, showing off their Alma Mater to their Best Girl and her
satellites!

"If I'd had an education, here's where I should like to have got it,"
Peter remarked, calmly joining our forces, unabashed by Caspian's stare.

"You haven't finished all that stuff the Senator and I gave you!" gasped
Lily, knowing that the eye of Ed had travelled reproachfully to her.

"That's all right, Mrs. Shuster," was Peter's airy reply. "When you get
home, you'll find that everything has been duly posted."

There was nothing more to be said on the subject. And though Peter
referred to himself as a person of no education, he seemed to know more
about Cambridge than the Boys themselves--quite as much as Jack, who has
been studying up the place as if for an exam!

It really is charming, that college yard, you know, Mercedes--just as
charming in its way, Jack admits, as bits of Oxford, or the old
Cambridge for which this darling place was named. Once it was called
Newton, but after the great event in 1636--the granting by the General
Court of Massachusetts Bay of _four hundred pounds_ "towards a schoole
or colledge"--they decided that it ought to be called Cambridge. Nearly
all the buildings contrive to look rather venerable (they cloak
themselves with creepers), but some, like Massachusetts Hall and Harvard
Hall, and several houses, are really old. Tom, Dick, and Harry put on
the air of graybeards returning, after a half-century of adventure, to
their childhood's home, though they left college only last year to go
abroad. It was funny to see the patronizing looks they cast on the
undergrads we saw; but they were the life of the place for us, all the
same, and we felt truly _in_ it, chaperoned by them. Outside college
bounds, however, they lost interest. It was Jack who had to tell us
about "Brattle." As far as the Boys were concerned, it might have been
any ordinary street, instead of _the street_ of the world, as it is to
true hearts of Cambridge. In Cambridge the smart thing is to be rather
dowdy, just as it is at Oxford, and in Cambridge of England; and so, as
we had got ourselves up to dazzle Boston (a difficult task, I must
say!), we were conspicuously, ignominiously tourists as we gazed in
reverence at Washington's Elm, at Longfellow's exquisite old primrose
yellow house, and the other historic incarnations of Cambridge's past.
Only the Boys were not subject to the pitying scorn of Society. They
didn't have on their _worst_ clothes, beca