JOE SMITH'S CHOICE
Joe Smith's den in the dormitory of his dearly beloved Alma Mater was
the favorite haunt of not only his intimate friends but of many other
students who had yielded to the charm of his personality. His influence
for good and his popularity with the student body had also attracted the
attention and commendation of the faculty, whose opinion was best
expressed by one of their number who had openly made a statement to the
effect that when the boys were with Smith they were quite as safe as
when in company with their teachers. But on this particular evening in
early November Joe was alone. It had been a dreary depressing day with
the cold rain beating on the rattling window panes and a complaining
wind whistling mournfully through the bare trees. The young man's face
almost seemed to reflect the gloominess of the dull gray evening sky
into which he gazed with the vain hope of discovering a let-up that at
least would permit a pleasant evening's walk.
A knock at the door interrupted his gloomy reflections and in his eager
haste to admit his visitors he knocked over several pieces of furniture
that impeded his progress.
The next moment four boisterous forms, not awaiting Joe's invitation
burst into the room rather unceremoniously. Two of them were Sophomore
room-mates whose rooms were located on the same floor of the dormitory.
Joe did not know them intimately but he did know that they were regarded
rather dubiously by some of the students who had had dealings with them.
In fact there was a rumor that the younger of the two was closely
watched by the authorities. The other two were from the city, but were
frequent callers at the college.
As a rule Joe shunned the company of the two "Sophs," but this evening
he was glad that it was the merry quartette that had thus visited him
rather than some of his quieter and more studious friends.
"What's on tonight, Joe?" began one by way of opening the conversation.
"Nothing," replied Joe gloomily, kicking spitefully at the mantle top,
"unless you fellows will stay and spend the evening."
"And all become as glum as you," replied another, mimicking Joe's
dejected appearance.
"See here, Joe, we want you to come with us tonight. Why can't you?"
Joe whistled dolefully, but his interest aroused, he inquired
questioningly:
"Where are you going?"
"To Bordell's--for a harmless little game of pool. Everybody goes,
everybody but a 'Percy dear,'" replied the younger of the Sophomores
with an air of superiority.
Joe's face flushed and he faced the speaker, but the other Sophomore
spoke before Joe's indignant thoughts could find utterance.
"That's all you know about it, Rex," he said reprovingly. "Why, lots of
splendid fellows never play billiards and they aren't mollycoddles by
any means. I do think though that they are depriving themselves of
innocent pleasures."
Then turning to Joe in a very conciliatory tone he again urged, "Come
Smith, you'll go with us tonight," and he rested his hand persuasively
on Joe's shoulder. There was something wonderfully fascinating about the
older of these two Sophomores; so Joe thought. But he only said, "And
after Bordell's, I suppose, will come Steinberg's?"
His four visitors laughed in hearty unison, and the one whom they called
Rex exclaimed in a sarcastic tone:
"There's no harm in that, is there? A drink never hurts a _gentleman_."
"But it doesn't always leave them gentlemen," remarked Joe emphatically.
"Of course, Smith," replied the elder of the Sophomores assuming a
persuasive tone, "we shan't urge you. We asked you because we like you,
and because you like a little harmless fun. If you don't come I'm afraid
you'll regret it when you are here alone. Or, by the way, won't Reydal
come?"
"Yes, Reydal," and from the woe-begotten tone of his voice the
happy-go-lucky visitors knew they had scored a point. Suddenly Joe's
boyish laugh rang out--that laugh that won for him so many friends.
"Reydal," he repeated, still laughing. "Reydal, with his philosophy of
gloom, and his face as long as a gypsy's tale of woe. He will sit
opposite me here by the fire; he'll spread his coat, open his book, and
try to hide his mouth and chin behind his number twenty collar. Then
from the depths of shining celluloid he'll quote his own views,
contradicting some by-gone philosopher, until the welcome stroke of ten
relieves me. Poor Reydal, how can I escape him?"
A sense of shame for this uncharitable attitude toward his most intimate
college chum possessed Joe Smith before he had finished his humorous
sarcasm, but he was in an unaccountable mood just then.
"We've told you how you can escape him," urged one of the boys from town
as they started for the door. "We've got some visiting to do in the
dorm, but will call for you in an hour or so, and if you should decide
not to go with us--there is always Reydal."
Joe joined with them in the laughter that followed this sally, and then
reentered the room, thrilled with a delightful feeling of anticipated
adventure.
"There's no harm," he assured himself as if repeating a lesson. Just
then another knock sounded and a cheery voice called, "The lion's share
for you tonight Smith," and the evening mail was thrown on the table.
The minister's son looked it over carelessly, too excited to take an
interest in it, until his eyes caught the sight of a square envelope
addressed in round childish letters.
He tore it open with a quick characteristic gesture, and as he did so a
small photograph fell out. Two childish faces with eyes equally
appealing and lovely gazed up at him. Joe regarded it with the look of
tenderness which he always felt for children, and then placed it on a
conspicuous place on the mantle. He then directed his attention to the
enclosed letter which was written in Periwinkle's now familiar hand. The
letter told of their experiences at school, of Pearl's singing in the
children's choir, and of his interest in a boys' Bible class which he
had joined. He mentioned that Aunt Hetty had given Mrs. Farwell a long
extension on the mortgage held against her and that Robert Grey had paid
in part already and that the money had been laid aside until he was old
enough to go to Joe's college.
"Aunt Hetty is very good to us," the letter continued. "She says we are
improving in conduct. But I told her it was because of you, Smith. Pearl
says I can't be as good as you. She is right, but that don't keep me
from trying. I am afraid, Smith, that Washington Grey would still have a
black eye, if I hadn't thought of you just before I was going to hit
him. I thought to myself, 'Smith wouldn't do anything that wasn't right,
and if I want to be like him I've got to try pretty hard.' Pearl sends
her love, Smith, and so do I. She is making you something for Christmas,
but it's going to be a surprise. Good-bye for now.
Your friend,
Perry Toddles."
Having finished reading the letter, Joe rose and flung the window
wide-open, breathing deeply of the moisture-laden air. Something seemed
to be choking him--"Smith wouldn't do anything that wasn't right!" His
mind was in a turmoil--how that thought conflicted with the impulse of
the previous moment. Below, the city lights, seductive and full of
mystery, sent their alluring invitation through the fog. Down there he
would find congenial friends and pleasure--as youth desired it.
Here--yes, but "Smith wouldn't do anything that wasn't right, and I want
to be just like him."
The sound of music, alluring, enticing, came faintly to his ears; the
lights signalled frantically and the wily city smiled her invitation
more urgently than ever before--and then that compelling voice of a
conscience that responded to the inviolable faith of his little
hero-worshipper--"Smith wouldn't do anything--"
The door burst open violently. "Ready, old Pal?" Their chorused inquiry
brought him to his feet--he hesitated--and then closing the window with
a bang the minister's son faced his questioners.
"I'm not going," he replied quietly but resolutely.
"Not going?" echoed his visitors quite taken aback. They had been so
sure of him. They needed him, a student who stood in so well with the
professors.
"Not going," said Rex and continued with a sneering laugh, "I suppose
you prefer Reydal?"
"Yes," was the rejoinder, "I prefer--Reydal."
Then moved by a sudden impulse Joe called out: "Come in fellows I want
to tell you why I can not go."
He took the picture from the mantle and handed it to them.
"Here is a little girl who believes in me with all her heart, and here
is a boy who wants to be just like myself. He doesn't believe that Smith
would do anything that was not square. It makes a lot of difference when
anyone believes in you like that."
Feeling the force of Joe's argument and realizing the futility of
attempting to change his decision, his disappointed visitors left. But
many times that evening, in the midst of their hilarious fun, thoughts
of those who believed in them as the boy and girl believed in Joe
persisted in rising uncalled in their minds.
Some minutes after the four had left, a tall broad form, whose neck
encased in an enormous collar rendered him especially conspicuous,
entered the room without the ceremony of knocking.
"I've come to discuss with you a rather abstruse statement which I have
found in Bersey's 'The Human Mind,'" boomed forth a voice from the
depths of the said collar.
"Sit down, Reydal, sit down," urged Joe, placing the easiest chair in
the den before the fire. "We still have two hours for our chat."