cheer leader old Tate had ever had. Before his day no white-flanneled exhorter to mass bronchitis had, for instance, ever been able to turn three complete cartwheels and then a forward somersault while leading the famous "long cheer" and keep the cadence perfectly. No former master of the megaphone had ever stimulated such volume from a cheering section singing the historic Tate alma mater song, "Tate Forever More."
Sitting there, Lamb smiled and fell into a blissful reverie.
His thoughts were brusquely interrupted as the door was pushed open and a pair of pinch glasses, riding a long nose, followed by a wrathful elderly face and a lanky body confronted him.
"What in thunder's all this noise up here?" came the irritated accents of the intruder at the door. "I thought you went to bed, Harold. What are you doing waking all the neighbors with that fool college cheering? What's this 'chop suey, chop suey' business, anyway? Gosh, I was listening in on the radio and I says to mamma, says I, 'Gosh, I've got China.' You must be crazy! I can't make you out these days, Harold. Getting out of bed and putting on that thick white sweater this hot weather and that fool little cap and cutting up such capers in front of the
