“Oh lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my cheeks and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;
Oh! press it close to thine again
Where it will break at last.”
There was silence for a moment after Hugh fin¬ ished. The shadows, the moonlight, the boy’s soft young voice had moved them all. Suddenly a girl on the veranda cried, “Bring him up!” Instantly half a dozen others turned to their escorts, insist¬ ing shrilly: “Bring him up. We want to see him.”
Hugh jerked the guitar cord from around his neck, handed the instrument to Codings, and tried to run. A burst of laughter went up from the freshmen. They caught him and held him fast un¬ til the Tuxedo-clad upper-classmen rushed down from the veranda and had him by the arms. They pulled him, protesting and struggling, upon the ve¬ randa and into the living-room.
The girls gathered around him, praising, demand¬ ing more. He flushed scarlet when one enthusiastic maiden forced her way through the ring, looked hard at him, and then announced positively, “I think he’s sweet.” He was intensely embarrassed, in an agony of confusion—but very happy. The
