"She would be a mother of two in some less-developed countries. You bet he would."

"What if she spreads the word among her friends?"

"Free advertisement!"

"Lecher!"

"Wimp!"

Athletics are another important aspect of a summer proctorship. In fact, a surprisingly large proportion of your colleagues are members of varsity teams. You've got the infield of the women's softball squad, most of the gridders' starting secondary, and the middle-distance runners of both sexes. All of this is, of course, the result of a wholly impartial selection process, in which the written applications of all those interested are given careful scrutiny.

The athletes tend to sponsor 10 kilometer runs and dorm parties, but intimate cookouts give the less physically fit chance to join in the fun. As the fire smolders and the bugs start biting, the whole gang sits around and chews the fat, until the trend-setters leave to change for the evening.

The talk often turns at those casual affairs to matters of academic prowess and the key to the successful college interview. "I hear coming here is just as good as being on student council," a particular fellow actually said one night, and they didn't let him forget it until August.

Five questions tend to surface over and over when considering higher education with the upwardly mobile products of advantage:

1. What were your scores?

2. Were you on student council?

3. What were your scores?

4. Do you work all the time?

5. What were your scores?

Best to divert them with tales of double-800s who are happily attending state schools and absurd geographical diversity cases that make it into Harvard. They don't believe you, but it seems to make them feel better until the topic changes to sex, by which time only the special-interest partisans are left, and you lead them out into the humidity beyond the Yard for bitter-sweet chocolate ice cream