The Vagabond

"Gentlemen, this examination will end promptly in twenty minutes." Pens scratch paper desperately. The Mem Hall clock tolls the death-knell,--twelve o'clock noon. Fifteen more minutes; then ten; then five. People are handing in their blue books, strolling out the door. Vag scrawls the last word in his blue book. Slowly he puts his pen away, closes his book, puts on his coat, drops his blue book in the box, and wanders out into the sunlight,--into freedom. All through!

Everything is quiet and hot. Figures across the street are walking leisurely. The leaves are still. There's no ripple on the grass. The sun is hot on the pavement. Men are wearing white shirts. It's summer! Vag eaunters across the Yard admiring the seasonal phenomenon, the gregness, the aims,--even Sever Hall. He walks slowly. There's no rush, no appointments, no assignments, not for three and a half months. He lights a cigarette, lets the smoke curl out of his mouth and hang in mid air motionless. No sir, no one could get him to walk fast now! He'd walk as slowly as he darned well wanted to. He'd even take the long way back to the house, just to show'em.

The afternoon drifts by. A bull session. A game of poker. A set of tennis. Dinner. The Vag sets out on a cruise to find some fellow freedmen. A Ford comes whipping by, top down, boys perched on the hood. Vag lets out a war-whoop. Brakes jam and squeal. "Hey, where you goin'?"

"Revere, C'mon along!"

Vag hops the running board, climbs over the door into the car, and they turn down on Memorial Drive.

Over Cottage Farm Bridge, down Commonwealth Ave., through the Sumner Tunnel, and the lights of the Cyclone heave in sight,--bright lights, climbing, falling, twisting. "I've been on that fool roller coaster three times in a row!" someone boasts.

"Humph. Kid stuff," says the driver.

"Okay, wise guy, so I suppose you'd take a five-time spin every morning before breakfast."

"Sure, I can do it five times without batting an eyelash."

"You do it five times in a row and I'll give you a fur-lined syrup pitcher!"

"It's a deal."

Listening to the two boys arguing, Vag suddenly realizes he's never been on a roller-coaster. Tonight's the night to start! "Seven times is my usual quota," says the Vag nonchalantly. "Anyone join me?"

"Seven! Holy cow !! Okay, though guy, I'll take you on."

Vag is a little numb as he climbs into the front seat of the roller-coaster. He mutters something about a coward dying a thousand times and plasters a grin on his face. A bell rings, somebody screams, and the cars begin to move. Seven times or bust! Vacation's on!