The Vagabond

Vag shuffled slowly through the Yard. He was drearily humming the tune whose words went ". . . sleeping in the noonday sun." It seemed the whole city of Cambridge was sleeping, like some Italian village. The rush and stir of exams, Commencement, and Reunion had passed. Tercentenary Theater had returned to its unknown lair from which it would not emerge until next June; the Yard was shady, quiet, and deserted. Ivy-covered Widener frowned down on ivy-covered Emerson and ivy-covered Sever. Vag was sorry that he had stayed in Cambridge. Better to have gone almost anywhere--New York, Maine; but he had chosen a couple of weeks of rest, and now it was almost time for the summer term to open.

As he strolled past Widener toward Wigglesworth gate, Vag uncovered the one spot of activity in the Yard. Ground was being cleared for the Lamont Library, and the power shovels and dump trucks were at work demolishing the green slope behind Houghton. Strange things were being done to the Dana-Palmer House. Vag watched the big shovels; only five scoops of the jagged-toothed box to fill the puny dump trucks so full that dirt spilled over their sides as they drove out the Widener gate.

Over in Leavitt and Peirce, where Vag went to have his mid-day coffee, an enthusiastic china and glass salesman was trying to unload his products on the lunch counter manager. "Yes, sir, we're now in a position to supply you with a complete line of these glasses. Take this little number. Invaluable for serving fruit jnices. Specially processed to stand up under rough treatment." He dropped it on the counter with what he hoped was a convincing lack of concern for its safety. It didn't break.

Vag finished his coffee and walked out, glancing--for lack of a worthier subject--at a passing Yard cop who had shed his coat in deference to the early June heat. The sight of the shirt-sleeved Yard cop made Vag realize that it was going to be a hot summer. With a nine o'clock every morning, and each class meeting four times a week, summer school was going to be more work than fun. Vag wondered if it were worth the effort. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and decided that it was.