I
The glimpse to be caught of the outer world through the wide west
entrance of the main building, as a scurrying undergraduate, now and
then, leaned sidewise against the heavy door and pushed it back, was not
cheering. There was snow upon the ground; snow that lay not white and
glistening in a strong light, but smudged and indelicate beneath the low
hanging smoke. At either side of the broad, rounded tar walk, now
covered with ashen gray ice, Paddy's plow had piled the snow in two
rows. The maples were gaunt, skeleton-like, and the wind that cried in
their branches was chill to the ear and to the cheek.
When the thick door was flung back to permit the passage of a youth
becomingly dressed for the season in loose trousers that, not
infrequently, were rolled into high russet lace boots; closely buttoned
coat, above the throat of which rose the blue tower of a sweater collar;
or to allow the entrance of a girl in tam-o'-shanter and furs, her few
books hugged close to her breast, the various notices and handbills on
the bulletin board at the left of the corridor fluttered, often to be
torn from the clips and sent soaring down the hall.
On the square marble-topped radiator in the middle of the floor opposite
the door of the president's office sat Kerwin. Another youth was
slouching beside him.
Kerwin knocked his heavy heels against the pipes of the heater and
looked down at his loafing acquaintance with eyes that twinkled
unceasingly. Kerwin was not beautiful. He was round of face--all but his
jaw; that was square. His hair was red and grew in divers "cow licks"
that rendered brushing futile. On the backs of his hands, despite the
season, were large, circular freckles. The frat. pin he wore on the
breast of his blue sweater suggested certain of his characteristics with
singular precision. It was a kite-shaped affair, bordered with tiny
pearls and emeralds, alternating, and the Greek letters across the
middle were Delta Psi Phi. Not by the Greek, however, were the owner's
characteristics indicated--unless, of course, to Kerwin himself--but by
the symbols of the order the insignia of which it was and which
consisted of a weird, staring, human eye--the "white" enamel, and the
"pupil" emerald--, a flat lamp of the sort they are making in Germany
and digging up in Pompeii, and a round, moon-face.
The little freshman at the radiator had been eyeing the pin curiously
for some minutes.
"Say," he said finally, and Kerwin looked down.
"What?"
"Tell me the meaning of that eye."
The twinkle grew in Kerwin's own.
"That!" he exclaimed, burying his chin in the huge collar of the sweater
and pulling out the garment like the cuticle of the elastic-skinned boy,
the better to examine the badge. "Oh, that is the all-seeing eye of the
frat. It means that the fellow who wears our pin--it means that I am
next, that I'm on--up to the game; that no hot air goes with me. See?"
His eyes met the little independent freshman's squarely and soberly.
"Oh, does it," the latter replied with interest. "Then what does that
thing mean?" With a chubby forefinger he indicated the lamp.
"Now, that's different," Kerwin continued, none the less grave. "That is
symbolic of brilliancy. It indicates brilliancy of the highest order.
Yes, siree; a chap's got to be _mighty_ brilliant to wear that!"
Again their eyes met and the little independent's were alight with
interest still.
"And that?" It was the moon-face at the bottom of the pin that next came
in for an explanation. The little fellow grinned back at it feelingly.
"Ah, that's the best of all," Kerwin exclaimed. It was quite as though
he were telling a pretty fairy story to a child. "That denotes
geniality, joviality, and--there's another 'ality' in the list, but I've
forgotten it for the moment. You understand, though, don't you?"
"Oh, yes, I understand."
And then--this is hard to believe--what did that little freshman do but
ask:
"Say, what do you think my chances are of ever wearing a pin like that?"
Kerwin almost fell off the radiator. He had heard of freshmen as fresh
as this one, but at the stories of such he had always smiled, regarding
them as pleasant fictions. Recovering, he realized that his duty was to
disillusion the youth who awaited his reply, with a look of anxiety in
his clear eyes. So----
"Very slim," he replied, brutally, sliding off his marble perch. "Very
slim indeed! You see," he added, buttoning his coat and measuring with
his eye the distance to the transverse corridor, "you're too bloomin'
fresh ever to wear anything but a cornflower, or a wood-violet at best."
He ran then, and, even before the little independent realized the full
significance of the speech, was out of sight.
It was quite two minutes later by the clock above the president's door
that the blush began to mount the youngster's cheeks. He gathered his
books under one arm and tiptoed down the corridor, staring at the floor
and regretting heartily that he had even so much as mentioned the
pictures on his classmate's--his wiser classmate's--pin.
But the displeasure that he suffered so keenly, the chagrin that forbade
a lifting of his eyes, and the realization--harder to bear than the
rest--that he had displayed his freshness so frankly, were emotions of
the moment only, for when, two weeks later, his "stringer" came up
before his class as the fraternity candidate for the toast-mastership he
cast his ballot for him regardless of the fact that his own independent
brethren had put forward a man as well. For, you see, that was Kerwin's
way of making friends; perhaps not the best way, to be sure, but, in
Kerwin's case, justified by its success.
On behalf of their man the independent faction waged a valiant fight.
Campus legend told them that for many years their class ancestors had
seen victory wrested from them, once almost at the moment of victory, so
in caucus they decided that they had "stood it long enough."
"Winning or not," an enthusiastic speaker cried on that occasion, "we'll
show 'em a few things."
And show them a few things they did, but the things didn't count, in the
wholly unexpected incident that occurred, of a sudden, to cast them into
confusion, panic, chaos.
Norse was their "man." After the first ballot all was rosy for a little
minute and then what did Norse do but rise in his seat, and with a
calmness that was appalling withdraw in Kerwin's favor! It was a
proceeding entirely unprecedented. The jaws of the fraternity men
dropped. As for the independents they merely gazed at one another,
blinking, their cheeks colorless.
In the silence some one with a grain of reason left in working order
moved that Kerwin's election be made unanimous. The independents forgot
to vote. There was not a solitary "nay." It was the succeeding cheer
that aroused the independents finally. They hissed; they wrangled; and a
girl was seen quickly to draw away from a group near which she was
standing, for a youth with eyeglasses and long hair had used a few
words that were hardly delicate.
As Kerwin was rushed down the room to the rostrum he heard some one ask,
with cutting sarcasm, "Is Norse looking for a bid from your frat.?"
Kerwin took no note of the irony, replying, "He ought to have one." As
he stepped behind the chairman's table he turned suddenly, and brought
his fist down hard, exclaiming: "By Jove! I see now how it was!"
"How?" a henchman at his elbow asked, eagerly.
"Why, I helped out Norse in the entrance exam. in geometry. Never
occurred to me till this minute. He sat next me; told me in the hall
geom. was what he was afraid of. I didn't pass him a pony but I gave him
a couple of cues. I guess this is his way of repaying me. Wait a
second." He broke through the crescent that had formed in front of the
table.
Deserted by all his former champions who, with sneers and dire threats
flung in his direction had left, Norse still sat by a window at the
back, bent over a copy of that day's issue of the _U. of M. Daily_.
Kerwin went to him and held out his hand, which the other took,
grinning. They talked in undertones a minute and as Kerwin joined his
heelers at the table Norse strode out of the room.
"That was it!" the victor exclaimed radiantly. "That's why he did
it--what I said. I asked him straight out if it was to curry favor with
the frat. crowd and he said it wasn't. Said he couldn't join one if he
wanted to. His father thinks they're no good. I told him maybe the gang
would try to even up with him for withdrawing. He grinned and said 'let
'em.' He's all right, fellows. We've got to play square with him. I
offered him the best toast on the list right off the bat--'The
Girls'--but he wouldn't accept it. Said he guessed he'd rather not. Said
he's no good talking to a crowd, and doesn't know enough about girls to
have an opinion one way or the other."
"Better take him over to Ypsilanti," a youthful Don Juan cried.
"Gee! He is fresh!" another ventured.
"What does he want, anyway?" was asked.
"Nothing. Wouldn't it kill you?" Kerwin replied. "I told him he'd better
look out they don't try to do him up."
"You'd better keep your own eye peeled," was suggested by a little
fellow on the outer edge of the crescent. "They're sore clear
through--turned down for ten years running. Better stay in nights, or
you'll show up at the banquet with no hair or an iodine-face, if you
even show up at all----"
"Don't you believe it!" Kerwin exclaimed, with rare bravado. "Norse said
he'd help me if they get funny. He's a husky guy; did you get a good
look at him, fellows? I'm not worrying about the independents any; it's
the sophomores I'm going to keep my eyes on. I inferred from what Norse
said, there's something in the air. If he finds out what it is he'll put
me next. We can depend on him, fellows. He's a regular crackerjack!"
"Well, don't be too sure of yourself," was the significant warning that
caused Kerwin to exclaim:
"Rot! Let 'em come--let 'em _all_ come! Don't you fellows lie awake
nights worrying about little Willie. He's old enough to sit up and take
notice."
And the crescent in front of the table broke.
It was gratitude simply that prompted Kerwin to take Norse to Ypsilanti
one evening during the week following and make him known to a Miss
Myrtle Green of the normal school. It was obvious to Kerwin that Norse's
ignorance of girls was not due to any disinclination on his part to
abolish that state. Indeed he seemed to hunger for knowledge on the
subject. As for Miss Green she seemed quite willing to instruct him. He
became a regular caller. The other girls learned to speak of him as
"Myrtle's steady." And Myrtle seemed agreeable that he should continue
just that.