398
PARTISAN REVIEW
Picasso, with the guitars of Catalonia, with the cubist harmony by
which the acrobats drift away.
In the school-field, the 4th year boys, in maroon sweat-suits,
are playing the in-tra-mur-al ball-game, while Mr. Donlin is
umpiring and keeping order. From time to time some of the little
boys have the minds completely on the game. When his side is at
bat, Harry is sitting on the lowest bench of the stands and Marcia
bounces pebbles on him from above. Outside the iron fence
~round
the field, Timmy and Page McCroskey, who go to Holy Name
Academy, are staring at the clean and distinguished boys within.
Mr. Donlin looks like a perfect fool, full of manly baby-talk such
as, "Gooood try!" or "C'mon
Terry,
let's see what you can do!"
Sometimes he loses his temper. One of the boys takes off his
clothes and to the amazement of the Irish boys discloses his deli–
cate limbs in another maroon uniform of shorts and a shirt with a
big U. Amid a loud chorus, Mr. Donlin has to assert his authority
to keep the children from exposing themselves to the cold air.
"Mr. Donlin, 'Mr. Donlin," mimic the two outside the bars,
"kin I take off my drawers?"
A local merchant-prince, a great contributor to the Univer–
sity, has the exclusive franchise for the manufacture and sale of
these many uniforms. Timmy and Page and their friends call the
U-school the Jew-school. They are envious of the boundless wealth
behind the bars and of the fact that the girls and boys go to school
together. "Why doncha let the girls play with youse?" shouts
little Timmy. Page, who is a year younger and much bolder, cries,
"Mr. Donlin, kin I take off my drawers and show the girls my
?"
p-.
On the large field, which is used for the high-school games,
the baseball, thrown by weak arms and tapped by little bats, makes
ridiculous little hops and arcs. Terry, distracted by the remark
from the fence, drops a little pop-fly and the runners stream across
the plate. Mr. Donlin advances to the fence shouting without
profanity, go away or he'll punch them in the nose. From a little
distance, they shout in chorus: "Jew School Jew School!" and some
of the little scholars, who at other times announce proudly that
they go to the University P'rgressive School (as if they went to
college), now tum pink. "Play ball!" shouts Mr. Donlin in a
manly voice.
