A VISIT TO PROFESSOR FULLER
Whatever may have been Ray Wendell’s feelings that night, my own were
varied and conflicting. Not that I repented of our decision. By no
means. If the question had again been presented to us in the manner
in which it had been proposed by Dr. Drayton the evening previous, I
should have made the same answer. But, at the same time, the importance
of our college duties, and their claim upon our attention, made me
regret more deeply the necessity that had compelled such a choice as
ours.
Frequently during the night would arise the question: “Should I have
sacrificed my college interests for baseball?” and almost immediately
would come the feeling that we had been treated unjustly in being
forced to such a choice, and that we were right in rejecting it. The
more I considered the matter, however, the more in doubt I became. From
this doubt Professor Fuller offered the only chance of relief, and I
maintained unwavering trust in him.
“I won’t get discouraged about the matter until I hear what the ‘old
governor’ has to say,” I repeated to myself.
Professor Fuller was the oldest and by far the most popular member of
the faculty. He was always the student’s first friend on his entrance
into Belmont; and many a homesick boy had cause to remember most
gratefully the kind attention of the professor at a time when the
surroundings were strange to him and he was sadly in need of friendly
advice. The old gentleman had always made it a principle to interest
himself in all newcomers, to welcome them, and make them feel at home.
By innumerable little acts of kindness he would manifest his fatherly
interest in the boys, who loved him one and all with a warmth of
feeling second only to that which they possessed for their parents.
There was no student who had not at some time felt the kindly
influence of Professor Fuller, but it was the boy in trouble who
always had special cause to be grateful. To him the students turned
instinctively when in need of guidance or advice, and no one ever came
away disappointed. It was this that had won for him the title of “the
old governor,” which was no disrespectful name, but a genuine term of
endearment, and was used by the fellows with feelings of the utmost
affection.
It was no idle thought, therefore, that suggested Professor Fuller’s
name to me, nor a vain hope that led us to seek his counsel in our
trouble.
Immediately after breakfast the following morning I sought out Ray
Wendell that we might lose no time in making our call on the professor.
We met at the post office, and one glance at his face showed me that
Ray’s mind was scarcely more at ease than my own. Few words were
exchanged as we walked along the shady lane at the left of the college
grounds, leading to Professor Fuller’s house. This was situated quite
a distance back from the gate, in the midst of a large lawn, which was
cut off from the street by a high hedge of evergreens.
As we approached we heard just on the other side of this hedge a
female voice calling to Sport, the professor’s large collie dog, who
was burrowing under the bushes. On entering the gate, we saw Miss
Nettie Fuller leaning forward over a bank of flowers. She was a bright
and attractive girl of sixteen and was held in the highest regard by
the students who were fortunate enough to know her. Both of us being
acquaintances of long standing, we stopped to speak to her. She did not
notice us at first, for her face was hidden by a large sunbonnet, and
her attention was engaged in her work, and in keeping the dog out of
mischief.
“Sport, Sport, come here and leave that poor squirrel alone!” she
called, turning her head toward the hedge.
At this moment the squirrel broke cover, and rushed across the path
directly in front of us, Sport after it in hot pursuit. Immediately we
dashed for him. Sport saw us coming, shied to one side, and brought
us all down in a heap on the gravel path, Ray, however, retaining a
firm hold on the dog’s collar. There was a sharp scuffle, a yelp from
Sport, and the three of us rolled over and over in a confused mass.
Miss Nettie screamed faintly as she turned round; then, taking in the
situation, she burst into a peal of laughter, while we disentangled
ourselves, and got up.
“We were trying to make ourselves useful, Miss Nettie,” said Ray, as he
picked up his hat and dusted off his clothes. “I hope we were, for we
have ruined our chances of being ornamental.”
Thinking that she had perhaps laughed too hard at us, Miss Nettie
blushed and sobered down.
“I hope you are not hurt,” she said. “Please excuse my laughing so. I
fear you think I am very rude to receive visitors in such a manner.”
“Not when visitors call so informally,” returned Ray, with a smile.
There was a silence. Miss Nettie had taken off her sunbonnet, and was
swinging it by the strings. She evidently wished to say something, but
was in some doubt how to begin. Surmising what the subject might be, I
asked:
“Is Professor Fuller in, Miss Nettie?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, looking up quickly. Then, continuing her gaze,
she said slowly, “I think I know what you want to see him for.”
“No doubt of it,” answered Ray gravely. “The whole town will know it by
to-night.”
“I can’t tell you how awfully sorry I am,” went on Miss Nettie, with
an accent of genuine sympathy. “I heard all about it at breakfast this
morning, and I think you are having a great deal more trouble than you
deserve.”
We looked at her gratefully.
“It wasn’t your fault if the other boys didn’t behave,” she continued
earnestly. “You did all you could to keep them quiet, and it was very
mean of them to get you into such trouble.”
“The boys didn’t intend to, Miss Nettie,” I said, laughing.
Notwithstanding her injustice to the other boys, I was pleased to have
her take our part so warmly.
“I don’t care,” she said emphatically. “They should have done as you
said.”
“I am sure I wish they had,” said Ray fervently.
“As for bringing back the cannons, I think you ought to have the vote
of thanks of the whole town instead of being suspended as if you had
done something wrong. To think of your going away over to Berkeley and
taking the cannons right off their campus! Oh, it was splendid! I got
awfully excited while father was telling me about it. If I had been a
boy I would have gone along too――and I told father so.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Nettie,” said Ray. “I only hope your father
is as generous in his opinion of us as you are.”
Miss Nettie looked at us with an expression of significance.
“To tell the truth,” she said lowering her voice, “I think father
enjoyed the story as much as I did, and I believe he admires you for
what you did. But don’t let him know that I told you.”
We were considerably relieved to hear this.
“You will find father in the library, I think,” she added. “Come in and
I will see.”
The professor was seated at his table when we entered the library, but
he rose at once and greeted us with his cordial smile, and a warm clasp
of the hand.
“Good morning, boys,” he said. “I half expected to see you this
morning. Be seated.”
Miss Nettie here left us with her father, who resumed his chair, while
we sat down opposite him. Then there was an awkward pause.
“Well, out with it,” said Professor Fuller at length. “I can easily
guess your errand.”
“We have come to see you about our suspension,” said Ray. “We want your
advice.”
“Why, what advice can I give you?” he asked. “You have made your own
decision. Doesn’t that dispose of the matter?”
“We fear it does,” said Ray, “but we have come to see if there is any
hope for us under the circumstances. Is there no possible chance of our
obtaining some remittance of this penalty?”
“A chance was offered you, was it not?”
“Yes, sir, but the conditions imposed forced us to decline that
chance,” answered Ray.
Professor Fuller’s face was grave but kindly.
“And do you think,” he asked, “that baseball is more important than
your success in college?”
“No, sir, by no means,” answered Ray earnestly. “Nor did we intend to
give Dr. Drayton that impression. While meaning no disrespect either
to Dr. Drayton or the faculty, we cannot help feeling that we were
placed in an unfair position. Our penalty was five weeks’ suspension
for taking part in the disturbances of night before last. Now, if we
deserved five weeks why was it not assigned as our penalty without
further question? If we deserved two weeks, why was not that assigned?
But this baseball matter was dragged in to influence the question. What
has our playing baseball to do with the question as to whether our
penalty for a misdemeanor shall be five or two weeks? Playing baseball
is not a misdemeanor. We felt that our penalty should be assigned
simply on our behavior in this case, without being conditioned upon
outside matters that have nothing to do with it. We feel that Dr.
Drayton has taken advantage of our helpless position to force us into
giving up baseball. Our parents do not object to our playing, and we do
not see why we should be compelled to make such a choice as was offered
us. This is what we think is not fair.”
Ray had grown bolder as he continued, so that, by the time he finished,
I feared Professor Fuller would be angry. The latter, however, was
quite calm, and listened quietly with folded hands.
When Ray ceased speaking he said:
“Of course, boys, you know that, however much I may sympathize with
you, I must speak, as a member of the faculty. But I appreciate the
whole weight of what you say, and am sure that you believe that you are
doing what is right under the circumstances. I can easily understand
your making such a choice, considering the manner in which the matter
was presented to you, and I do not wonder at your feelings at the
present moment. I will be frank enough to say that the proposition was
Dr. Drayton’s and that he carried the matter through. The penalty that
would have been assigned under ordinary circumstances was five weeks’
suspension. We took into consideration, however, the many mitigating
circumstances in your case, and we were inclined to lessen the sentence
greatly. It was then that Dr. Drayton bethought him of this condition.
I will not say anything about the matter further than that it was Dr.
Drayton’s action entirely. As he was earnestly bent upon your accepting
this condition, I can easily understand why your choice should have
annoyed him.”
“And is it hopeless?” I asked anxiously.
“That is a question I do not like to answer directly,” said Professor
Fuller, smiling. “What would become of the college if the boys should
look to me to reverse the decisions of the faculty? I have no such
power, you know, nor should I want it. I would be in hot water all
the time. I will say this much, however: that I sympathize with you
heartily, and that I will see if anything can be done.”
“That is the most we expected,” put in Ray, his face brightening.
“Don’t expect too much,” said the professor. “All that I can do is to
see Dr. Drayton and talk the matter over with him. The whole question
rests with him, and his authority alone will decide it. The rest of the
faculty would be willing enough to relinquish the condition. What my
interview with Dr. Drayton will result in remains to be seen. He is a
man of strong convictions, as you know, and apt to be especially set in
his way when seriously annoyed.”
“I am afraid he is very angry,” said I.
“No doubt of it; still there isn’t a better man at heart to be found
than Dr. Drayton, and you can expect justice. I speak from long
experience, for I knew him as a classmate years ago, and I have lived
close to him the greater part of my life. I will bring the matter up in
a few days, when I think the annoyance will have passed away. Meantime
what are you going to do?”
“We will move out into town temporarily,” I answered. “Of course we
cannot attend recitations, nor go upon the college grounds, but we must
stay here at Belmont for the sake of the ball nine if for nothing else.”
“It will be best for you to stay for several reasons,” said the
professor. “Have you written to your parents about the matter?”
“No, sir.”
“Better do so at once, and so anticipate the formal notification which
Mr. Dikes will have to send them. Tell your story in full, and then,
when the notification comes, your parents will understand it. Now as
to your studies. I suppose you intend to keep abreast of your classes?”
“We would like to,” answered Ray, “but we feared that we would be
unable to do so without the privilege of attending lectures.”
“Not at all,” said the professor. “Let some one of your classmates
bring you his written notes to copy each day. You can get Mr. Dikes
to tutor you. He does that sort of work frequently. I strongly advise
this for your own good, and because I know that the fact that you are
conscientiously working to keep up with your classes will influence Dr.
Drayton in your favor.”
This suggestion we caught at gladly. Under Professor Fuller’s
encouraging words, the affair was rapidly taking on a more cheerful
aspect. We continued to talk the matter over for some time longer, and
when at length we rose to go, it was with hearts considerably lightened.
“I don’t know how we can thank you for your kindness,” said Ray
earnestly, as we stood by the door.
“Why, I have done nothing as yet but talk,” answered the professor,
smiling. “Wait a few days, and we’ll see what can be done. However it
may turn out, don’t be discouraged. Make the best of it, work hard and
you need not be despondent.”
Once more shaking us warmly by the hand, he bade us good morning, and
returned to his library, while we hastened over to the college to make
preparations for our change of quarters.