The street cars poked their blunt noses through the crowd which closed in again behind them like water about the stern of a ship.

Violets blossomed or crimson chrysanthemums bloomed upon every coat and wrap, or hung pendant from the handle of cane and umbrella.

The flags of Harwell and Yates, the white H and white Y, were everywhere.

Shop windows were partisan to the blue, but held dashes of crimson as a sop to the demands of hospitality and welcome.
At one o'clock the exodus from town began.

Along the road that leads to the football field hurried the sellers of rush cushions and badges, of score cards and pencils, of blue and crimson flags and cheap canes, of peanuts and sandwiches, of soda water and sarsaparilla, bent upon securing advantageous stands about the entrance.