he was
interrupted by the shouts of the crowd, as the winning boat neared the
goal. The former enthusiasm had been the soft breathings of approval
compared to this outbreak of the victorious. Flags, hats, handkerchiefs
rose in the air, and the university cheer echoed, re-echoed, and began
again.

Arnold cheered also, with an energy not to be deduced from his hitherto
calm exterior, standing up on the seat and shouting with undivided
attention; and Miss Normaine waved her silk handkerchief and laughed in
response to the bursts of youthful joy from the seat in front of her.

"Oh, well," said Arnold, sitting down again, "sport is sport for both
sides, whoever wins--or else it isn't sport at all."

"Ah, how many crimes have been committed in thy name!" murmured Miss
Normaine.

"Katharine, I think you have turned sentimentalist."

"No, it's age, I tell you. I'm thinking more now of the accessories
than I am of the race. That's a sure sign of age, to have time to notice
the accessories."

Arnold nodded.

"There's compensation in it, though. If we lose a little of the drama of
conflict on these occasions, we gain something in recognizing the style
of presentation."

"Yes," and she glanced down at her niece, whose pretty eyes were making
short work of the sunburned, broad-shouldered, smooth-faced, handsome
boy, who was entirely willing to close the festivities of Commencement
week subjected to the ravages of a grand, even if a hopeless, passion.

From her she looked out upon the now darkening river. There had been
some delay before the train could begin to move back, and the summer
twilight had fallen; for the race had been at the last available moment.
Though it was far from quiet, the relief from the tension of the
previous moments added to the placidity of the scene. The opposite
banks were dim and shadowy, and the water was growing vague; there were
lights on some of the craft; a star came out, and then another; there
were no hard suggestions, no sordid reminders. It was a beautiful world,
filled with happy people, united in a common healthy interest; the
outlines of separation were softened into ambiguity and the differences
veiled by good breeding.

"It is only a mimic struggle, after all," she said at last. "The stage
is well set, and now that the curtain is down, there is no special
bitterness at the way the play ended."

"There you exaggerate, as usual," he replied, "and of course in another
direction f