It took a long time for the little party to reach their seats, for the surging crowd ahead of them demanded attention, but each and all jostled along without a shade of impatience. Jean thought she had seen numberless girls at college, but now it seemed as if all the girls together would not have filled a single section. Where could they all have come from? At last they were seated in a section which the boys declared couldn't be better and they had a good half-hour to view the crowds and the players before the game began. Tom and his room-mate recognized fellows all around them, for almost every one in Yale had come to the game and they took great pleasure in pointing out the celebrities. "See, there's Tad Bronson, two rows below us, captain of next year's baseball team. Isn't that girl with him a peach? They say they're engaged. She came all the way from Chicago for the game." "There's Prexy down in the front row, and that man just rising is Prof. Hamilton. He flunks more men in college than all of the rest of the profs together." "See, here comes our fellows, Tubbie Spencer in the lead. Wait till you see how he can play. What's the matter? Why don't we give them a cheer? Well, here's Billy Knowlton, cheer leader for this section; he'll start 'em up," and in a moment the most deafening noise that Jean had ever heard rose from the Yale side. Cheer followed cheer, and songs were occasionally intermingled. Jean found herself joining in as excitedly as the boys and in a little while knew all the Yale players and most of the Harvard ones. Promptly at two o'clock the referee blew his whistle and the two elevens lined up for the first kick-off. From then until ten minutes after four there was not a dull moment. The ball was back and forth over the field, first on Harvard's ground and then on Yale's. The playing was more even than it had been for years and at the end of the second half the score was 6-5 in favor of Harvard. Jean was so disappointed she could hardly keep back the tears that had started to her eyes, and she cried out, "I think it's a downright shame! To think you should be beaten at my first Harvard-Yale, Mr. Thornton! I just hate Harvard." "Yes, it is hard luck, and my greatest regret is that I can't look forward to next year to see Yale trim them. That's the worst of being a senior; everything you do this year is for the last time. I envy you being a freshman with four good years ahead of you. They're the best years of your life, take my word for it. I'd give a good deal if I were beginning it all over again. Of course I shall always try to go to the big games, but it will never be the same as when you're an undergraduate. See the fellows down there forming the procession. They'll march up and down the Stadium several times and throw their hats up over the goals. No one ever expects to get his own hat back, but it's all part of the game. They'd better celebrate to-day, for they may not have another chance again."