!"

Carl Looked At His Watch. "Hell,  I've Got To Beat It." He Picked Up His

Suit-Case,  Dropped It,  Shook Hands Vigorously With Hugh,  Snatched Up His

Suit-Case,  And Was Off With A Final,  "Good-By,  Hugh,  Old Boy," Sounding

Behind Him.

Hugh Settled Back Into A Chair. He Had Half An Hour To Wait.

"A Sophomore.... Gosh!"

Hugh Spent The Summer At Home,  Working On The Farm,  Reading A Little,

And Occasionally Visiting A Lake Summer Resort A Few Miles Away. Helen

Had Left Merrytown To Attend A Secretarial School In A Neighboring City,

And Hugh Was Genuinely Glad To Find Her Gone When He Returned From

College. Helen Was Becoming Not Only A Bore But A Problem. Besides,  He

Met A Girl At Corley Lake,  The Summer Resort,  Whom He Found Much More

Fascinating. For A Month Or Two He Thought That He Was In Love With

Janet Harton. Night After Night He Drove To Corley Lake In His Father's

Car,  Sometimes Dancing With Janet In The Pavilion,  Sometimes Canoeing

With Her On The Lake,  Sometimes Taking Her For Long Rides In The Car,

But Often Merely Wandering Through The Pines With Her Or Sitting On The

Shore Of The Lake And Staring At The Rippling Water.

Janet Was Small And Delicate; She Seemed Almost Fragile. She Did

Everything Daintily--Like A Little Girl Playing Tea-Party. Her Hands And

Feet Were Exquisitely Small,  Her Features Childlike And Indefinite,

Except Her Little Coral Mouth,  Which Was As Clearly Outlined With Color

As A Doll's And As Mobile As A Fluttering Leaf. She Had Wide Blue Eyes

And Hair That Was Truly Golden. Strangely,  She Had Not Bobbed It But

Wore It Bound Into A Shining Coil Around Her Head.

Hugh Wrote A Poem To Her. It Began Thus:

                Maiden With The Clear Blue Eyes,

                Lady With The Golden Hair,

                Exquisite Child,  Serenely Wise,

                Sweetly Tender,  Morning Fair.

He Wasn't Sure That It Was A Very Good Poem; There Was Something

Reminiscent About The First Line,  And He Was Dubious About "Morning

Fair." He Had,  However,  Studied German For A Year In High School,  And He

Guessed That If _Morgenschön_ Was All Right In German It Was All Right

In English,  Too.

They Rarely Talked. Hugh Was Content To Sit For Hours With The Delicate

Child Nestling In His Arm,  Her Hand Lying Passive And Cool In His. She

Made Him Feel Very Strong And Protective. Nights,  He Dreamed Of Doing

Brave Deeds For Her,  Of Saving Her From Terrible Dangers. At First Her

Vague,  Fleeting Kisses Thrilled Him,  But As The Weeks Went By And His

Passion Grew,  He Found Them Strangely Unsatisfying.

When She Cuddled Her Lovely Head In The Hollow Of His Shoulder,  He

Would Lean Forward And Whisper: "Kiss Me,  Janet. Kiss Me." Obediently

She Would Turn Her Face Upward,  Her Little Mouth Pursed Into A Coral

Bud,  But If He Held Her Too Tightly Or Prolonged The Kiss,  She Pushed

Him Away Or Turned Her Face. Then He Felt Repelled,  Chilled. She Kissed

Him Much As She Kissed Her Mother Every Night,  And He Wanted--Well He

Didn't Quite Know What He Did Want Except That He Didn't Want To Be

Kissed _That_ Way.

Finally He Protested. "What's The Matter,  Janet?" He Asked Gently.

"Don't You Love Me?"

"Of Course," She Answered Calmly In Her Small Flute-Like Voice; "Of

Course I Love You,  But You Are So Rough. You Mustn't Kiss Me Hard Like

That; It Isn't Nice."

Nice! Hugh Felt As If She Had Slapped His Face. Then He Knew That She

Didn't Understand At All. He Tried To Excuse Her By Telling Himself That

She Was Just A Child--She Was Within A Year Of His Own Age--And That She

Would Love Him The Way He Did Her When She Grew Older; But Down In His

Heart He Sensed The Fact That She Wasn't Capable Of Love,  That She

Merely Wanted To Be Petted And Caressed As A Child Did. The Shadows And

The Moonlight Did Not Move Her As They Did Him,  And She Thought That He

Was Silly When He Said That He Could Hear A Song In The Night Breeze.

She Had Said That His Poem Was Very Pretty. That Was All. Well,  Maybe

It Wasn't A Very Good Poem,  But It Had--Well,  It Had--It Had Something

In It That Wasn't Just Pretty.

He Began To Visit The Lake Less Often And To Wish That September And The

Opening Of College Would Arrive. When The Day Finally Came To Return,  He

Was Almost As Much Excited As He Had Been The Year Before. Gosh! It

Would Be Good To See Carl Again. The Bum Had Written Only Once. Yeah,

And Pudge Jamieson,  Too,  And Larry Stillwell,  And Bill Freeman,

And--Yes,  By Golly! Merton Billings. He'd Be Glad To See Old Fat

Billings. He Wondered If Merton Was As Fat As Ever And As Pure. And All

The Brothers At The Nu Delta House. He'd Been Too Busy To Get Really

Acquainted With Them Last Year; But This Year,  By Gosh,  He'd Get To Know

All Of Them. It Certainly Would Be Great To Be Back And Be A Sophomore

And Make The Little Frosh Stand Around.

He Didn't Carry His Suit-Case Up The Hill This Time; He Checked It And

Sent A Freshman For It Later. When He Arrived At Surrey 19 Carl Was

Already There--And He Was Kneeling Before A Trunk When Hugh Walked Into

The Room. Both Of Them Instantly Remembered The Identical Scene Of The

Year Before.

Carl Jumped To His Feet. "Hullo--Who Are You?" He Demanded,  His Face

Beaming.

Hugh Pretended To Be Frightened And Shy. "I'm Hugh Carver. I--I Guess

I'm Going To Room With You."

"You Sure Are!" Yelled Carl,  Jumping Over The Trunk And Landing On Hugh.

"God! I'm Glad To See You. Put It There." They Shook Hands And Stared At

Each Other With Shining Eyes.

Then They Began To Talk,  Interrupting Each Other,  Gesticulating,

Occasionally Slapping Each Other Violently On The Back Or Knee,  Shouting

With Laughter As One Of Them Told Of A Summer Experience That Struck

Them As Funny. They Were Both So Glad To Get Back To College,  So Glad To

See Each Other,  That They Were Almost Hysterical. And When They Left

Surrey 19 Arm In Arm On Their Way To The Nu Delta House "To See The

Brothers," Their Cup Of Bliss Was Full To The Brim And Running Over.

"Criminy,  The Ol' Campus Sure Does Look Good," Said Hugh Ecstatically.

"Watch The Frosh Work." He Was Suddenly Reminded Of Something. "Hey,

Freshman!" He Yelled At A Big,  Red-Faced Youngster Who Was To Be

Full-Back On The Football Team A Year Hence.

The Freshman Came On A Run. "Yes--Yes,  Sir?"

"Here's A Check. Take It Down To The Station And Get My Suit-Case. Take

It Up To Surrey Nineteen And Put It In The Room. The Door's Open. Hurry

Up Now; I'm Going To Want It Pretty Soon."

"Yes,  Sir. I'll Hurry." And The Freshman Was Off Running.

Hugh And Carl Grinned At Each Other,  Linked Arms Again,  And Continued

Their Way Across The Campus. When They Entered The Nu Delta House A

Shout Went Up. "Hi,  Carl! Hi,  Hugh! Glad To See You Back. Didya Have A

Good Summer? Put It There,  Ol' Kid"--And They Shook Hands,  Gripping Each

Other's Forearm At The Same Time.

Hugh Tried Hard To Become A Typical Sophomore And Failed Rather Badly.

He Retained Much Of The Shyness And Diffidence That Gives The Freshman

His Charm,  And He Did Not Succeed Very Well In Acquiring The Swagger,

The Cocky,  Patronizing Manner,  The Raucous Self-Assurance That

Characterize The True Sophomore.

He Found,  Too,  That He Couldn't Lord It Over The Freshmen Very Well,  And

At Times He Was Nothing Less Than A Renegade To His Class. He Was

Constantly Giving Freshmen Correct Information About Their Problems,  And

During The Dormitory Initiations He More Than Once Publicly Objected To

Some "Stunt" That Seemed To Him Needlessly Insulting To The Initiates.

Because He Was An Athlete,  His Opinion Was Respected,  And Quite

Unintentionally He Won Several Good Friends Among The Freshmen. His

Objections Had All Been Spontaneous,  And He Was Rather Sorry About Them

Afterward. He Felt That He Must Be Soft,  That He Ought To Be Able To

Stand Anything That Anybody Else Could. Further,  He Felt That There

Must Be Something Wrong With His Sense Of Humor; Things That Struck Lots

Of His Classmates As Funny Seemed Merely Disgusting To Him.

He Wanted Very Much To Tell Carl About Janet,  But For Several Weeks The

Opportunity Did Not Present Itself. There Was Too Much Excitement About

The Campus; The Mood Of The Place Was All Wrong,  And Hugh,  Although He

Didn't Know It,  Was Very Sensitive To Moods And Atmosphere.

Finally One Night In October He And Carl Were Seated In Their Big Chairs

Before The Fire. They Had Been Walking That Afternoon,  And Hugh Had Been

Swept Outside Of Himself By The Brilliance Of The Autumn Foliage. He Was

Emotionally And Physically Tired,  Feeling That Vague,  Melancholy

Happiness That Comes After An Intense But Pleasant Experience. Carl

Leaned Back To The Center-Table And Switched Off The Study Light.

"Pleasanter With Just The Firelight," He Said Quietly. He,  Too,  Had

Something That He Wanted To Tell,  And The Less Light The Better.

Hugh Sighed And Relaxed Comfortably Into His Chair. The Shadows Were

Thick And Mysterious Behind Them; The Flames Leaped Merrily In The

Fireplace. Both Boys Sat Silent,  Staring Into The Fire.

Finally Hugh Spoke.

"I Met A Girt This Summer,  Carl," He Said Softly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Little Peach. Awf'lly Pretty. Dainty,  You Know. Awf'lly

Dainty--Like A Little Kid. You Know."

Carl Had Slumped Down Into His Chair. He Was Smoking His Pipe And

Staring Pensively At The Flames. "Un-Huh. Go On."

"Well,  I Fell Pretty Hard. She Was So--Er,  Dainty. She Always Reminded

Me Of A Little Girl Playing Lady. She Had Golden Hair And Blue Eyes,  The

Bluest Eyes I've Ever Seen; Oh,  Lots Bluer Than Mine,  Lots Bluer. And

Little Bits Of Hands And Feet."

Carl Continued To Puff His Pipe And Stare At The Fire. "Pet?" He Asked

Dreamily.

"Uh-Huh. Yeah,  She Petted--But She Was Kinda Funny--Cold,  You Know,  And

Kinda Scared. Gee,  Carl,  I Was Crazy