Kathleen | Page 7

college hall (a
pleasant little formality performed at the end of each term)
absent-mindedly replied "Wolverhampton" when the warden asked him
where he was going to spend the vacation. He was then hard put to it to
avoid a letter of introduction to the vicar of St. Philip's in that city, an
old pupil of the warden. King, bicycling rapidly down the greasy Turl
with an armful of books, collided vigorously with another cyclist at the
corner of the High. They both sprawled on the curb, bikes interlocked.
"My god, sir!" cried the Goblin; "Why not watch where you're going?"
Then he saw it was Johnny Blair. "Sorry, Goblin," said the latter; "I--I
was thinking about Kathleen." "So was I," said King, picking up his
books. And in defiance of the University statute of 1636 (still
unrepealed) which warns students against "frequenting dicing houses,
taverns, or booths where the nicotian herb is sold," they went into
Hedderly's together to buy tobacco.
After breakfast the next morning they were all in cabs on their way to
the Great Western Station. It was a mild and sunny day, with puffs of
spring in the air. Who can ever forget the Saturday morning at the end
of term when the men "go down"? Long lines of hansoms spinning
briskly toward the station, with bulging portmanteaus on the roof; the
wide sunny sweep of the Broad with the 'bus trundling past Trinity
gates; a knot of tall youths in the 'varsity uniform of gray "bags" and

brown tweed norfolk, smoking and talking at the Balliol lodge--and
over it all the clang of a hundred chimes, the gray fingers of a thousand
spires and pinnacles, the moist blue sky of England.... Ah, it is the
palace of youth, or it was once.
The Scorpions met on the dingy north-bound platform. Graham, Keith,
and Twiston had been obliged to scratch owing to other more
imperative plans; but five members boarded the 10 o'clock train in high
spirits. Forbes, Carter, King, Blair, and Whitney-- they filled a
third-class smoker with tobacco and jest.
"Now, Goblin," cried Falstaff, as the train ran past the Port Meadow,
and the Radcliffe dome dropped from view; "Open those sealed orders!
You promised to draw up the rules of the game."
King pulled a paper from his pocket.
"I jotted down some points," he said. "This is the time to discuss them."
_"Rules to be Observed by the Scorpions on the Great Kathleen
Excursion_
"1. The headquarters of the expedition will be the Blue Boar Inn at
Wolverhampton. (I've written to them to engage rooms.)
"2. The Kriegspiel will begin to-day at 2 P.M., and manoeuvres will
continue without intermission until someone is declared the winner, or
until time is called.
"3. The object of the contest is to make the acquaintance of Kathleen;
to engage her in friendly conversation; to win her confidence, and to
induce her to accept an invitation to Commem, or Eights Week.
"4. Any deception, strategy, or tactics which are not calculated to give
intolerable distress or embarrassment to Kathleen and her family, are
allowable.
"5. If by noon on Tuesday no one shall have succeeded in making

friends with Kathleen, the game shall be declared off."
"Suppose she's not at home?" said Whitney.
"We'll have to chance that."
"What time do we get there?"
"I've ordered lunch at the Blue Boar at one o'clock. This train gets to
Wolvers at 12:30."
It was a merry ride. The story of Kathleen as they had written it was
discussed pro and con.; the usual protests were launched at Carter for
having in his chapter lowered the theme to the level of burlesque;
praise was accorded to the Goblin for the dexterity with which he had
rescued the plot. Blair's chapter had been full of American slang which
had to be explained to the others. "Joe," the Rhodes Scholar hero, had
shown a vein of fine gold under Blair's hands: he bade fair to win the
charming Kathleen, although the story had not been finished owing to
the examinations which had fallen upon the brotherhood toward the end
of term. The game, begun in pure jest, had taken on something of
romantic earnest: there was not one of these young men who did not
see in Kathleen his own ideal of slender, bright-cheeked girlhood. And
when the train pulled into Wolverhampton, they tumbled out of their
smoking carriage with keen expectation.

V
Perhaps the best way to pursue the next episodes in the quest is in the
words of Johnny Blair, the Rhodes Scholar, who jotted down some
notes in a journal he kept:
We got to Wolverhampton 12:25, Ingersoll time. Had a jolly trip on the
train, all the Scorps laying bets as to who would be first to