Lawrence did not. He, poor devil, skulked off and tried to forget about the freshman, like a rejected lover, and, again like one, he could not, even though he went across the street to avoid meeting those big eyes.
Once more he took a long breath and sneaked off to the freshman's room with a brave lot of kind, smiling advice which he practised saying on the way over. In a moment he came running back to the campus, shouting for joy. The freshman was not at home.
He yelled "Yea" with all his might and danced three times about the cannon, all alone, like a man back on the campus in midsummer. Then because it was Princeton someone else yelled "Yea-a!" from over by Clio Hall. Then Jack Stehman raised his window and yelled "Cork up!" because he felt like it. Someone in East yeaed back in a shrill voice. Tommy Tucker stepped out upon his balcony in Reunion and echoed it mightily. Someone blew a horn, a big Thanksgiving game horn. Others took it up. Windows were thrown open all over the campus. Many voices sounded the ancient cry of "Fresh fire! Heads out!" Shotguns banged. Fire-crackers exploded. Bugles sounded. Distant Dod took up the echo. Witherspoon Hall was already doing its part.
Within two minutes Lawrence was joined by a score of fellows who danced with him about the cannon, yelled "Fresh fier-r-r! Heads out!" until they had brought everyone out they could, then called "Leg pull. All over!" and ran back to their rooms again, feeling that they had done their duty. Windows slammed shut again. A voice from down in Edwards Hall answered "All over!" Every one went on where he left off. All felt refreshed and strengthened for their duties, and Lawrence leaned alone against the cannon. But he too felt better.
He decided that this was a species of Providential interposition, a sort of vision as it were, the interpretation of which was that any man who would allow a little fool freshman to destroy the happiness of the culminating year of the best period of life in the dearest spot on earth would be an unmitigated ass.
He now fell to distracting his mind with work and other things, and realized the beauty of existence, as all undergraduates should. Besides the beauty of existence there were others that he was in the habit of dwelling upon during sunset rambles through the woods down toward the canal; pretty little foolish thoughts which young men who are still students and have yet to choose an occupation have no business in thinking. But the way her hair swept back from that brow of hers on either side of the chaste part and then swirled-- But that will do. Lawrence and his affairs already occupy too much space.