One more class and to more quizzes, thought Vag as he bounced down the Emerson steps, practiced a jump turn across the walk, and set off cross country toward Widener. One more class and two more quizzes-held your glass for more gin fizzes-vacation loomed just behind that Saturday section man and not one bit farther. Vag brightened inwardly, hastened his step, and almost hollered "Track" at the crowd blocking his way.

Vacation was coming, all right. The signs were everywhere, and he had expected it even before the display windows appeared. The dining hall was emptying and study cards were already called in, and the boards covering the Widener steps-they always stood for snow and ice. Snow and ice, Vag mused, ice and glasses. Not too much water, he cautioned. No more lethargic lectures, and endless doodling until the bell rang. Soon the bells would be ringing all the time, and breakfast would move up into afternoon, and weekends would mushroom into whole weeks. Tow whole weeks, in fact. He wondered why he wasn't gong skiing all two weeks, and as he herringbone up the library steps, the reason dawned. Christmas. Sure enough.

Blast it, Vag groaned. He swung an invisible ski pole at holidays in general. Vacation was swell, but Christmas cramped your style. Sort of chopped up the first week. And places were always so crowded-why not just leave and head for the mountains?

Vag headed for his room instead. Several hours later, he spouted out of his chair and headed for the window, for there were carolers below. Peace on earth, goodwill toward men, thought Vag as he bounced down the steps and linked arms with one of the crowd. "It came upon a midnight clear," he told the night, "that glorious..." He turned to the fellow beside him. "What day is the Rose Bowl game?"