"This will be the last game she ever persuades any young innocent to take her to!" "But, Burne--why did you _invite_ her if you didn't want her ?" "Burne, you _know_ you're secretly mad about her--that's the _real_ trouble." "What can _you_ do, Burne?
What can _you_ do against Phyllis ?" But Burne only shook his head and muttered threats which consisted largely of the phrase: "She'll see, she'll see!" The blithesome Phyllis bore her twenty-five summers gayly from the train, but on the platform a ghastly sight met her eyes.

There were Burne and Fred Sloane arrayed to the last dot like the lurid figures on college posters.

They had bought flaring suits with huge peg-top trousers and gigantic padded shoulders.

On their heads were rakish college hats, pinned up in front and sporting bright orange-and-black bands, while from their celluloid collars blossomed flaming orange ties.
They wore black arm-bands with orange "P's," and carried canes flying Princeton pennants, the effect completed by socks and peeping handkerchiefs in the same color motifs.

On a clanking chain they led a large, angry tom-cat, painted to represent a tiger.
A good half of the station crowd was already staring at them, torn between horrified pity and riotous mirth, and as Phyllis, with her svelte jaw dropping, approached, the pair bent over and emitted a college cheer in loud, far-carrying voices, thoughtfully adding the name "Phyllis" to the end.