From the moment that he out-boxed that big sophomore, thus saving the
honor of the class and bringing everlasting glory to the foresters,
Scott’s reputation was established. From an unknown stranger passing
quietly and unnoticed from class to class, he had become the lion of the
College and one of the “popular” men of the University. Men he had never
known hailed him familiarly on the street and in the corridors; girls he
had never met smiled at him frankly. A reporter tried to get an
interview with him for a big daily paper. Clubs, societies,
associations, fraternities, organizations of which he would never have
had any knowledge if it had not been for that fateful boxing match,
opened their doors to him and invited him cordially to enter. After the
quiet life he had led in the little village, with his limited
acquaintance and Dick Bradshaw for his only intimate friend, this new
life opening before him thrilled him and tingled through his blood like
old wine. He remembered his father’s injunction to mix, to study men and
learn human character; his new life would give him the opportunity to do
it.
He thought he knew now what his father had meant by “responsible
companions,” and felt that the fulfillment of that part of the condition
for the ten thousand acres was as good as accomplished.
He accepted many of the invitations, took an interest in many of the
student activities opened to him, and began to drift more and more into
society. His after-supper hour of recreation stretched to two, three,
and even four hours, till it looked as though he would have to carry out
the threat he had made to Johnson that he would sit up all night
studying after the match. Many of his new amusements were expensive, and
he soon found himself exceeding his allowance. At last the theater
parties, fraternity dances and other diversions became so frequent that
he found it impossible to get in the hours of study he had prescribed
for himself.
He wrote to Dick Bradshaw of his triumph in the championship match and
the consequent honors and civilities that had been heaped upon him. He
wrote to his father of his wide acquaintance, of his active
participation in the life of the University as a whole, and the great
success he was making. Incidentally he asked for an increased allowance.
In short, Scotty’s head was rapidly being turned by his sudden rise to
the position of popular idol. He knew in his heart that he was acting
foolishly, and would have condemned his own actions if he had taken the
time to think seriously about them, but he was too busy and too
hilariously happy to think about them at all.
This had been going on for about a month when an impending examination
in a subject that he had been sorely neglecting forced him to put in a
quiet evening’s study with Johnson. Such evenings had become exceedingly
rare of late, and for the first time in his life he found that intense
studying for a long time was irksome, in fact he found it hard to
concentrate his mind enough to study intensely at all.
About eleven o’clock he yawned, looked longingly at the bed and closed
his book with a bang. What was the use of studying so hard, anyway, the
examination would take care of itself, he had never failed in one in his
life. Johnson, who had missed Scott sorely in his long lonesome evenings
of study had been watching him furtively with an expression, half
pitying, half contemptuous. He had come to admire Scott intensely, and
he hated to see his hero falling so rapidly, and for the objects he had
always considered so trivial. He thought that Scott would probably
resent any criticism from him, but he was still loyal. He had trained
Scott up to that fight and if possible he was going to train him down
again. He was no coward and grasped the opportunity to put the
disagreeable business through without delay.
“Quitting already?” he asked casually, as Scott slammed to his book.
“Yes,” Scott answered with another yawn, “I’m going to bed. I’m sleepy
and sick of the stuff. Guess I know enough to pass anyway.”
“Scotty,” Johnson asked bluntly, “how much allowance have you?”
Scott looked up in surprise, for it was the first time that Johnson had
ever asked him such a question, and he did not see what he was after.
But he answered frankly. “Forty dollars a month, but I’m running shy.
Did you want to borrow some?”
“No,” Johnson answered somewhat proudly, “I earn all I need. Bronson has
five hundred a month, Swanson six, and Edwards all he can use.”
These were some of the men Scott had been going with but he could not
see the point of Johnson’s remark.
“What’s that got to do with it?”
Johnson came out with it like a man. “Just this, Scotty. Those fellows
all have dollars to your pennies and they are going a pace that you
cannot stand. They don’t care whether they get through College in four
years or forty. If you try to keep up with them you will soon be in debt
up to your ears, and as soon as all your money’s gone they will drop you
like a hot cake. You’re not in their class.”
“Not in their class!” Scott answered indignantly. “My family is as good
as, or better than theirs, any day and that’s what counts. It does not
matter home whether you have money or not as long as your family is all
right. You can pick all the millionaires you want for company.”
“It may be all right there,” Johnson answered quietly, “but it won’t
work here. If you have money it does not matter whether your father was
a garbage man or the President of the United States; but believe me, you
have to have the money.”
“It has not worked that way so far,” Scott answered defiantly, “and when
it does I guess I’ll know it without being told.”
“And in the meantime you are getting in debt deeper every day and that
with your father’s money.”
“Is that your business?” Scott cried angrily. It had caused him some
compunction to ask his father to increase his allowance when he knew the
poor doctor could ill afford it, and the shot hurt him.
“No,” Johnson sighed, “it’s none of my business, and I knew I should be
unpopular for butting in, but I had to warn you. A man who comes from
Massachusetts to Minnesota on an allowance of forty dollars per month
and takes the amount of work that you are taking to save a year’s
expenses is not in a position to run with a bunch of millionaires and
flunk in all his studies. If you are behind in a single study at the end
of the first eight weeks you’ll have to drop all that extra work, and at
the rate you have been going you will be behind in a good deal more than
one. I’m through now. Think about it before you get too mad,” and he
rose to go to bed.
“I’ve never flunked in a subject yet,” Scott answered haughtily. “I can
take care of my studies by myself and I do not consider that you can
give me many points on my social activities.”
“If that’s the way you feel about it,” Johnson said with quiet dignity,
“you’d better go room with someone your equal. I am neither a
millionaire nor a society leader.”
“It’s too late tonight,” Scott said angrily, “but I’ll get out fast
enough in the morning.”
“Good hunch,” Johnson said with apparent indifference, though it really
cut him deeply. He was not angry. He had foreseen all this before he
spoke at all. He knew it was the best thing for Scott and he was willing
to swallow all these indignities for his sake. He longed to tell Scott
how much he cared for him, but that was out of the question under the
circumstances. He knew that Scott would come to his senses and thank him
some day, but in any event he felt that he had acted the part of a true
friend. He crawled into bed with a deep sigh of regret, nearer to a sob
than he had come for many years.
Scott sat before the table for some time, his chin on his chest, and a
scowl on his face, sullenly flapping the cover of his notebook. He felt
bitter against Johnson, for he knew in his heart that Johnson was right,
and the truth always cuts deeper than anything else. He thought how his
father, already worried over his request for increased allowance, would
grieve if he should fail in any of his studies, and he thought of his
mother’s advice. Already there were some things that he did not care to
write her.
The flapping of the notebook cover fanned a yellow envelope out from
between the leaves. He had taken it out of his post office box and
dropped it in his notebook without reading it. He tore it open idly and
glanced at it. The next instant he was sitting bolt upright reading with
unbelieving eyes the following terse note:
Committee on Students’ Work
11/1/11
Your record for the first six weeks’ work shows that you are
behind in three subjects. Report to this office at once or
your registration will be canceled.
Scott gazed at the paper half dazed. Coming as it did on top of
Johnson’s harangue it brought him to his senses with a sudden jerk. It
was the first time in his life that he had ever fallen short in his
studies, and his hurt pride rose triumphant over his social aspirations.
What Johnson’s loyal advice had failed to do—probably never would have
done—this blow at his student’s reputation did instantly. Johnson had
only aroused him to stubborn anger; this cold-blooded sentence forced
him to think and use his reason.
Where was he going anyway? What did the pleasures and associations which
had loomed so big to him in the past few weeks amount to? Why did those
men seek his company when he knew that they spoke always contemptuously
of other poor men as good as he? His head had been so turned by the
flattery that he had imagined it was on account of his sterling
qualities.
He viewed it through the glass of cold reason now and the truth dawned
on him, burst forth so clearly that he wondered why he had not seen it
before. He remembered how one of the men who disliked dogs had paid five
hundred dollars for the prize winner at the Minneapolis show and he
shivered as he realized the truth. He was the prize dog in the
under-class boxing match. The humiliation of the truth, and he knew now
that it was the truth, angered him beyond reason at first, and then
filled him with disgust at his own weakness.
And how about the responsible companions he had been priding himself on
a short time before? He knew that Johnson had judged them aright and he
knew his father’s judgment would be the same. Moreover, he recognized in
that little yellow envelope the first symptoms of another obstacle that,
unless quickly overcome, would put that magnificent chance at a forest
estate far beyond his reach.
He realized then the true loyalty of Johnson. He knew how it must have
pained Johnson to say what he had said, and how it must have hurt him to
have his friendship misconstrued. What one of those millionaires would
have done as much for him, the prize pup, or would even have thought
twice whether he was disgracing himself or not? He thought how his
admiration for Johnson had been slowly dying under the new influences,
and remorse almost choked him. He strode quickly over to the bed to
apologize, but Johnson slept so peacefully that he did not have the
heart to wake him after the pain he had already caused him.
He took up his notebook resolutely and began to study. At five o’clock
he slipped quietly into bed encouraged by the feeling that he was once
more well prepared for an examination. But sleep did not come at once.
He lay for almost an hour wide awake and wondering how he could ever
have been so foolish as to let a little flattery run away so completely
with his common sense. More especially he longed to apologize to
Johnson. Dear old Johnson whom he had so shamefully neglected for the
past month. Not only had he neglected him, but had actually begun to
look down on him. He saw him in his true proportions again now and
longed to tell him how much he looked up to him. Scott was no cad and he
was anxious to confess to Johnson the extent of his fall. At last he
fell into a restless sleep. Only after an hour of this tossing about did
the sleep become profound.
When Scott finally awoke with a start it was to find Johnson gone. He
had just time to make his examination if he went without breakfast. He
tumbled into his clothes and ran all the way to the recitation hall. He
went at his examination in dendrology with his oldtime certainty, and
repaired straight to the Students’ Work Committee. He found that he was
not by any means alone in his disgrace. The room was crowded, some
contrite, some indifferent, some defiant. Case after case was discussed
in the chairman’s office and disposed of. At last his own turn came. The
chairman looked at him inquiringly.
“Burton,” Scott answered to the implied inquiry and turned red to the
very ears.
The chairman picked a card from the case in front of him, glanced over
it and looked him in the eye searchingly. “Well, Burton, your record
shows that you are behind in dendrology, forest entomology and forest
engineering. What’s the matter?”
Scott blushed violently, but confessed frankly. “I lost my head and
tried to do too much society. I neglected my studies. I think I have
waked up now.”
“A wholesome confession is good for the soul,” the chairman laughed.
“Report to me one week from today and remember, if you are below in a
single study at the end of another six weeks, you’ll probably have to
drop all that extra work and maybe some more besides.”
The chairman rang for the next victim, and Scott blushed his way out
through the crowd. He felt tremendously relieved. He knew that he could
make good in that work and registered a vow that that committee would
never have to call him up again.
This trying ordeal over he hurried back to the room to find Johnson. The
room had a rather desolate look and Scott was wondering what was the
matter with it when he spied a note on the table. He read it half dazed.
Since you did not carry out your promise to move, I moved
myself. I have some self-respect.
Johnson.
It was Johnson’s one great short-coming, lack of tact, and Scott’s
longing for forgiveness turned once more to anger. He was blinded to the
kindness which had prompted Johnson to warn him and forgot the insults
with which he had received it. He could see in it now only an
impertinent interference in his private affairs and railed against
Johnson as a mucker who would not accept an apology even when he did not
deserve it. He forgot that Johnson knew nothing of his change of heart,
and felt bitter against him. All thought of apology had vanished.
He was still in this frame of mind when Greenleaf came into the room.
“Hello, Scotty,” he said, “I met Johnson moving his belongings a while
ago. Said you and he had a falling out. They have sold the house where I
am rooming and are going to turn me out. Do you want a roommate?”
“Sure,” Scott said promptly, “I’ll help you move in now.”
So the door was closed to Johnson’s return. The new arrangement gave
Scott little chance to think it over. Had he thought the matter over
calmly he would probably have sought Johnson out and apologized to him
at any cost to his own pride, but he did not let himself think about it
and harbored his unjust bitterness.
Greenleaf was a different type from Johnson. His father was a well-to-do
lawyer who could very readily have allowed his son ample spending money
and would have done so in the East, but preferred to follow the Western
custom and make the boy earn his pocket money. Consequently Greenleaf,
although blessed with a comfortable—even a luxurious—home had spent most
of his summers working at any kind of a job that he could get. He made a
very congenial roommate, but Scott missed in him the breadth of mind and
keen reasoning powers which he had admired so much in Johnson.