When they reached their seats, after a long and tedious climb which Kingsford declared was harder than ascending the Jungfrau, Muir, who had walked with Betty from the square, was detailed to the farther seat. Kingsford sent his mother in next, then Phillip, followed by Betty, Miss Wayland and himself. It was not until then that Phillip had a fair look at the young lady who was to talk Emerson and Thoreau to him. And it was then that he experienced his second surprise. Betty Kingsford was small, rather slight, with a good deal of very rebellious hair of a light brown shade which Phillip didn’t remember ever having seen before, and which was continually being blown across her face and continually drawn away again. Her eyes were deeply brown. Phillip discovered this just after Harvard had made her first touchdown, and the discovery, for some inexplicable reason, came to him as a shock and seemed for weeks afterward to be the most wonderful and momentous discovery of recent years. Her cheeks were like――well, to use Phillip’s own simile, a simile which he honestly believed he had invented, they were like wild pink roses. When she laughed, which was frequently, she showed a number of small and very even teeth of marvelous whiteness. When she smiled, which was pretty much all the time, she caused a dimple to appear on each cheek. After that day the tune of “Up the Street” was associated in Phillip’s mind with pink cheeks and dimples, laughing brown eyes, and wind-loosened tresses. Phillip’s chronology of the game would, if written, run something like this: 2 P. M. First spoke to Miss Kingsford. 2:15 Discovered that her eyes were dark-brown and that her hair was the colour of beech leaves in autumn. 2:25 The left-hand dimple is a trifle deeper than the right-hand dimple. 2:30 She has the nicest, rippling sort of a laugh you ever heard. 2:45 Our hands touched under the rug; I don’t think she knew it. 2:55 She likes Virginia and has been in our part of it. 3:05 She dropped her score-card. It went under the seat and she accepted mine. 3:15 She is going to make Everett give a tea in his room some afternoon. I am to be there. 3:30 She leaned across me to talk to her mother and her hair blew against my face. It smelled awfully sweet, like violets or――or something. 3:40 We all stood up and shouted and waved our arms. When we sat down again she let me tuck the rug about her. She laughed. 3:50 I am going to call some afternoon. And I am to go in for dinner some night; her mother asked me. 3:55 When we got up I found her score-card and she said I might keep it. I kept it. Harvard won. I don’t know the score.