The Plastic Age, Percy Marks [top 10 books of all time TXT] 📗

Greatest Contribution--Carl's

Kane Blanket,  The Photographs Of The "Harem," Posters Of College

Athletes And Movie Bathing-Girls,  Pipe-Racks,  And Three Maxfield Parrish

Prints.

 

"It Certainly Is Fine," Said Hugh Proudly. "All We Need Is A Barber Pole

And A Street Sign."

 

"We'll Have 'Em Before The Week Is Out." This With Great Decision.

 

Chapter 4

 

Carl's Adviser Had Been Less Efficient Than Hugh's; Therefore He Knew

What His Courses Were,  Where The Classes Met And The Hours,  The Names Of

His Instructors,  And The Requirements Other Than Latin For A B.S.

Degree. Carl Said That He Was Taking A B.S. Because He Had Had A Year Of

Greek At Kane And Was Therefore Perfectly Competent To Make Full Use Of

The Language; He Could Read The Letters On The Front Doors Of The

Fraternity Houses.

 

The Boys Found That Their Courses Were The Same But That They Were In

Different Sections. Hugh Was In A Dilemma; He Could Make Nothing Out Of

His Card.

 

"Here," Said Carl,  "Give The Thing To Me. My Adviser Was A Good Scout

And Wised Me Up. This P.C. Isn't Paper Cutting As You Might Suppose;

It's Gym. You'll Get Out Of That By Signing Up For Track. P.C. Means

Physical Culture. Think Of That! You Can Sign Up For Track Any Time

To-Morrow Down At The Gym. And E I,  7 Means That You're In English I,

Section 7; And M Is Math. You Re In Section 3. Lat Means Latin,  Of

Course--Section 6. My Adviser--He Tried Pretty Hard To Be Funny--Said

That G.S. Wasn't Glorious Salvation But General Science. That Meets In

The Big Lecture Hall In Cranston. We All Go To That. And H I,  4 Means

That You Are In Section 4 Of History I. See? That's All There Is To It.

Now This Thing"--He Held Up A Printed Schedule--"Tells You Where The

Classes Meet."

 

With A Great Deal Of Labor,  Discussion,  And Profanity They Finally Got A

Schedule Made Out That Meant Something To Hugh. He Heaved A

Brobdingnagian Sigh Of Relief When They Finished.

 

"Well," He Exclaimed,  "That's That! At Last I Know Where I'm Going. You

Certainly Saved My Life. I Know Where All The Buildings Are; So It Ought

To Be Easy."

 

"Sure," Said Carl Encouragingly; "It's Easy. Now There's Nothing To Do

Till To-Morrow Until Eight Forty-Five When We Attend Chapel To The Glory

Of The Lord. I Think I'll Pray To-Morrow; I May Need It. Christ! I Hate

To Study."

 

"Me,  Too," Hugh Lied. He Really Loved Books,  But Somehow He Couldn't

Admit The Fact,  Which Had Suddenly Become Shameful,  To Carl. "Let's Go

To The Movies," He Suggested,  Changing The Subject For Safety.

 

"Right-O!" Carl Put On His Freshman Cap And Flung Hugh's To Him. "Gloria

Nielsen Is There,  And She's A Pash Baby. Ought To Be A Good Fillum."

 

The Blue And Orange--It Was The Only Movie Theater In Town--Was Almost

Full When The Boys Arrived. Only A Few Seats Near The Front Were Still

Vacant. A Freshman Started Down The Aisle,  His "Baby Bonnet" Stuck

Jauntily On The Back Of His Head.

 

"Freshman!"... "Kill Him!"... "Murder The Frosh!" Shouts Came From All

Parts Of The House,  And An Instant Later Hundreds Of Peanuts Shot

Swiftly At The Startled Freshman. "Cap! Cap! Cap Off!" There Was A Panic

Of Excitement. Upper-Classmen Were Standing On Their Chairs To Get Free

Throwing Room. The Freshman Snatched Off His Cap,  Drew His Head Like A

Scared Turtle Down Into His Coat Collar,  And Ran For A Seat. Hugh And

Carl Tucked Their Caps Into Their Coat Pockets And Attempted To Stroll

Nonchalantly Down The Aisle. They Hadn't Taken Three Steps Before The

Bombardment Began. Like Their Classmate,  They Ran For Safety.

 

Then Some One In The Front Of The Theatre Threw A Peanut At Some One In

The Rear. The Fight Was On! Yelling Like Madmen,  The Students Stood On

Their Chairs And Hurled Peanuts,  The Front And Rear Of The House

Automatically Dividing Into Enemy Camps. When The Fight Was At Its

Hottest,  Three Girls Entered.

 

"Wimmen! Wimmen!" As The Girls Walked Down The Aisle,  Infinitely Pleased

With Their Reception,  Five Hundred Men Stamped In Time With Their

Steps.

 

No Sooner Were The Girls Seated Than There Was A Scramble In One Corner,

An Excited Scuffling Of Feet. "I've Got It!" A Boy Screamed. He Stood On

His Chair And Held Up A Live Mouse By Its Tail. There Was A Shout Of

Applause And Then--"Play Catch!"

 

The Boy Dropped The Writhing Mouse Into A Peanut Bag,  Screwed The Open

End Tight-Closed,  And Then Threw The Bag Far Across The Room. Another

Boy Caught It And Threw It,  This Time Over The Girls' Heads. They

Screamed And Jumped Upon Their Chairs,  Holding Their Skirts,  And Dancing

Up And Down In Assumed Terror. Back Over Their Heads,  Back And Over,

Again And Again The Bagged Mouse Was Thrown While The Girls Screamed And

The Boys Roared With Delight. Suddenly One Of The Girls Threw Up Her

Arm,  Caught The Bag Deftly,  Held It For A Second,  And Then Tossed It

Into The Rear Of The Theater.

 

Cheers Of Terrifying Violence Broke Loose: "Ray! Ray! Atta Girl! Hot

Dog! Ray,  Ray!" And Then The Lights Went Out.

 

"Moosick! Moosick! Moo-_Sick_!" The Audience Stamped And Roared,

Whistled And Howled. "Moosick! We Want Moosick!"

 

The Pianist,  An Undergraduate,  Calmly Strolled Down The Aisle.

 

"Get A Move On!"... "Earn Your Salary!"... "Give Us Moosick!"

 

The Pianist Paused To Thumb His Nose Casually At The Entire Audience,

And Then Amid Shouts And Hisses Sat Down At The Piano And Began To Play

"Love Nest."

 

Immediately The Boys Began To Whistle,  And As The Comedy Was Utterly

Stupid,  They Relieved Their Boredom By Whistling The Various Tunes That

The Pianist Played Until The Miserable Film Flickered Out.

 

Then The "Feature" And The Fun Began. During The Stretches Of Pure

Narrative,  The Boys Whistled,  But When There Was Any Real Action They

Talked. The Picture Was A Melodrama Of "Love And Hate," As The

Advertisement Said.

 

The Boys Told The Actors What To Do; They Revealed To Them The Secrets

Of The Plot. "She's Hiding Behind The Door,  Harold. No,  No! Not That

Way. Hey,  Dumbbell--Behind The Door."... "Catch Him,  Gloria; He's Only

Shy!"... "No,  That's Not Him!"

 

The Climactic Fight Brought Shouts Of Encouragement--To The Villain.

"Kill Him!"... "Shoot One To His Kidneys!"... "Ahhhhh," As The Villain

Hit The Hero In The Stomach.... "Muss His Hair. Attaboy!"... "Kill The

Skunk!" And Finally Groans Of Despair When The Hero Won His Inevitable

Victory.

 

But It Was The Love Scenes That Aroused The Greatest Ardor And Joy. The

Hero Was Given Careful Instructions. "Some Neckin',  Harold!"... "Kiss

Her! Kiss Her! Ahhh!"... "Harold,  Harold,  You're Getting Rough!"...

"She's Vamping You,  Harold!"... "Stop It; Gloria; He's A Good Boy." And

So On Until The Picture Ended In The Usual Close-Up Of The Hero And

Heroine Silhouetted In A Tender Embrace Against The Setting Sun. The

Boys Breathed "Ahhhh" And "Ooooh" Ecstatically--And Laughed. The

Meretricious Melodrama Did Not Fool Them,  But They Delighted In Its

Absurdities.

 

The Lights Flashed On And The Crowd Filed Out,  "Wise-Cracking" About The

Picture And Commenting Favorably On The Heroine's Figure. There Were

Shouts To This Fellow Or That Fellow To Come On Over And Play Bridge,

And Suggestions Here And There To Go To A Drug Store And Get A Drink.

 

Hugh And Carl Strolled Home Over The Dark Campus,  Both Of Them Radiant

With Excitement,  Hugh Frankly So.

 

"Golly,  I Did Enjoy That," He Exclaimed. "I Never Had A Better Time. It

Was Sure Hot Stuff. I Don't Want To Go To The Room; Let's Walk For A

While."

 

"Yeah,  It Was Pretty Good," Carl Admitted. "Nope,  I Can't Go Walking;

Gotta Write A Letter."

 

"Who To? The Harem?"

 

Carl Hunched His Shoulders Until His Ears Touched His Coat Collar.

"Gettin' Cold. Fall's Here. Nope,  Not The Harem. My Old Lady."

 

Hugh Looked At Him Bewildered. He Was Finding Carl More And More A

Conundrum. He Consistently Called His Mother His Old Lady,  Insisted That

She Was A Damned Nuisance--And Wrote To Her Every Night. Hugh Was

Writing To His Mother Only Twice A Week. It Was Very Confusing....

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

Capwell Chapel--It Bore The Pork Merchant's Name As An Eternal Memorial

To Him--Was As Impressive Inside As Out. The Stained-Glass Windows Had

Been Made By A Famous New York Firm; The Altar Had Been Designed By An

Even More Famous Sculptor. The Walls,  Quite Improperly,  Were Adorned

With Paintings Of Former Presidents,  But The Largest Painting Of All--It

Was Fairly Gargantuan--Was Of The Pork Merchant,  A Large,  Ruddy

Gentleman,  Whom The Artist,  A Keen Observer,  Had Painted

Truly--Complacently Porcine,  Benevolently Smug.

 

The Seniors And Juniors Sat In The Nave,  The Sophomores On The Right

Side Of The Transept,  The Freshmen On The Left. Hugh Gazed Upward In Awe

At The Dim Recesses Of The Vaulted Ceiling,  At The Ornately Carved Choir

Where Gowned Students Were Quietly Seating Themselves,  At The Colored

Light Streaming Through The Beautiful Windows,  At The Picture Of The

Pork Merchant. The Chapel Bells Ceased Tolling; Rich,  Solemn Tones

Swelled From The Organ.

 

President Culver In Cap And Gown,  His Purple Hood Falling Over His

Shoulders,  Entered Followed By His Faculty,  Also Gowned And Hooded. The

Students Rose And Remained Standing Until The President And Faculty Were

Seated. The Organ Sounded A Final Chord,  And Then The College Chaplain

Rose And Prayed--Very Badly. He Implored The Lord To Look Kindly "On

These Young Men Who Have Come From Near And Far To Drink From This Great

Fount Of Learning,  This Well Of Wisdom."

 

The Prayer Over,  The President Addressed The Students. He Was A Large,

Erect Man With Iron-Gray Hair And A Rugged Intelligent Face. Although He

Was Sixty Years Old,  His Body Was Vigorous And Free From Extra Weight.

He Spoke Slowly And Impressively,  Choosing His Words With Care And

Enunciating Them With Great Distinctness. His Address Was For The

Freshmen: He Welcomed Them To Sanford College,  To Its Splendid

Traditions,  Its High Ideals,  Its Noble History. He Spoke Of The Famous

Men It Numbered Among Its Sons,  Of The Work They Had Done For America

And The World,  Of The Work He Hoped Future Sanford Men,  They,  The

Freshmen,  Would Some Day Do For America And The World. He Mentioned

Briefly The Boys From Sanford Who Had Died In The World War "To Make The

World Safe For Democracy," And He Prayed That Their Sacrifice Had Not

Been In Vain. Finally,  He Spoke Of The Chapel Service,  Which The

Students Were Required To Attend. He Hoped That They Would Find

Inspiration In It,  Knowledge And Strength. He Assured Them That The

Service Would Always Be Nonsectarian,  That There Would Never Be Anything

In It To Offend Any One Of Any Race,  Creed,  Or Religion. With A Last

Exhortation To The Freshmen To Make The Most Of Their Great

Opportunities,  He Ended With The Announcement That They Would Rise And

Sing The Sixty-Seventh Hymn.

 

Hugh Was Deeply Impressed By The Speech But Disturbed By The Students.

From Where He Sat He Got An Excellent View Of The Juniors And Seniors.

The Seniors,  Who Sat In The Front Of The Nave,  Seemed To Be Paying

Fairly Good Attention; But The Juniors--Many Of Them,  At Least--Paid No

Attention At All. Some Of Them Were Munching Apples,  Some Doughnuts,  And

Many Of Them Were Reading "The Sanford News," The College's Daily Paper.

Some Of The Juniors Talked During The