Then the crowd called for "Timber," and a man got up who had the queerest face Symington ever saw. He looked as if he were trying with all his might to look serious and would never succeed. Everyone began to laugh the moment Timberly stood up, especially his own classmates. And when he began to sing his comic ballad they laughed still more. When he finished, the audience clapped their hands and yelled. A crowd of juniors gave the college cheer and ended with the words "Timberly's Solo." In some respects Symington liked Timberly more than Brown. When Timberly at last, looking sad, sat down, Symington heard several voices saying "Everybody up." Those on the ground arose, and those in the windows jumped down. Symington got up too, though he did not know why, and took off his cap when he saw the captain do it. It was late twilight. The campus was becoming dusky. The faces were dim. The ball-throwing had ceased, and the little muckers had left. The elms were sighing softly overhead in a patriarchal sort of way. Symington thought everyone seemed more quiet and solemn than they were before. Perhaps he only imagined it. Then, with all the seniors on their feet, with their heads uncovered, the leader waved his white baton, and over one hundred voices sang "Tune every heart and every voice, Bid every care withdraw," and the rest of the college hymn. Many of the audience joined in, and nobody thought it fresh in them; and Symington would have liked to join in too, only he did not know how. He felt very queer for some reason, and forgot who was standing beside him for a moment. The poetry of the scene was getting into him. He didn't know that, of course, but he had a vague feeling that this was living, and that it was good for him to be there. When the hymn was finished the class cheered for itself and for the college, and for itself again; and the senior singing was over. From all over the front campus there suddenly broke out in many loud discordant keys, "Hello, Billy Minot" and "Hello, Jimmy Linton" and "hello" Johnnys and Harrys and Reddys and Dicks, and Drunks, and Deans, and Fathers, and Mables and horses and dogs and houses and others. As each found the man he wanted, an arm or two was thrown about a neck or two, and they started off for some other part of the campus or town. The captain had also helloed for someone. Symington was left alone for a moment. But he was not exactly alone. He listened to the scraps of talk as the fellows moved past. "Pretty good singing this evening.... Get to work now.... At Dohm's.... I told him to come up.... New York to get advertisements.... The Trigonometry.... Trials for the Gun Club.... _Princetonian_ Subscriptions now.... The mandolin to some girls that came to see the game with him.... You damn sour ball." Some of them were humming the last notes of the song. Others were saying nothing.