Dink Stover, freshman, chose his seat in the afternoon express that would soon be rushing him to New Haven and his first glimpse of Yale University. He leisurely divested himself of his trim overcoat,...

He found the house in York Street, a low, whitewashed frame building, luminous under the black canopy of the overtowering elms. At the door there was a little resistance and a guarded voice cried: “Wh...

Tough McCarthy was in the communal rooms, busily delving into the recesses of a circus trunk, from which, from time to time, he emerged with the loot of the combined McCarthy family. “Dink, my boy, ca...

Stover had never been on the Yale field except through the multitudinous paths of his imagination. Huddled in the car crowded with candidates, he waited the first glimpse as Columbus questioned the sk...

“Hello, there, Stover!” “Stover, over here!” “Oh, Dink Stover, this way!” Over the bared heads of the bobbing, shifting crowd he saw Hunter and McCarthy waving to him. He made his way through the stra...

Stover fondly dreamed, that night, of his triumphal appearance on the field the following day, greeted by admiring glances and cordial handshakes, placed at once on the second eleven, watched with new...

After a week of grueling practise, the first game of the season came like a holiday. Stover was called out after the first few minutes, replacing Bangs, and remained until the close. He played well, a...

The intensity and seriousness of the football season abetted Stover in his new attitude of Napoleonic seclusion by leaving him little time for the lighter side of college pleasures. Every hour was tak...

The last week of the football season broke over them before Stover could realize that the final test was almost at hand. The full weight of the responsibility that was on him oppressed him day and nig...

Almost before he knew it Stover was in the car and the wheels were moving at last irresistibly toward the field. There was no longer any pretense in those last awful moments that had in them all the c...

After the drudgery of the football season he had a few short weeks of gorgeous idleness, during which he browsed through a novel a day, curled up on his window-seat, rolling tobacco clouds through the...

The first weeks of the competition for the crew were not exacting, and consisted mostly of eliminating processes. Stover had consequently still enough leisure to gravitate naturally into that necessit...

With Stover’s return after the Christmas vacation the full significance of the society dominion burst over him. The night that the hold-offs were to be given, there was a little joking at the club tab...

When a freshman has been invited to dinner and in a rash moment accepted the invitation and lived through the agony, he usually pays his party call (always supposing that he has imbibed a certain amou...

When Stover returned after the summer vacation to the full glory of a sophomore, he had changed in many ways. The consciousness of success had given him certain confidence and authority, which, if it ...

The hours that Dink Stover sat puffing his pipe before the yellow-eyed owls that blinked to him from the crackling fireplace were hours of revolution. His imagination, stirred by the recital of Swazey...

The next afternoon Stover passed Brockhurst going to dinner. “Hello,” he said, with a cordial wave of the hand. “Hello,” said Brockhurst, with a little avoidance, for he had a certain physical timidit...

Stover went rushing from the Storys’ home, and away for a long feverish march along dusky avenues, where unseen leaves came whirling against him. He was humiliated, mortified beyond expression, in a p...

It was only a little after nine. He had left in the company of Joe Hungerford, who had ostensibly taken the opportunity of going with him. “I say, Dink,” he began directly, in the blustering, full-mou...

For an hour, bareheaded, he went plunging into the darkness, a prey to a nervous crisis, that left him shaking in every muscle. He knew the extent of his passions, and the anger which had swept over h...

Night after night, Wookey, the little freshman from a mountain village of Maine, the shadow of a grind, whom no one knew in his class, and who would never know anyone, waited over his books the hour o...

What Stover in his fuddled consciousness had said to little Wookey on that last wild night returned to him with doubled force in the white of the day. He had given his opponents the right to destroy a...

When Stover returned to college as a junior, he showed the results of his summer with Regan. He had gone into construction gangs, and learned to obey and to command. He had had a glimpse of what the s...

Once Stover had reconciled himself to the loss of a senior society election, he found ample compensation in the absolute liberty of action that came to him. It was not that he condemned this parent sy...

When he had returned to the college after the summer, he came to his first call on Jean Story with a confident enthusiasm, eager for the first look in her eyes. He had not corresponded with her during...

When Stover returned to his rooms, it was long after supper. “Where the deuce have you been?” said Hungerford, looking up from his books. “Went for a drive, got home late,” said Stover shortly. He fil...

One result of Stover’s sobering experience with Fanny Le Roy was that he met the problem of the senior elections with directness and honesty. What Brockhurst had said of the injurious effect of secrec...