Word: vagabonder
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POPS! Leaping from the limbo of the Vagabond's mind come memories of other Springs, misty recollections of picnics in the vicinity of Wayland, followed by their inevitable softball games, of mad rushes under Massachusetts Avenue in pursuit of the 150's with sudden death lurking in every whitewalled wheel, of tandem bicycle rides in Brookline, of lengthy collateral assignments for History 1, of warm evenings on Mt. Auburn Street, of dust and bats and paper cups on the ball field, and of well-meant oaths of fealty to some sweet, starry-eyed blonde about to be ravished...
...Pops have a strange recollective quality about them, and the Vagabond sits with a claret lemonade in his hand steeping himself in the past. He remembers this same Symphony Hall under the uncivilized spell of Benny Goodman's baton and marvels that a building can be so versatile in its atmosphere. He remembers a superb woman violin soloist of former years who later married a popular Boston orchestra leader, and while the purples and reds of Ravel swirl from the orchestra, he wonders how in the world the management reaches those chandeliers to change the bulbs. He sees disillusioned Seniors...
...column, "Miss So-and-So came down from the North Shore and wore sophisticated black . . . . Miss Snitz, one of our most charming buds, was enjoying herself among the older people," etc. The whole evening--the music, the audience, the atmosphere--has a certain nostalgic pleasantness that the Vagabond can never forget...
...Skipper is fixing a short circuit below," said the Vagabond and grew cold all over. He wanted to kick himself for being such a fool as to forget to turn them on again. "They'll be on in a minute," he added shakily...
...then everything was quiet again. The Vagabond wondered at the silence of the water and the smoothness of the boat's speed. He reflected that he had had a good summer, and that college in the Junior year would be pretty good fun . . . except for divisionals, and they were not till Spring...