His surname was prosaic enough, being Smith, but his first name was Crawford and his home was somewhere in the Far West.

He was big and good-looking, and the Boston papers mentioned him as one of the most promising backs on the Harvard Freshman eleven.
Next year, so the sporting writers opined, he would almost certainly make the Varsity team.

Most of Mary-'Gusta's feminine friends and acquaintances rated him "perfectly splendid" and regarded Edna Keith with envious eyes.
This morning both he and the Keith girl were arrayed in the gayest of summer regalia.

Young Smith's white flannel trousers were carefully creased, his blue serge coat was without a wrinkle, his tie and socks were a perfect match, and his cap was of a style which the youth of South Harniss might be wearing the following summer, but not this one.
Take him "by and large," as Captain Shadrach would have said, Crawford Smith was an immaculate and beautiful exhibit; of which fact he, being eighteen years of age, was doubtless quite aware.
He and the Keith girl were, so Mary-'Gusta learned, a committee of two selected to purchase certain supplies for a beach picnic, a combination clambake and marshmallow toast, which was to take place over at Setuckit Point that day.

Sam Keith, Edna's brother, and the other members of the party had gone on to Jabez Hedges' residence, where Jabez had promised to meet them with the clams and other things for the bake.