I.
Basil Duke Lee and Riply Buckner, Jr., sat on the Lees’ front steps in the regretful gold of a late summer afternoon. Inside the house the telephone sang out with mysterious promise.
“I thought you were going home,” Basil said.
“I thought you were.”
“I am.”
“So am I.”
“Well, why don’t you go, then?”
“Why don’t you, then?”
“I am.”
They laughed, ending with yawning gurgles that were not laughed out but sucked in. As the telephone rang again, Basil got to his feet.
“I’ve got to study trig before dinner.”
“Are you honestly going to Yale this fall?” demanded Riply skeptically.
“Yes.”
“Everybody says you’re foolish to go at sixteen.”
“I’ll be seventeen in September. So long. I’ll call you up tonight.”
Basil heard his mother at the upstairs telephone and he was immediately aware
