The young tutor in a Harvard House is a sadly abused individual. The other day in Leverett House, one of the newer resident gentlemen attempted to walk nonchalantly into the library without showing his card to the haughty librarian. The latter immediately accosted him with a curt, "Where's your card"?
Meekly, the tutor replied, "I think that I must have left it in my room."
"Go get it," said his majesty.
The tutor blushed a delicate pink back of the ears and returned without a word to his room for the green little card.
* * *
It happened down at the Field House. The self-conscious sophomore was trying to play the solicitous big brother to the man in the next locker.
"Oh, don't take this fall track stuff too seriously. After you've been here a while (like me) you'll get onto the ropes. Ever done any track before?"
"Yes."
"Uh huh. Some prep school, I suppose?"
"No, the Harvard varsity."
Silence.
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