THEOPHILUS' MISSIONARY WORK
"College ties can ne'er be broken--
Loyal will remain each heart;
Though the last farewell be spoken--
And from Bannister we part!
"Bannister, Bannister, hail, all hail!
Echoes softly from each heart;
We'll be ever loyal to thee--
Till we from life shall part!"
Theophilus Opperdyke, the timorous, intensely studious Human Encyclopedia,
stood at the window of John Thorwald's study room. That behemoth, desiring
quiet, had moved his study-table and chair to a vacant room across the
second-floor corridor of Creighton, the Freshman dormitory, when the
Bannister youths cheered him, and he was still there, so that Theophilus,
on his mission, had finally located him by his low rumblings, as he
laboriously read out his Latin. The little Senior was gazing across the
brightly lighted Quadrangle. He could see into the rooms of the other
class dormitories, where the students studied, skylarked, rough-housed,
or conversed on innumerable topics; from a room in Nordyke, the abode of
care-free Juniors, a splendidly blended sextette sang songs of their
Alma Mater, and their rich voices drifted across the Quad. to Thor and
Theophilus:
"Though thy halls we leave forever
Sadly from the campus turn;
Yet our love shall fail thee never
For old Bannister we'll yearn!
Bannister, Bannister, hail, all hail!"
Theophilus turned from the window, and looked despairingly at that young
Colossus, Thor. The behemoth Norwegian, oblivious to everything except the
geometry problem now causing him to sweat, rested his massive head on his
palms, elbows on the study-table, and was lost in the intricate labyrinth
of "Let the line ABC equal the line BVD." The frail chair creaked under his
ponderous bulk. On the table lay an unopened letter that had come in the
night's mail, for, tackling one problem, the bulldog Hercules never let go
his grip until he solved it, and nothing else, not even Theophilus, could
secure his attention. Hence the Human Encyclopedia, trembling at the
terrific importance of the mission entrusted to him, waited, thrilled by
the Juniors' songs, which failed to penetrate Thor's mind.
"Oh, what _can_ I do?" breathed Theophilus, sitting down nervously on the
edge of a chair and peering owlishly over his big-rimmed spectacles at the
stolid John Thorwald. "I am sure that, in time, I can help Thor to--to know
campus life better; but--_tomorrow_ is his last chance! He will be dropped
from the squad, unless--"
As Thor at last leaned back and gazed at his little comrade, just then, to
the tune of "My Old Kentucky Home," an augmented chorus drifted across the
Quadrangle:
"And we'll sing one song
For the college that we love--
For our dear old Bannister--good-by"
To the Bannister students there was something tremendously queer in the
friendship of Theophilus and Thor. That the huge Freshman, of all the
collegians, should have chosen the timorous little boner was most puzzling.
Yet, to T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., a keen reader of human nature, it was
clear; Thorwald thought of nothing but study, Theophilus was a grind,
though he possessed intense college spirit, hence Thor was naturally drawn
to the little Senior by the mutual bond of their interest in books, and
Theophilus, with his hero-worshiping soul, intensely admired the splendid
purpose of John Thorwald, toiling to gain knowledge, because of the promise
of his dying mother. The grind, who thought that next to T. Haviland Hicks,
Jr., Thor was the "greatest ever," as Hicks phrased it, had been, doing
what that care-free collegian termed "missionary work," with the stolid,
unimaginative Prodigious Prodigy for some weeks. Thrilled with the thought
that he worked for his Alma Mater, he quietly strove to make Thorwald
glimpse the true meaning and purpose of college life and its broadness of
development. The loyal Theophilus lost no opportunity of impressing his
behemoth friend with the sacred traditions of the campus, or of explaining
why Thor was wrong in characterizing all else than study as foolishness and
waste of time.
"Thor," began Theophilus timidly yet determinedly, for he was serving old
Bannister now, "old man, do you feel that you are giving the fellows at
Bannister a square deal?"
John Thorwald, slowly tearing open the letter that had come that night,
and had lain, unnoticed, on the study-table while he wrestled with his
geometry, turned suddenly. The Human Encyclopedia's vast earnestness and
the strange query he had fired at Thor, surprised even that stolid mammoth.
"Why, what do you mean, Theophilus?" spoke Thor slowly. "A square deal?
Why, I owe them nothing! I sacrifice my time for them, leaving my studies
to go out and waste precious time foolishly on football. Why--"
"I mean this," Theophilus kept doggedly on, his earnest desire to stir Thor
conquering his natural timidity. "You were brought to old Bannister by
Hicks, who made a great mystery of you, so we knew nothing of you; but the
fellows all thought you were willing to play football. Then, after they
got enthused, and builded hopes of the championship on _you_, came
your quitting. Hicks defended you, Thor, and changed the boys' bitter
condemnation to vast admiration, by telling of your life, your father's
being a castaway, your mother's dying wish, your toil to get learning, and
your inability to grasp college life. Then from gratitude to Mr. Hicks you
started to play again--naturally, the students waxed enthusiastic, when you
ripped the 'Varsity to pieces, but now you may be dropped by the coach,
after tomorrow, because you don't play for old Bannister, and your
indifference kills the team's fighting spirit. You do not care if you are
dropped; it will give you more time to study, and relieve you of your
obligation, as you so quixotically view it, to play because Mr. Hicks will
be glad; but--think of the fellows.
"They, Thor, disappointed in you, their hopes of your bringing by your
massive body and huge strength the Championship to old Bannister shattered,
are still your friends--they of the eleven, I mean especially, for, as yet,
the rest do not know you may be dropped. And the fellows came beneath your
window tonight to cheer you; they will do so, Thor, even if you are dropped
and they know that you will not use that prodigious power for their Alma
Mater in the big games; they will stand by you, for they understand! Just
think, old man; haven't the fellows, despite your rude rebuffs, _tried_
to be your comrades? Haven't they helped you to get settled to work and
assisted you with your studies? Why, you have been a big boor, cold and
aloof, you have upset their hopes of you in football, and yet they have no
condemnation for you, naught but warm friendliness.
"You are not giving them or yourself a square deal, Thor! You won't even
_try_ to understand campus life, to grasp its real purpose, to realize what
tradition is! The time will come, Thor, when you will see your mistake; you
will yearn for their good fellowship, you will learn that getting knowledge
is not all of college life. You will know that this 'silly foolishness' of
singing songs and giving the yell, of rooting for the eleven, of loyalty
and love for one's Alma Mater, is something worth while. And you may find
it out too late. Oh, if you could only understand that it isn't what you
take from old Bannister that makes a man of you, it is what you give to
your college--in athletics, in your studies, in every phase of campus life;
that in toiling and sacrificing for your Alma Mater you grow and develop,
and reap a rich reward!"
Could T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., Butch Brewster, and the Gold and Green eleven
have heard little Theophilus' fervent and eloquent appeal to John Thorwald,
they would have felt like giving three cheers for him. They loved this
pathetic little boner, who, because of his pitifully frail body, could
never fight for old Bannister on gridiron, diamond, or track, and they
tremendously admired him for working for his college and for the redemption
of Thor. Timorous and shrinking by nature, whenever his Alma Mater, or a
friend, needed him the Human Encyclopedia fought down his painful timidity
and came up to scratch nobly.
It was Theophilus whose clear logic had vastly aided T. Haviland Hicks,
Jr., to originate The Big Brotherhood of Bannister, in 1919's Sophomore
year, and quell Roddy Perkins' Freshman Equal Rights campaign. In fact, it
had been the boner's suggestion that gave Hicks his needed inspiration.
And, a Junior, Theophilus had been elected business manager of the
_Bannister Weekly_, with Hicks as editor-in-chief as a colossal joke. The
entire burden of that almost defunct periodical had been thrust on those
two, and, thanks to the grind's intensely humorous "copy," the _Weekly_ had
been revived and rebuilt. And Theophilus, in writing the humorous articles,
had been moved by a great ambition to do something for old Bannister.
"Look at me, Thor!" continued Theophilus Opperdyke, his puny body dwarfed
as he faced the colossal Prodigious Prodigy. "A poor, weak, helpless
nothing! I'd cheerfully sacrifice all the scholastic honor or glory I ever
won, or shall win, just to make a touchdown for the Gold and Green, just to
win a baseball game, or to break the tape in a race for old Bannister!
And you--_you_, with that tremendous body, that massive bulk, that vast
strength--you won't play the game for your Alma Mater, you won't throw
that big frame into the scrimmage, thrilled with a desire to win for your
college! Oh, what wonderful things you _could_ do with your powerful build;
but it means nothing to you, while _I--_ Oh, you don't care, you just won't
awaken; and, unless you do, in tomorrow's game you'll be dropped from the
squad, a disgrace."
John Thorwald-Thor, the Prodigious Prodigy, that Gargantuan Freshman of
whom Bannister said he possessed no soul--stirred uneasily, shifted his
vast tonnage from one foot to the other, and stared at little Theophilus
Opperdyke. That solemn Senior, who had not seen the slightest effect his
"Missionary Work" was having on the stolid Thor, was in despair; but he did
not know the truth. As Hicks had once said, "You don't know nothing what
goes on in Thor's dome. There's a wall of solid concrete around the
machinery of his mind, and you can't see the wheels, belts, and cogs at
work!"
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., with all his keen insight into human nature, had
failed utterly to diagnose Thor's case, had not even stumbled on the true
cause of that young giant's aloofness. The truth was unknown to anyone,
but there was one natural reason for John Thorwald's not mingling with his
fellows of the campus-the blond Colossus was inordinately bashful! From his
fifteenth year, Thor had seen the seamy side of life, had lived, grown and
developed among men. In his wanderings in the Klondike, the wild Northwest,
in Panama, his experiences as cabin-boy, miner, cowboy, lumber-jack, and
Canal Zone worker, he had existed where everything was roughness and
violence, where brawn, not brain, usually held sway, where supremacy was
won, kept, and lost by fists, spiked boots, or guns! In his adventurous
career, young Thorwald had but seldom encountered the finer things of life,
and his nature, while wholesome, was sturdy and virile, not likely to be
stirred by sentiment; so that now, among the good-natured, friendly boys of
old Bannister, he, accustomed to rude surroundings and rough acquaintances,
was bashful.
And Theophilus, as well as T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., shot far wide of the
mark in believing that the big Hercules had no power to feel; he possessed
that power, but, with it the ability to conceal his feelings. They thought
nothing appealed to him, had stirred his soul, at college, but they were
wrong; true, Thor was unable to understand this new, strange life; he was
puzzled when the collegians condemned and ostracized him at first, when
he quit football because it was not a Faculty rule to play, but he was
grateful when Hicks defended him, and the admiration of the student-body
was welcome to him. He had thought he was doing all they desired of him,
when he went back to the game, and now--when Theophilus told him that he
might be dropped from the squad, he was bewildered. He could not understand
just why this could be, when he was reporting for scrimmage every day!
But the friendliness of the youths, their kind help with his studies,
the assistance of the genial Hicks, and, more than all, above even
the admiration of the Freshmen for his promise and purpose, the daily
missionary work of little Theophilus, for whom the massive Thor felt a real
love, had been slowly, insidiously undermining John Thorwald's reserve. No
longer did he condemn what he did not understand. At times he had a vague
feeling that all was not right, that, after all, he was missing something,
that study was not all; and yet, bashful as he was, fearing to appear
rough, crude, and uncouth among these skylarking youths, Thor kept on his
silent, lonely way, and they thought him untouched by their overtures. Of
late, when unobserved, the big Freshman had stood by the window, watching
the collegians on the campus, listening to their songs of old Bannister,
and yet because he felt embarrassed when with them, he gave no sign that he
cared.
Now, however, the splendid appeal of loyal, timorous Theophilus stirred
Thor, and yet he could not break down the wall of reserve he had builded
around himself. He had deluded himself that this comradeship was not for
him, that he could never mingle with these happy-go-lucky youths, that
he must plod straight ahead, and live to himself, because his past had
roughened him.
"You are a Freshman!" spoke Theophilus, unaware that forces were at work on
Thor, and making a last effort. "You stand on the very threshold of your
campus years; everything is before you. I am at the journey's end--very
nearly, for in June I graduate from old Bannister. I never had the chance
to fight for my Alma Mater on the athletic field, and you--Oh, think of
what you can do! About to leave the campus, I, and my class-mates, realize
how dear our college has become to us. If _you_ could just know that
Bannister means something to you, even now, if you only felt it, you
could make your years mean great things to you. Thor, could you leave old
Bannister tomorrow without regret, without one sigh for the dear old place?
We, who soon shall leave it forever, fully understand Shakespeare, when in
a sonnet he wrote:
"This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong--
To love that well which thou must leave ere long!"
There was a silence, and then Thor slowly drew out a letter from its
envelope, scanning the scrawl across its pages. A few moments, while its
meaning seemed to seep into his slow-acting mind, and then a look of
helpless bewilderment, as though the stolid Freshman just could not
understand at all, came to his face; a minute John Thorwald stood, as in a
trance, staring dully at the letter.
"Thor! Thor! What's the matter? What's wrong?" quavered the alarmed
Theophilus, "Have you gotten bad news?"
"Read it, read it," said the big Freshman lifelessly, extending the letter
to the startled Senior. "It's all over, I suppose, and I've got to go to
work again. I've got to leave college, and toil once more, and save. My
promise to my mother can't be fulfilled--yet. And just as I was getting
fairly started."
Theophilus Opperdyke hurriedly perused the message, which had come to Thor
in that night's mail but which the blond giant had let lie unnoticed while
he tackled his geometry. With difficulty Theophilus deciphered the scrawl
on an official letterhead:
THE NEW YORK-CHRISTIANA STEAMSHIP LINE
(New York Offices)
Nov. 4, 19--.
DEAR SON:
I am writing to tell you that I've run into a sort of hurricane, and you
and I have got a hard blow to weather. I started you at college on the
$5,000 received from the heirs of Henry B. Kingsley, on whose yacht, as
you know, I was wrecked in the South Seas, and marooned for ten years. I
figured on giving you an education with that sum, eked out by my wages, and
what you earn in vacations.
I had the $5,000, untouched, in a New York bank, and I wanted to take it
over to Christiania; when I was about to sail on my last voyage, I drew out
the sum, and put it in care of the Purser of the _Norwhal_, on which I
was mate, intending, of course, to get it on docking, and deposit it in
Christiania. At the last hour I was transferred to the _Valkyrie_, to sail
a few days later, and I knew the _Norwhal's_ purser would leave the $5,000
for me in the Company's Christiania offices, so I did not bother to
transfer it to the _Valkyrie_.
Perhaps you read in the newspapers that the _Norwhal_ struck a floating
mine, and went down with a heavy loss of life. The Purser was among those
lost, and none of the ship's papers were saved; my $5,000, of course, went
down also.
I am sorry, John, but there seems nothing to do but for you to leave
college and work. For your mother's sake, I wish we could avoid it; but we
must wait and work and tackle it again. Your first term expenses are paid,
so stay until the term is out. Perhaps Mr. Hicks can give you a job in one
of his steel mills again, but we must work our own way, son. Don't lose
courage, we'll fight this out together with the memory of your promise to
your dying mother to spur you on. The road may be long and rocky but we'll
make it. Just work and save, and in a year or two you can start at college
again. You can study at night, too, and keep on learning.
I'll write later. Stay at college till the term is up, and in the meantime
try to land a job. However, you won't have any trouble to do that. Keep
your nerve, boy, for your mother's sake. It's a hard blow, but we'll
weather it, never fear, and reach port.
Your father,
JOHN THORWALD, SR.
P.S. I am sailing on the _Valkyrie_ today, will write you on my return to
New York, in a few weeks.
Theophilus looked at the massive young Norwegian, who had taken this
solar-plexus blow with that same stolid apathy that characterized his every
action. He wanted to offer sympathy, but he knew not how to reach Thor. He
fully understood how terrific the blow was, how it must stagger the
big, earnest Freshman, just as he, after ten years of grinding toil, of
sacrifice, of grim, unrelenting determination, had conquered obstacles and
fought to where he had a clear track ahead. Just as it seemed that fate had
given him a fair chance, with his father rescued and five thousand dollars
to give him a college course, this terrible misfortune had befallen him.
Theophilus realized what it must mean to this huge, silent Hercules, just
making good his promise to his dying mother, to give up his studies, and go
back to work, toil, labor, to begin all over again, to put off his college
years.
"Leave me, please," said Thor dully, apparently as unmoved by the blow
as he had been by Theophilus' appeal. "I--I would like to be alone, for
awhile."
Left alone, John Thorwald stood by the window, apparently not thinking of
anything in particular, as he gazed across the brightly lighted Quad. The
huge Freshman seemed in a daze--utterly unable to comprehend the disaster
that had befallen him; he was as stolid and impassive as ever, and
Theophilus might have thought that he did not care, even at having to give
up his college course, had not the Senior known better.
Across the Quadrangle, from the room of the Caruso-like Juniors,
accompanied by a melodious banjo-twanging, drifted:
"Though thy halls we leave forever
Sadly from the campus turn;
Yet our love shall fail thee never
For old Bannister we'll yearn!
"'Bannister, Bannister, hail, all hail!'
Echoes softly from each heart;
We'll be ever loyal to thee
Till we from life shall part."
Strangely enough, the behemoth Thorwald was not thinking so much of having
to give up his studies, of having to lay aside his books and take up again
the implements of toil. He was not pondering on the cruelty of fate in
making him abandon, at least temporarily, his goal; instead, his thoughts
turned, somehow, to his experiences at old Bannister, to the football
scrimmages, the noisy sessions in "Delmonico's Annex," the college
dining-hall, to the skylarking he had often watched in the dormitories. He
thought, too, of the happy, care-free youths, remembering Hicks, good Butch
Brewster, loyal little Theophilus; and as he reflected, he heard those
Juniors, over the way, singing. Just now they were chanting that
exquisitely beautiful Hawaiian melody, "Aloha Oe," or "Farewell to Thee,"
making the words tell of parting from their Alma Mater. There was something
in the refrain that seemed to break down Thor's wall of reserve, to melt
away his aloofness, and he caught himself listening eagerly as they sang.
Somehow he felt no desire to condemn those care-free youths, to call their
singing silly foolishness, to say they were wasting their time and their
fathers' money. Queer, but he actually liked to hear them sing, he realized
he had come to listen for their saengerfests. Now that he had to leave
college, for the first time he began to ponder on what he must leave. Not
alone books and study, but--
As he stood there, an ache in his throat, and an awful sorrow overwhelming
him, with the richly blended voices of the happy Juniors drifting across to
him, chanting a song of old Ballard, big Thor murmured softly:
"What did little Theophilus say? What was it Shakespeare wrote? Oh, I have
it:
"'This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong--
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.'"