Until Wednesday it was all Khaki in the Yard, with a few lonely instructors shuffling between ranks of NTS. Now it is also seersucker, an Navy blue, and sweaters and skirts.
As the college students filed into first meetings their was a strange soprano note in the babble. It was not coeducation, one prof called it joint instruction, and they were only a lot of Radcliffe girls. But who cared what it was, the scent of perfume filed the Yard, and skirts reminiscent of last summer, rustled in Sever.
And as the happy upperclassmen sat beside a lovely lass, and the Army and Navy strutted in handsome uniforms, the hapless Freshman shuffled along. He didn't have "joint instruction" in his courses.
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To Each According to Its Need
