The Plastic Age

rd has become a university of vast proportions and no color. Yale flounders about among the New Haven shops, trying to rise above them. The Harkness Memorial to

restle with learning and, if need be, with Satan himself. Satan was ever before Hezekiah, and he fought him valiantly, exorcising him every morning in chapel and ever

passed to his reward, leaving three thousand acres, his library of five hundred books, mostly sermons, Sanford Hall, and a charter that opened

usly. Only the hill and its beautiful surroundings remained the same. Indian Lake, on the south of the campus, still sparkled in the sunlight; on the east t

al buildings, their windows outlined by English ivy; ponderous Romanesque buildings made of stone, grotesque and hideous; a pseudo-Gothic chapel with a tower of surpassing loveliness; and four laboratories of the purest factory design. But despite the conglomer

uffled the surface into tiny waves. The hills already brilliant with color-scarlet, burnt orange, mauve, and purple-flamed up to meet the clear blue sky; the elms softly rustled their dryi

e was more than three hundred miles from Merrytown, his home-and he was wild to find his room in Surrey Hall. He wondered how he would like his room-mate, Peters.... What's his name? Oh, yes, Carl.

ch he parted on the side and which curled despite all his brushing. His crystalline blue eyes, his small, neatly carved nos

a fellow who could run the hundred in 10: 2 and out-box anybody in high school wasn't such a baby. Why, he had overheard one of the old maid teachers call him sweet. Sweet!

of those who were streaming up the hill before and behind him, who passed him or whom he

s the college argot has it, "smooth"; boys from city schools, not so well dressed perhaps, certainly not so sure of themselves; and count

way about. Eager as he was to reach Surrey Hall, he paused to admire the pseudo-Gothic chapel. He felt a little thrill of pride as h

ine mosque, paused five times to direct confused classmates, passed a dull red colonial b

a corridor until he found a

in." The voice was

tennis-rackets, and photographs-dozens of photographs, all of them of girls apparently. In the middle of the room a boy was on his knees before an open trunk. He had sleek black hair, parted meticulously

clear voice as Hugh

. "I'm Carver," he an

ng, to Hugh's surprise, golf knickers. He

hat." He held out his hand. "I'm Carl Peters, th

h a quick laugh to hide his embarrassment. "Maybe you'll need a little of God's

f clothes off a trunk to the floor with one sweep of his arm. "Rest yourself after climbing that goddamn hill. Christ! It'

used to profanity; he had heard plenty of that in Merrytown, but he didn't expect somehow that a college man-that is, a prep-school man-wo

t here. Quite the darb. Three rooms, you know; a bedroom for each of us and this big study.

dered stinginess. He hastened to explain that he didn't know what Carl wou

nly used the old bean. Say, I've got a hell of a lot of truck here, and if you'd a brought much, we'd a been swamped.... Say, I'll tell you how we fix this dump."

em," he said, making a poor

m," replied Hug

r, and that was all. He'd write to Helen for one right away. "

e janes. I collected ten at Bar Harbor this summer and three at Christmas Cove. Say, this kid-" he fished through a pile of pictures-"was the hotte

of their exploits by the Merrytown Don Juans, but this good-looking, sophisticated lad evidently had a technique and breadth

ring up my trunk?"

d forgotten all ab

er. Then they returned to 19 Surrey and rearranged the furniture once more, pausing occasionally to chat while Carl smoked. He offered Hug

h a damn myself, but I'm not bad at tennis-not very good, either. Say, if

ugh, "my fathe

rtainly are set. Well, my old man never went to college, but I want to tell you t

ed, staring at him i

at ever lived-the best damned old scout that ever lived." His sophistication was all gone; he was just a

ure, I know," he said softly. The

ss in a broad grin. "I'm a fish,"

sai