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Spires and Gargoyles
"HA-HAHORTENSE!"
"Allright,ponies!"
"Shakeitup!"
"Hey,ponies—howabouteasinguponthatcrapgameandshakingameanhip?"
"Hey,ponies!"
Thecoachfumedhelplessly,theTriangleClubpresident,gloweringwithanxiety,variedbetweenfuriousburstsofauthorityandfitsoftemperamentallassitude,whenhesatspiritlessandwonderedhowthedeviltheshowwasevergoingontourbyChristmas.
"Allright.We’lltakethepiratesong."
Theponiestooklastdragsattheircigarettesandslumpedintoplace;theleadingladyrushedintotheforeground,settinghishandsandfeetinanatmosphericmince;andasthecoachclappedandstampedandtumpedandda-da’d,theyhashedoutadance.
Agreat,seethingant-hillwastheTriangleClub.Itgaveamusicalcomedyeveryyear,travellingwithcast,chorus,orchestra,andsceneryallthroughChristmasvacation.Theplayandmusicweretheworkofundergraduates,andtheclubitselfwasthemostinfluentialofinstitutions,overthreehundredmencompetingforiteveryyear.
Amory,afteraneasyvictoryinthefirstsophomorePrincetoniancompetition,steppedintoavacancyofthecastasBoilingOil,aPirateLieutenant.Everynightforthelastweektheyhadrehearsed"Ha-HaHortense!"intheCasino,fromtwointheafternoonuntileightinthemorning,sustainedbydarkandpowerfulcoffee,andsleepinginlecturesthroughtheinterim.Ararescene,theCasino.
