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Winning His W by Everett Titsworth Tomlinson

E >> Everett Titsworth Tomlinson >> Winning His W




Suddenly he caught sight of Foster as he stepped down upon the platform
and instantly Will began to push his way forward to greet him. As Foster
stepped down he turned back as if to assist some one, and Will perceived
that it was Peter John Schenck who was being assisted. But his actions
were strange and his general appearance was woebegone in the extreme.

"What's the matter with Peter John? Sick?" inquired Will as he pressed
forward.

"Sick? Sick nothing!" retorted Foster in a low voice. "Can't you see
what ails him? The fool!"

The maudlin expression on Peter John's face, his wabbling steps, the
silly smile with which he greeted Will at once disclosed what his
condition was and with a feeling of disgust Will turned away.

"Hold on, Will," called Peter John tremulously, beginning to cry as he
spoke, "don't go backsh on a fellow now. I los' all my money. Seven
dollar I put up on the team an' they jis' sold out," and Peter John's
tears increased and he threatened to fall on Foster's shoulder.

Will had turned back sharply at the words, his disgust and anger so
plainly stamped upon his face that even Peter John was moved by it and
began to sob audibly. "Sold out, Will! Seven dollar all gone! Too bad!
Too bad!"

"Get a taxi, Will," said Foster in a low voice. "If we can get the
fellow up to his room without attracting too much attention we may be
able to put him in bed."

As Will turned away, he was rejoiced to notice that his classmate's
condition had apparently not attracted the attention of the crowd, which
was too much occupied in the excitement of greeting the team to be
mindful of other matters. Disgust and anger were so mingled in Will's
feelings that he was hardly aware of what he was doing, but at last he
succeeded in getting a taxi, and bidding the driver hold it near the end
of the platform, he hastened back to the assistance of Foster.

As he returned he noticed that Mott was now with Peter John, and only
one glance was required to show that he was in a condition similar to
that of Peter John, though not quite so helpless.

"Glad t' see you, freshman," stammered Mott as Will approached. "Great
sport, that fellow," and he pointed stupidly at Peter John as he spoke.
"Put up his monish like li'le man. No squeal from him, no, not a squeal.
No, goo' man. Goo' man, freshman."

"Shall we take him too?" inquired Will of Foster.

"Yes, if there's room."

"I think there will be."

"He can make his way all right, I think, but you'll have to help me with
Peter John. Get hold of his other arm. That's right," he added as Will
grasped his maudlin classmate by the left arm, while Foster supported
him by the right.

"Come on, Mott, if you want to ride up," said Will sharply to the
sophomore.

"That ish good o' you, freshman," drawled Mott. "Broke, dead broke! Do
ash much for you some day. You get broke some daysh, I s'pose."

"Shut up, Mott," said Foster savagely.

"A'-a' right. Just's you say, not's I care."

A few in the assemblage noted the condition of the boys and laughed
thoughtlessly, but neither Will nor his room-mate was in a frame of mind
to respond. Disgusted, angry, mortified beyond expression, they
nevertheless assisted the boys to the seats in the taxi which Will had
secured, and quickly doing as he was bidden, the driver started rapidly
up the street. Peter John had fallen heavily against Will's shoulder and
was instantly asleep, but Mott was not to be so easily disposed of.
Peering out from the window at the crowds that were moving up the street
and by which the taxi was passing, he emitted three or four wild whoops
and then began to sing:

"We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band,
On the right side of temperance we always do stand;
We don't use tobacco, for this we do think,
That those who do use it most always do drink."

"Mott, if you don't keep quiet I'll throw you out," exclaimed Will
mortified as he perceived that the passing crowd was turning about to
discover what the noisy commotion meant.

"A'-a' right," responded Mott in a shout that could have been heard far
away. "I'll be as sthill as an intensified hippopotamus! Not a sound of
my voice shall awake the echoes of these purple hills. I'll not be the
one to arouse the slumbers of this peaceful vale."

"Driver," interrupted Will sharply, "stop your cab."

"No, no, Will, you'll only make a bad matter worse. Let's keep on and do
the best we can. It'll only call attention to ourselves," said Foster
hastily.

"Thatsh sho," assented Mott noisily, swaying in his seat as he spoke.
"Keep on, driver. Go straight up to prexy's house; I've got something
p'ticular to shay t' him. Shame, way the team sold out t'-day! Disgrace
to old Winthrop! Have a good mind to leave the college myself an' go to
Alden; they're men there! They know how to stan' up an' take their
med'cine. Great place, Alden! Guess they'll be shorry here when they
shee me with a great big A on my sweater!"

"Mott, keep still," exclaimed Foster.

"Keep still yerself, freshman. Don't talk t' me."

There was nothing to be done except to endure it all in silence or put
the noisy student out of the taxi. Poor Will felt that the people they
were passing looked upon all four of the occupants of the cab as if they
were all in the same disgraceful condition. His eyes blazed and his
cheeks were crimson. To him it seemed as if the cab was scarcely moving
on its way to Leland Hall. The way was interminable, the suffering
almost too great to be endured.

At last, however, the driver stopped before the dormitory where Mott had
his room and Foster said, "Will, I'll look after this fellow if you'll
attend to Peter John."

"Nobody--no freshman in p'ticular--ish going to help me!" exclaimed Mott
noisily. "I can walk a chalk line, I can. Keep your eyes on me and
you'll see how it's done."

"All right. Get out, then," said Foster hastily.

Mott lurched out of the cab, and the driver, at Foster's word, at once
started on and neither of the boys glanced behind to see how it fared
with the intoxicated sophomore. They were eager now to dispose of their
classmate, and as soon as the taxi halted in front of Leland Hall they
tried to arouse the slumbering freshman. At last, by dint of their
united efforts, they succeeded in lifting him to the ground, and then
they somehow got him up the stairway and soon had him in his bed. When
their labors were ended Will exclaimed, "It must be midnight. Surely the
people couldn't see who we were except when the cab passed the street
lights, but I'm afraid some of them knew then."

"That isn't so bad. I don't care half so much about their seeing as I do
about something else."

"What's that?"

"What they saw. Poor fool!" he added bitterly as he turned and glanced
at the bed whereon Peter John was lying and noisily sleeping. "I did my
best to hold him back, but he would go on with Mott."

"Do you think he lost his money too?"

"Haven't a doubt of it."

"And he didn't have very much to lose."

"It was all he had. It would have been the same if it had been seven
thousand instead of just plain seven. He was so set up by the attentions
of Mott that he was an easy mark. I never saw anything like it."

"Well, all I can say is that I hope I sha'n't again, but probably I
shall if he stays in college," said Will bitterly.

"It's in him, that's about all one can say," said Foster. "If it hadn't
been here it would have been somewhere else. And yet they say that a
college is a dangerous place for a young fellow to be in."

"I don't believe it."

"No more do I. There are all kinds here the same as there are pretty
much everywhere, and all there is of it is that a fellow has a little
more freedom to follow out just what he wants to do."

"Come on," suggested Will, starting toward the door. "We can't do
anything more for Peter John. He'll probably be around to see us
to-morrow."

As the boys approached the doorway they met Hawley and at his urgent
request turned back into the room with him. The big freshman glanced at
his sleeping room-mate and then laughed as he said, "Too young. Ought
not to have left his mother yet." As neither of the boys replied, Hawley
continued, "He'll have to quit that or he'll queer himself in the
college. I don't know that he can do that any more successfully than he
has done already though," he added.

Will was irritated that Hawley should take the matter in such a light
way and said half-angrily, "Do you suppose he'll be hauled up before the
faculty?"

"Not unless they hear of it," laughed Hawley, "and I don't believe they
will."

"Tell us about the game," interrupted Foster.

"My story is short and not very sweet," retorted Hawley grimly, glancing
at his arm as he spoke.

"How did that happen?"

"Nobody knows. It's done and that's all there is to it. I'm out of the
game for the rest of this season."

"That's too bad. Did Alden really have such a tremendous team?"

"Look at the score. You know what that was, don't you?"

"Yes, I heard. Come on, Will. We'd better be in bed. We'll get Hawley to
tell us all about the game some other time. Come on."

The two freshmen at once departed, but when they were in their own room
it was not the lost game which was uppermost in their minds and
conversation, but the fall of Peter John. And when at last they sought
their beds it was with the conviction that Peter John himself would seek
them out within a day or two and try to explain how it was that his
downfall had occurred. This, they thought, would give them the
opportunity they desired, and if the faculty did not discover the matter
and take action of their own then they might be able to say or do
something to recall Peter John to himself.

On the following day, however, their classmate did not appear, and in
the days that followed he did not once come to their room. Mott they had
seen, but he had only laughed lightly when he met them and made no
reference to the ride he had taken in their taxi.

"I don't believe Peter John knows that we know anything about what
happened on his trip," said Foster thoughtfully one day.

"What makes him keep away from us all the time, then?"

"That's so. Probably his conscience isn't in the best of condition. You
don't suppose he's waiting for us to make the first move, do you?"

"I don't know."

"I hate to leave the fellow to himself," said Foster. "He'll go to the
dogs as sure as you're born if he is."

"If he isn't there already."

"Well, if he's there we must help to get him out."

"You're the one to do it, Foster. You aren't working up your Greek."

Will had been working with even greater intensity than before and was
beginning to see the results of his labors. With his disposition there
was no comparative degree. Everything was at one extreme or the other
and now he was giving himself but little rest and even Peter John's
disgrace was not so keenly felt by him as at the time when it had
occurred.

"I think I'll have to do something," assented Foster, "or at least try
to."

But on the following day an excitement broke out among the students at
Winthrop that speedily and completely banished from the minds of Will
and Foster even their well-intended efforts to aid their weak and
misguided classmate.




CHAPTER XVIII

AN ALARMING REPORT


The excitement first came to Will Phelps when one night he was returning
to his room from his dinner in the fraternity house. The house, together
with four or five other similar houses, was situated in the same street
with the dormitory, but was distant a walk of seven or eight minutes,
and there was usually a crowd of the college boys to be seen on the
village street three times a day when they passed to or from their
boarding places.

On this particular evening Will chanced to be alone, and as he went on
he perceived Mott approaching. He had had but little to say to the
fellow since the escapade, and now as he recognized the sophomore his
feeling of anger or disgust arose once more, and he was inclined to pass
him with only a light nod of recognition.

But Mott was not to be so lightly turned aside or ignored, and as he saw
Will he stopped, and his manner at once betrayed the excitement under
which he was laboring.

"Have you heard the news, Phelps?" he demanded.

"I haven't heard anything," replied Will coldly.

"You haven't? Well, you ought to. It's all over college now."

"What's all over college?"

"Why, the report of the typhoid."

"What?" demanded Will, instantly aroused.

"I mean what I say. And there are all sorts of reports about what's to
be done. Some say the faculty have decided to shut up shop for a few
weeks, and some say they've sent for experts, and I don't know what
all."

"Who are the fellows that are down with it?"

"Schenck--"

"Peter John?" demanded Will sharply.

"Yes, and there are seven others. He's the only freshman; there are two
sophs, two juniors, and one senior. Wagner is the senior."

"Where are they?"

"They're all in the infirmary, and the whole shop has been quarantined."

"When was it found out?"

"Only to-day, this afternoon, I think. You see all eight have been under
the weather for a while, and the doctor here thought it was first one
thing that ailed them and then another. Last night or this morning they
had a consultation, and decided that every one of the eight had typhoid
fever. It's a great go, isn't it?"

"And you say Peter John is one?"

"Sure."

"Is he in the infirmary?"

"Yes, every one of them is there."

"Is he very much sick?"

"Can't tell yet, but he's sick enough."

"Can anybody see him?" inquired Will thoughtfully.

"No. There isn't any one allowed in the building except the nurses,
doctors, and the families of the fellows, that is, when they come. I
understand that word has been sent to all the families, and nurses have
already been engaged, and that some of them are on the ground now."

"It's terrible!" said Will with a shudder.

"I know what I'm going to do," said Mott glibly.

"What's that?"

"I'm going home. Of course, the governor won't believe me at first when
I tell him why I've returned to the ancestral abode, but you may rest
easy when he sees it in the papers, then he'll believe it all right
enough. Fine to have your daddy believe a lying newspaper before he
takes the word of his own offspring, isn't it?"

"May not be all his fault."

"Yes, it is. I'd have been as decent a fellow as you or any fellow in
college if I'd been treated halfway decently. But I wasn't."

Will had his own ideas as to that, but he did not express them, for the
full sense of the calamity of the college was now strongly upon him.
Even the shadows of the great hills seemed to him to be more sombre than
usual, and in whichever direction he looked there was an outer gloom
corresponding to the one within. In the first shock of the report a
nameless fear swept over him, and already he was positive that in his
own case he could discover certain symptoms that were the forerunners of
the dreaded disease. He hastily bade Mott good-night and ran all the way
back to his room.

Foster was already there, and at once he exclaimed:

"Foster, have you heard about it?"

"The typhoid?"

"Yes. They say Peter John and Wagner and six others are down with it."

"It's true."

"What's going to be done?"

"You mean what the college is going to do or what we're to do?"

"Yes, that's it. Both."

"I've telephoned home," said Foster quietly.

"You have?"

"Yes. I have just come back from the office."

"Did you telephone my father?"

"No. I telephoned my father and told him to ring up your house."

"And did he?"

"Of course he did."

"Did you hear anything--I mean--"

"Now, look here, Will," said Foster quietly. "Don't get rattled. I know
it's bad, but there isn't any use in losing your head over it. I've been
down to see the dean and have talked it over with him."

"What did he have to say?"

"He said the report was true and the eight fellows were all down with
the typhoid, and that every one of them had been taken to the
infirmary."

"What else?" demanded Will, his excitement increasing in spite of his
effort to be calm.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, if you'll give me half a chance. He
said the president had sent for the best experts in the country, and
that everything that it was possible to do would be done. He said too,
that they would deal absolutely squarely with the boys, and if it was
discovered that there was the least danger of it spreading they would
tell us, and if necessary they'd close for a while till the whole thing
had been ferreted out."

"That's square."

"Of course it is."

"What are you going to do, Foster?"

"Nothing, that is, for a day or two anyway. I've told my father, and if
he thinks I'd better come home he'll say so."

"But he may not know."

"He will in a day or two."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Study my Greek."

"I ought to, but I'm going out for a little while. I've got to cool off
a bit before I can settle down to work."

"Don't be gone long. You'll only see the fellows and get stirred up all
the more. I'd drop it and go to 'boning.' It's the best cure."

"It is for a fellow like you, Foster. I can't do it yet. I've got to get
outdoors till I can get my breath again."

Seizing his cap Will went out into the night. He passed by Leland Hall
and glancing up discovered that there was a light in Peter John's room.
Instantly he entered the building and bounding up the stairway knocked
on his classmate's door, and in response to the invitation entered and
found Hawley within and alone.

"Hello, Hawley. What's the news about Peter John?"

"Oh, he's got it. Temperature a hundred and four and a half and all that
sort of thing."

"Any idea where or how he got it?"

"Not the least."

"Have you seen him?"

"Since he went to the infirmary? Yes, once; but I sha'n't see him again
till he comes out well or--"

"Is he the worst?"

"No. Wagner seems to be the hardest hit, but they told me you couldn't
tell very much about it yet. Have to wait a few days anyway."

"Mott says he is going home."

"Yes, there probably will be a lot of the fellows leaving by to-morrow."

"Are you afraid?"

"Some."

"Going to leave?"

"I'm going to wait a day or two and see what turns up before I decide
just what I shall do."

On his way back to his room Will fell in with several others of his
classmates, and the exciting conversation was repeated in each case
until at last when he joined Foster, whom he found still poring over his
lesson in Greek for the morrow, his feelings were so overwrought that he
was almost beside himself.

"Everybody's going to leave, Foster," he declared.

"Not quite, for I'm not going yet myself."

"But--" Will ceased abruptly as he perceived that a messenger boy was
standing in front of his door. Quickly seizing the envelope he perceived
that it was directed to himself and instantly tearing it open he read:

"If new cases develop within three days come home. Otherwise remain.
Wire me daily." The message was signed by his father.

"That settles it!" exclaimed Will, "I'm going to bed. Splinter will be
easy on us to-morrow anyway."

Foster smiled as he shook his head and continued his own work, but his
room-mate was not aware of either action.

In chapel on the following morning the president of the college
reiterated the statement which the dean already had made to Foster, and
after trying to show the students that a panic was even more to be
feared than the fever, and promising to keep them fully and frankly
informed as to the exact status of affairs, he dismissed them to their
recitations, which it was understood were to be continued without
interruption, at least for the present.

In his Greek that day Will failed miserably and completely, and his
anger at Splinter was intensified when the professor near the close of
the recitation said:

"It is quite needless, I fawncy, for me to emphasize, young gentlemen,
the necessity there is at the present time for you all to adopt the
utmost care in all matters pertaining especially to your health. I refer
to you individually as well as collectively. My advice to you is to use
only mineral water--I refer obviously to the water you drink--and it
might be well to avoid the undue use of milk--"

A shout of laughter interrupted the professor which caused his face to
flush with anger and he arose abruptly from his seat, the signal that
the class was dismissed.

As Will, who was among the last to pass out, came near the desk the
professor said to him, "Mr. Phelps, I should be pleased if you would
remain for a brief time. I should like exceedingly to have a word with
you."

Accordingly, Will stood by the desk till all the class had passed out,
and then the professor said, "Ah, Mr. Phelps, would you kindly inform me
what your opinion is as to the cause of the students receiving my
remarks a few minutes ago with such an outburst of laughter? I assure
you I had not the least intention to say anything that should even
appear to be liable to excite the mirth of the young gentlemen. I do not
know that I was ever more serious in my entire life."

"I think, professor, it was your reference to milk."

"Why should I not refer to it? In times of fear, when typhoid fever
is--is--ah, at least somewhat feared, it is wise to be extremely
cautious, and I have it on the authority of men of the highest
reputation that milk is a medium through which the germs of the disease
transmit themselves most readily."

"Yes, but you know, professor, the college is supposed to think the
freshmen feed on milk. That's supposed to be their diet."

"Ah, yes," replied the professor, smiling in a manner that proclaimed
his entire inability to perceive the point. "That must be the point of
the joke. Ah, yes. I see it distinctly now. It is very good! It is very
good, indeed!"

"Professor, can you tell me my marks? How am I doing in my Greek
lately?"

"I am not supposed to reply to such a question from any of the young
gentlemen, but I fawncy in a general way I may be able to respond to
your query. Ah, yes," he added, glancing at the page in the little book
before him wherein Will's record was contained, "there is an
improvement, not great, it is true, but still an improvement; and if
your work continues it will bring you almost up to the mark required."

"Almost?" exclaimed Will aghast. "You don't mean to say, do you, Mr.
Splinter--"

"Mr. _who?_" demanded the professor, instantly rising and his face
flushing again with anger.




CHAPTER XIX

A RARE INTERVIEW


Instantly Will Phelps was overwhelmed with confusion. His face flushed
crimson and his knees shook under the excitement which quickly seized
upon him. The opprobrious title by which the Greek professor was known
among the students and by which he was commonly spoken of by them had
slipped from his tongue almost unconsciously. He stood staring stupidly
into the professor's face, while visions of expulsion and future
difficulty flashed into his troubled mind.

"I beg your pardon, professor," he managed to ejaculate at last. "I did
not mean to say that. The word slipped out before I knew it. I am very
sorry for it, for I certainly did not intend to be disrespectful in any
way."

"You insulted me!" exclaimed the professor in a rage that under other
circumstances would have seemed almost ludicrous to Will. It was like
the anger of an infuriated canary bird or of some little child.

"Then I want to apologize," said Will quietly. "As I said, I certainly
did not intend to do anything of the kind."

"But you did," persisted the outraged teacher. "You most assuredly did."

"Can't you believe me when I say it was not intentional?"

"That does not excuse it, but I fawncy the tendency among the young
gentlemen of the college is to bestow appellations upon the various
members of the faculty that are not warranted."

"I have heard some of them spoken of in that way, but I don't think the
fellows meant either to be disrespectful or unkind," said Will eagerly.

"No, I fawncy it may in part be due to the thoughtlessness of youth and
I would not be unduly harsh with you after your ample apology. Then you
have been accustomed to hear me myself referred to as Splinter, have
you?"

"I--yes--that is--" stammered Will.

"Precisely. Now what in your opinion is the basis upon which the
students have added such a derisive epithet to my name?"

Will was silent, though in spite of his efforts the expression of his
face betrayed somewhat the feeling of blank amazement which possessed
him.

"I fawncy I can trace its derivation," said the professor simply.
"Doubtless when I first became a member of the faculty the appellation,
or, let me see, is it an appellation or a cognomen, as you commonly have
heard it?"

"Yes, sir," Will managed to respond.

"It is, then, as I fawncied, and doubtless was bestowed upon me as
indicative of my lack of avoirdupois. And it was not entirely unnatural
that they should do so, for at the time when I came to Winthrop I was
very slight, very slight indeed. The appellation, or cognomen, was
without doubt given in recognition of that fact, a custom not unknown,
among the classical nations and one prevalent among the Hebrews and even
among the Indians of America. The history of names would provide an
exceedingly interesting field of study for you, Mr. Phelps."

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