Kitobni o'qish: «Walter Sherwood's Probation»
CHAPTER I
WALTER SHERWOOD’S LETTER
“Here’s a letter for you, Doctor Mack,” said the housekeeper, as she entered the plain room used as a library and sitting-room by her employer, Doctor Ezekiel Mack. “It’s from Walter, I surmise.” This was a favorite word with Miss Nancy Sprague, who, though a housekeeper, prided herself on having been a schoolmistress in her earlier days.
“Indeed, Nancy. Let me see it. Walter is really getting attentive. His last letter came to hand only two days since. He hasn’t forgotten his old guardian.”
“Oh, no, sir. He’ll never do that. He has a predilection for his old home. His heart is in the right place.”
“Just so. I wish I felt as sure about his head.”
Doctor Mack adjusted his spectacles, for he was rising sixty, and his eyes required assistance, and opened the letter. As he read it his forehead contracted, and he looked disturbed. A perusal of the letter may help us to understand why. It ran as follows:
“DEAR GUARDIAN: You will be surprised at hearing from me so soon again, but I am really forced to write. I find college life much more expensive than I supposed it would be. A fellow is expected to join two or three societies, and each costs money. I know you wouldn’t have me appear mean. Then the students have been asked to contribute to a fund for the enlargement of the library, and almost every day there is a demand for money for one object or another. As it is nearly the end of the term, I calculate that with a check for an extra hundred dollars I can get along. I am awfully sorry to ask for it, but it will come out of the money father left me, and I am sure he would wish me to keep up appearances, and not fall behind the rest of the boys.
“I stand fairly well in my studies, and I expect to be stroke oar of the college boat club. Besides this, I have been elected catcher of the college baseball club. I am thought to excel in athletic sports, and really enjoy my college life very much. Please send me the check by return of mail. Affectionately yours, WALTER.”
Doctor Mack laid the letter on the table, and slowly removed the glasses from his nose.
“One hundred dollars!” he repeated. “That is the second extra check he has written for, this term. Then his regular term bills will come due in two weeks. He is spending more than three times as much as I did when in college. Forty years have made a difference, no doubt, but not so great a difference as that. I hope the boy isn’t falling into extravagant habits. I care for that more than for the money. His father left a good fortune, of which fact he is unfortunately aware, but I don’t mean that it shall spoil him. Now, what shall I do. Shall I send him the check or not?”
Doctor Mack leaned back in his chair, and thought busily. He felt anxious about his ward, who had entered college early and was now only seventeen. Walter Sherwood was a boy of excellent talent and popular manners, but he was inclined to be self-indulgent and had a large capacity for “enjoyment.” His guardian had fondly hoped that he would lead the class in scholarship, but instead of this he was only doing “fairly well” in his studies. To be sure, he excelled in athletic sports, but, as Doctor Mack reflected, this was not generally considered the chief aim in a college course, except by some of the students themselves.
“I wish I knew just how Walter is making out,” thought the doctor. Then, after a pause, he resumed, with a sudden inspiration: “Why shouldn’t I know? I’ll go over to Euclid to-morrow with out giving Walter any intimation of my visit, and see for myself.”
It may be stated here that Walter Sherwood was a member of the sophomore class in Euclid College, situated in the town of the same name. If the reader does not find Euclid in a list of American colleges, it is because for special reasons I have thought it best to conceal the real name of the college, not wishing to bring the Institution into possible disrepute. There are some who might misjudge the college, because it contained some students who made an unprofitable use of their time.
“Nancy,” said Doctor Mack at the supper-table, “you may pack a hand-bag for me. I shall start on a journey to-morrow morning.”
“Where to, sir, if I may make so bold as to inquire?”
“I think of going to Euclid.”
“To see Master Walter?”
“Exactly.”
“You haven’t heard any bad news, I hope?” said the housekeeper anxiously.
“Oh, no.”
“Then he isn’t sick?”
“Quite the contrary. He is quite strong and athletic, I should judge, from his letter.”
“He will be glad to see you, sir.”
“Well, perhaps so. But you know, Nancy, young people don’t miss their parents and guardians as much as they are missed at home. They have plenty of excitement and society at college.”
“Yes, sir, that’s true, but I’m sure Master Walter won’t forget his old home. If you have room for some cookies I will put some into the bag. Walter is fond of them.”
“No, I think you needn’t do It, Nancy, He has a good boarding-house, and no doubt he gets all the cakes he wants. By the way, I want to take the boy by surprise, so don’t write and let him know I’m coming.”
“No, sir, I won’t.”
This was exactly what the housekeeper had intended to do, for she presumed upon her long service in the family to write a few lines occasionally to the boy whom she had known from the age of six.
“Of course I shall be pleased to give him any message from you.”
“Thank you, Doctor Mack. Tell him if he catches cold I can send him some camomile. Camomile tea is excellent in such cases. My mother and grandmother used it all their lives.”
“You seem to forget that I am a doctor, Nancy. Not that I object to camomile tea—in its place—though I can truly say that I never hankered after it.”
“How long will you be gone, doctor?”
“I can’t say exactly. You see, Euclid is nearly two hundred miles off. and I don’t know whether I can make connections.”
“Oh, well, don’t hurry! No doubt Walter will want to keep you with him as long as possible.”
“I don’t feel so sure of that,” thought the doctor shrewdly. “Boys are not usually so fond of the society of their guardians, though I don’t doubt Walter has a sincere regard for me. He is a warm-hearted boy.”
Doctor Mack was no longer in active practice. Three years before he had selected an assistant—a young Doctor Winthrop—in whom his patients had come to feel confidence, so that when he wanted to go away for a few days there was no serious objection. Unlike some elderly practitioners, Doctor Mack did not feel in the least jealous of his young assistant, but was very glad to note his popularity.
“If any one calls for me, Nancy,” he said, “say that I am away for a day or two and they can’t do better than go to Doctor Winthrop.”
“There are some that like you best, sir.”
“No doubt, no doubt! They’re used to me, you know. There’s a good deal in that. Any that please can wait for me, but my advice to them is to go to Doctor Winthrop.”
Nancy packed the doctor’s hand-bag, putting in a change of linen, a comb and brush, an extra pair of socks and a couple of handkerchiefs. Then, seeing that there was plenty of room, she slipped in a small box of cookies and a little camomile. The doctor discovered them soon after he started on his journey, and with a smile tossed the camomile out of the window, while he gave the cookies to a poor woman who was traveling with a couple of small children in the same car as himself. So that Nancy Sprague’s thoughtfulness was not wholly lost, though the intended recipient did not benefit by it.
Doctor Mack had to wait over at a junction for three hours, owing to some irregularities of the trains, and did not reach Euclid till rather a late hour in the afternoon. He went to the Euclid Hotel, and entered his name,
E. MACK, Albany,
without adding M.D., and substituting Albany for the small village, thirty miles away, where he made his home.
“Strategy, doctor, strategy!” he said to himself, “I have come to spy out the land, and must not make myself too conspicuous. I am traveling, as it were, incognito.”
CHAPTER II
DR. MACK GETS SOME INFORMATION
The Euclid Hotel was distant about half a mile from the college buildings. It would hardly have paid expenses but for the patronage it received from the parents and friends of the students, who, especially on public occasions, were drawn to visit Euclid, and naturally put up at the hotel. Then the students, tired, perhaps, of the fare at the college commons, dropped in often and ordered a dinner. So, take it all in all, Euclid Hotel benefited largely by the presence of the college. No students, however, were permitted to board there, as it was thought by the college professors that the atmosphere of the hotel would be detrimental to college discipline and the steady habits they desired to inculcate in the young men under their care.
“I wonder,” thought Doctor Mack, after supper was over, “whether I had better go round to the college and make an evening call on Walter?”
He was tempted to do so, for he was fond of his young ward and would have enjoyed seeing him. But then he wished, unobserved, to judge for himself whether Walter was making good use of his privileges, and this made it injudicious for him to disclose his presence in the college town.
He strolled out into the tavern yard, and observed a young man engaged in some light duties.
“Good evening, sir,” said the young man, respectfully.
“Good evening, I suppose you are connected with the hotel?”
“Yes, sir; but I would rather be connected with the college.”
“Then you have a taste for study?”
“Yes, sir. I began to prepare for college, and had made some progress in Latin and Greek, when my father died, and that put an end to my prospects.”
“That was a pity. Has it destroyed your taste for study?”
“No, I spend an hour after I am through work in keeping up my Latin and Greek, but of course I make slow progress.”
“Naturally. Now I have no doubt there are many students who do not appreciate their privileges as much as you do.”
“I know it, sir. There are pretty lively boys in college. Have you a son there?”
“No.”
“I didn’t know but what you might have.”
“What do you mean by lively?”
“I mean they care more to have a good time than to get on in their studies.”
“What do they do?”
“Well, some of them belong to societies, and have a good time whenever they meet. Frequently they give little suppers at the hotel here, and keep it up till a late hour.”
“Do the faculty know of this?”
“They may surmise something, but they don’t interfere. Of course, it pays Mr. Daniels, the landlord, for he charges a good round sum, and, as there is no other place for the boys to go, they must pay it. There’s going to be a supper here to-night.”
“Indeed!”
“It is given by one of the sophomores, Walter Sherwood.”
“What name did you mention?” asked Doctor Mack, startled.
“Walter Sherwood. Do you know him?”
“I know a family by the name of Sherwood,” answered Doctor Mack, evasively. “What sort of a young man is he?”
“I don’t call him a young man. He is only seventeen or eighteen—one of the youngest members of the class. He is very popular among his mates—a regular jolly boy he is.”
“Does he stand well in his scholarship?”
The young man laughed.
“I don’t think he troubles himself much about studies,” he replied, “from all I hear; but he is pretty smart, learns easily, and manages to keep up respectably.”
Doctor Mack’s heart sank within him. Was this the best that could be said about his ward, the son of his old friend?
“Do you think he is dissipated?” he asked, uneasily.
“Not that I ever heard. He is fond of having a good time, and drinks wine at his suppers, but he isn’t what you would call intemperate. He would do better work in college if he wasn’t so rich.”
“So he is rich, then?”
“He must be, for he spends a good deal of money. Pendleton, one of his classmates, told me that he spent more money than any one in the class.”
“That is why he needs so many extra checks,” thought the guardian soberly.
“I am sorry he doesn’t make better use of his privileges,” he said aloud.
“Yes, sir, it is a pity. If he didn’t care so much for a good time he might stand at the head of his class—so Pendleton thinks.”
“If he were a poor boy, now, you think the result would be different?” asked Doctor Mack, thoughtfully.
“Yes, sir, I have no doubt of it.”
“When does the supper commence?”
“At half-past eight o’clock.”
“How long will it keep up?”
“Till near midnight. The landlord makes it a point to have them close before twelve. I hope they won’t disturb you, sir.”
“Are they likely to make much noise?”
“Well, sir, they make speeches, and do a good deal of singing. Then, college songs are naturally noisy.”
“Yes, so I hear.”
“What is the number of your room?”
“Number nine.”
“Why, you are nearly opposite the room where they will have their supper. I am afraid you won’t stand much chance of sleeping early.”
“Oh, never mind! I shall get an idea of what a college supper is like.”
“So you will. If you open the transom over your door you will have the full benefit of all that goes on.”
“That will suit me very well,” thought Doctor Mack.
“If you would like to be farther away, the landlord would no doubt change your room.”
“Oh, no,” said the doctor hastily. “It will suit me very well for once to listen to college songs and get an idea of how college boys enjoy themselves.”
“A very sensible old gentleman!” thought James Holden. “Some men of his age would make a fuss.”
A little before the time when the students were expected to arrive Doctor Mack shut himself up in his room, taking care to open the transom. He had ascertained from the young man, his informant, that supper had been engaged for twelve, and that the price charged per plate was two dollars and a half, all to be paid by Walter Sherwood.
“That makes thirty dollars,” he reflected. “No wonder Walter writes for extra checks. I wonderin this thirty dollars is to figure as a contribution to the library?”
From his window he could see the students as they approached the hotel. Finally he caught sight of Walter, with a college friend on each sides with whom he was chatting gaily.
“What a change!” thought Doctor Mack. “It seems only yesterday that Walter started for college, a bashful, unformed boy, full of good resolutions, and determined to distinguish himself in scholarship. Now he has become a gay butterfly. And, what is worse, he has learned to deceive his old guardian, and his chief aim seems to be to have a good time. What can I do to change his course?”
The good doctor’s face assumed a thoughtful look.
“I can tell better after what I shall hear to-night,” he said to himself.
It was not long before the guests were all assembled and the feast was to begin.
Some one rapped for attention, and then Doctor Mack recognized the voice of his young ward.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I am glad to welcome you to this festal board. After spending ten or a dozen hours in hard study”—laughter and applause—“we find it pleasant to close our books, to relax our learned brows”—more laughter—“and show our appreciation of the good things of life. As Horace, your favorite, says”—I won’t insult you by offering to translate his well-known words—“dulce est desipere in loco. That is what has brought us here to-night We want to desipere in loco.”
“So we do! Good for you!” exclaimed one and another.
“I regret,” Walter continued, “that all the professors have declined my urgent invitation to be present on this occasion. Professor Griggs”—the professor of mathematics—“said he would not break away from his regular diet of logarithms and radicals.” Great laughter. “I have expressly requested Mr. Daniels to provide no logarithms to-night. They don’t agree with my constitution.”
“Nor with mine!” “Nor with mine!” echoed one and another.
“I shall expect you all, after the banquet, to do something for the general entertainment. I stipulate, however, that none of the company address us in Latin or Greek.”—“We won’t!” “We won’t!”—“Sufficient for the recitation-room is the evil thereof. But I have spoken long enough. There are times when silence is golden, and one of those times is at hand. Brethren, the feast awaits you! Pitch in!”
The speaker took his seat, and then there was a noise of clinking glasses, and knives and forks came to the front. The banquet had begun.
CHAPTER III
A COLLEGE BANQUET
There was a rattling of knives and forks, a clink of glasses, and a buzz of conversation. Doctor Mack was able to hear considerable of it. There were anecdotes of the professors, accounts of narrow escapes from “flunking” in the recitation-room, and remarks by no means complimentary to some of the text-books in use in college. It was evident that the collegians assembled cared more for a good time than for study. Yet these seemed to be the chosen associates of his ward, the doctor reflected.
As the feast proceeded, he grew more sober. He felt that college life, however much it was doing for the faithful students, was only fostering self-indulgence in his ward.
“Something must be done!” reflected Doctor Mack. “Desperate diseases require desperate remedies.”
Again the chairman rapped for order, and again Walter’s voice was heard.
“Brothers,” he said, “the material part of our banquet is ended. We have gratified our appetites with the savory dishes provided by our friend Daniels. We have quaffed the rare Falernian wine, of a vintage unknown to Horace; we have quickened our wits, as I trust, under those favorable conditions, and the time has now come for the feast of reason and the flow of soul. Exhausted as we are by our labors in the classroom”—great laughter—“we have sought refreshment in the way that is most agreeable. It’s a way we have at old Euclid! Sing!”
Immediately the assembled company started up the well-known college song:
“It’s a way we have at old Euclid,
It’s a way we have at old Euclid,
It’s a way we have at old Euclid,
To drive dull care away.
It’s a way we have at old Euclid,
It’s a way we have at old Euclid,
To drive dull care away.
“And we think it is no sin, sir,
To take the Freshmen in, sir,
And ease them of their tin, sir,
To drive dull care away.
It’s a way we have at old Euclid,
It’s a way we have at old Euclid,
To drive dull care away.”
There were other verses, but these will serve as specimens. All joined in the chorus, and Doctor Mack, who remembered his own college life, felt almost tempted to add his voice to those of the young men in the opposite room.
“But, pshaw!” he thought. “What would Walter and his friends think to hear an old graybeard like me taking part in the convivial songs? There is no great harm in singing college songs, if it is accompanied by good work in the recitation-room.”
“Brothers,” resumed Walter, “we will do our best to drive dull care away. Let us forget, this happy evening, that there are such things as logarithms, and sines, and tangents, and Greek tragedies. To-night our hearts shall be uplifted by sentiment and song. Brother Corbett, you will oblige us with ‘Rumsty Ho!’”
A young man with a pleasant voice sang this song, one unfamiliar to the doctor:
“A beggar man laid himself down to sleep,
Rumsty Ho! rumsty Ho!
A beggar man laid himself down to sleep
By the banks of the Mersey, so high and steep,
Rumsty Ho! rumsty Ho!
“Two thieves came walking by that way,
Rumsty Ho! rumsty Ho!
Two thieves came walking by that way,
And they came to the place where the old man lay,
Rumsty Ho! rumsty Ho!
“They stole his wallet and they stole his staff,
Rumsty Ho! rumsty Ho!
They stole his wallet and they stole his staff,
And then broke out in a great horse-laugh,
Rumsty Ho! rumsty Ho!”
There was more of this song, too. Next came “Crambambuli,” and then “Cocach-lunk” both of which were familiar to the doctor.
Then Walter said: “Brothers, I have great pleasure in stating that Professor Griggs has concluded to honor our dinner by his learned presence, and has consented to address us. Permit me to introduce Professor Theophilus Griggs.”
One of the company had made up as the mathematical professor. In a nasal tone he made a rambling speech, in which he introduced mathematical allusions, and used some of the favorite phrases of the rather dull and prosy instructor, with whom all the students were familiar, some to their sorrow. It seemed to be very amusing to the boys present, as shown by their hearty laughter, but of course Doctor Mack could not appreciate it.
Other songs and other speeches followed. Though for the most part college songs, there were some of a more serious character. Time slipped by, and at length Doctor Mack saw by his watch that it was half-past eleven.
“How long will they keep it up, I wonder?” he asked himself. “I feel drowsy.”
He was answered by the chairman.
“Brothers,” he said, “time waits for no man. The hour has arrived when, according to agreement, we must wind up our festivities. Hand in hand we will sing ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ hoping, at some auspicious season after the coming vacation is over, to have another good time. I thank you all for accepting my invitation, and hope you have enjoyed yourselves.”
“Three cheers for Sherwood!” cried one of the company.
They were given with a will. Then the parting song was sung, and the students retired to their rooms in one of the college dormitories.
Doctor Mack went thoughtfully to bed.
“It is well I came,” he reflected. “Walter has done nothing decidedly wrong as yet, but it is evident he is not improving.”
“Well,” said James Holdens as he met Doctor Mack the next morning, “did you hear the boys last night?”
“I couldn’t very well help it,” answered the doctor, smiling. “That young Sherwood seems to be very popular.”
“Yes, sir; he is very free with his money.”
“In what other way does he spend it?”
“Mr. Daniels keeps half a dozen horses to let to students and others. Sherwood hires a team at least twice a week, and of course it counts up.”
“I was not able to spend money in that way when I attended college.”
“Then you are a college graduate?” said Holden.
“Yes.”
“Did you graduate at Euclid?”
“No; I am a Yale man.”
“I congratulate you, sir; I should like to graduate from Yale.
“I hope you may, some time, my young friend. You would derive more benefit, I’ll be bound, than those young roysterers of last evening.”
“I hope they didn’t keep you awake, sir.”
“They certainly did as long as they stayed. I should have gone to bed soon afterward, but that I had something on my mind. By the way, don’t mention to any of the students that they had an unseen listener.”
“No, sir.”
Doctor Mack took the first train after breakfast, and returned to his home without seeing his ward.
Nancy Sprague questioned him eagerly.
“And how is Master Walter?” she asked.
“Very well, indeed, Nancy.”
“Was he surprised to see you?”
“He didn’t see me, Nancy.”
“He didn’t see you!” ejaculated the housekeeper.
“No; the fact was, I went away on a matter of business, and it was not convenient to call on Walter. But I heard him.”
“I don’t see how you could have been near him without seeing him.”
“I shall see him soon, Nancy, and so will you. In two weeks vacation will be here. Examinations are near, and I might have interfered with his studies,” the doctor added, with a little innocent evasion.
“To be sure, sir! To be sure! I make no doubt Master Walter is a great scholar.”
“I have very strong doubts on that point myself,” thought Doctor Mack, but he did not care to express himself thus to Nancy.
“I am so glad the dear boy is coming home soon,” murmured the housekeeper. “He has been studying so hard he needs a good long rest. I will make some cookies expressly for him after he comes. I don’t believe he gets any at college.”
“I wonder what Nancy would say if she could have seen Walter presiding at the supper, and heard the songs?” thought Doctor Mack.
