who had a noticeably aristocratic turn of mind, once said to me: "When you
get to college, boy, don't let them talk you into playing football. In the
first place, it's dangerous. In the second place, it's time-consuming. And in
the third place, it will get you involved with all the wrong sort of
though crotchety and old-fashioned, always struck me as amusing, and until
recently I never took his admonitions very seriously or gave them much thought
at all. But a few weeks ago I happened to overhear a well-brushed covey of
Smith girls discussing whether they would or would not accept an invitation to
attend the Penn-Dartmouth football game, which, as everybody knows—or I think
everybody knows—was played in Philadelphia this year.
think we ought to go," said one girl to the others. "Believe it or not,
Penn's parties have come up quite a bit lately."
has come up," another agreed. "But, still, I don't know. It seems a
terrible risk to take—to go all that way and perhaps be bored."
me," the first girl said, "Penn has come way, way up."
sauntered toward them. In the nonchalant manner I used to employ in my own
college days to imply that I, all along, had somehow been a part of the
conversation, I said, "By the way—just what do you mean by up?"
said the first girl, "I mean—well, up. Up in—" she groped for the right
word—"up in importance, I guess. Up in whether you'll have a good time when
you get there."
"You mean up
socially?" I suggested.
"Who else is
up?" I asked.