PAUL DOUGLAS was trying to think of his own boyhood and his temptations
as he faced his own son on that memorable afternoon. His anger at the
boy had almost subsided. The feeling that remained was a feeling of
grief and fear mingled at the anticipation of a failure on Walter's part
to realise the grave nature of the crisis through which he was passing.
"I've been thinking over all this, Walter," Paul began slowly, "and I am
willing you should remain here on certain conditions."
"Oh, father, I'll do anything," Walter began impulsively.
"Let me state them," his father went on gravely. "They may seem hard to
you. But I'm older than you and have a right to expect obedience if the
terms are just.
"In the first place I shall expect you to earn the amount you have
incurred with your gambling and repay me. Is that fair?"
"Yes," Walter spoke, wincing at his father's use of the word. "I wish
you would not say 'gambling' father. It was a friendly wager. It is the
regular college custom."
"I do not care what you call it or what the custom is here," said Paul,
his anger beginning to flame up. "The wager, the custom, the whatever
you call it, is gambling. It is gambling as much as any custom at Monte
Carlo or any of the gambling halls of Europe. The principle is the same
always; it is the desire and the hope of getting something for nothing,
a thing totally contrary to every divine law of life. Don't you see it,
Walter? Do you think I would be so much disturbed about the matter if it
were of little account?"
"No, I suppose not."
Paul looked at the boy with growing earnestness. It was not reassuring
to consider the possibility of his boy growing up with blunted ideals,
with feeble convictions and a faint sense of the eternal difference
between sharp cut right and wrong. The most sorrowful experience in Paul
Douglas's life might be coming to him at this time if he should find his
own son lacking in the real essentials of moral earnestness.
"Then," he went on, "another condition of your remaining here is that
you promise me never to bet on anything again."
Walter interrupted eagerly, "You don't need to worry over that. I've
learned my lesson. You don't think I feel especially drawn towards that
sort of thing, do you?"
"I hope not," said Paul with a feeling of relief. There was a pause.
Then Paul said as he picked up Esther's letter, "You will write mother.
I'll leave it to you to tell her what you think you ought. But she is
building great castles on your estate, my boy. Don't disappoint her,
will you?"
"No, father, I won't," Walter replied in a low voice. There was another
pause and then Paul said cheerfully, "I must go back on the night train.
It's only fair to you to say that President Davis paid you a fine
compliment speaking of your rank in the engineering department. We all
expect great things of you in that line." Walter coloured with pleasure
at the statement.
"They've got a great equipment here, father. That was the first reason I
felt awfully bad to leave. I don't believe there is another school like
Burrton for electrical engineering."
Paul rose to go and Walter went with him down to the station. Paul's
parting word was affectionate and hopeful.
"Do your best, boy, and don't forget to pray."
Walter remembered that brief but serious appeal a long time. His father
had not often talked religious matters with him. At the same time Walter
had grown up with a strong impression of his father's own religious
character and without much having been said he had always had the
deepest respect for his father's splendid Christian character. That same
evening he wrote home to his mother. Under the influence of his father's
treatment of his conduct he made a full and frank confession of his
actions but at one point he could not help saying, "I told father I did
not feel as if the bet was such an awful thing on account of it being a
regular custom here at Burrton. You know I've written before about the
Standard being different. But father was all upset by it. Mother, I
don't think I have any temptation to gamble as a regular thing, and I
have promised never to bet again, but you know I like nice things and I
wanted the money so I wouldn't have to bone quite so hard. Father is
good to me to let me stay on. I don't know what I would have done if he
had taken me out. There is no other school quite up to this for
equipment and I'm not fit for anything else. I'm working on a new lamp
for city street lighting. We are allowed so many hours a week for
original study and research. I can't describe my work and you would not
understand it if I did. But my problem is to find a way of making an
electric arc light which will go without an expensive mechanism and be
self-regulating without machinery. There is a German student in my class
by the name of Felix Bauer who is working at the same problem. Bauer is
a good friend of mine and we have our laboratory tables in the same
number. Now, mother, you won't think I am altogether depraved, will you?
I am planning to stick close to work from now on. I don't want to
disappoint you and father and I don't believe I shall. But you will
remember, won't you, that the Standard here is different from the one at
home in many ways. For example, mother, most of the fellows talk very
freely and even coarsely about girls, and a good many of the rich set
have pictures of actresses in their rooms and tell stories about them
that I can't repeat. All that disgusts me and I have never heard anyone
utter any protest in a crowd where the stories are going around. You see
the Standard is different here. And I told father of a number of other
customs that are different from those we are used to at home. There is a
different atmosphere about everything. I can't describe it exactly, but
I can feel the difference. I don't believe there is very much of what we
know at home as 'spiritual life.' There are some fine fellows here and
some high ambitions, but the chapel service is all voluntary, and only a
handful of fellows ever go unless some big gun comes to give a chapel
talk, and then the president allows only fifteen minutes for the whole
service.
"What you wrote about Helen having a beau was funny. I can't imagine
what Helen will do when the callers begin to come. Well, mother, I want
you to think of me as too busy with my work to get into any more
trouble. I am awfully interested, especially in the original problem--I
believe I almost stumbled on the making of a successful arc light,
without a regulating mechanism, a few days ago. I have been dreaming
over it ever since and I am quite confident it can be done. Felix Bauer
said the other day he thought he had it all right, but the plan escaped
him. It's exciting, mother, to keep trying different combinations, not
knowing any minute when you may hit on a new discovery. I hope Louis is
behaving himself in his studies. I am sending him by mail a time switch
that he asked me about.
"Much love to all. Your affectionate son
"WALTER."
Esther read this letter over carefully twice, and then, as her habit
was, answered it almost immediately. It was a part of her training of
her children that she had frankly taken them into her confidence when
they were little and had had the wisdom and courage to discuss with them
the questions that were really vital to their bodies and minds. There
was one reason Walter wrote as frankly to his mother as he did about
everything, knowing she would understand exactly. And that was the
reason his mother in her turn could write as she did in reply, entering
fully into the boy's real life.
She did not take much time to reproach him for the betting incident,
believing that Paul had emphasised that quite strongly, but she did
express the hope that her son would not be afraid to be independent of
surroundings and stand on his own feet and have his own convictions, and
then she went on to say: "One of the hardest things you will have to do
all your life is to be independent. This will take more courage often
than for a woman to be out of fashion. But there isn't a finer thing in
all the world than an independent soul, one that knows the right and
does it even if the whole world around is doing exactly the other thing.
If the coarse stories you mention are told in your presence you don't
have to join in the laugh over them. There is a number of ways in which
you can clearly make those fellows understand your attitude in that
matter and of course you have the right and privilege of guarding
yourself from any talk of that sort in your own room. Your room is your
castle. Guard it from impurity. I feel as if almost any kind of wrong
could be excused in a young man who has the virtue of a pure heart and
maintains constant respect for womankind. But, if I ever gave you any
advice about the choice of a friend, I think I should be quite safe in
saying to you, be very slow to accept into the sacred place of your
friendship any young man who talks with impure lips of womanhood. Such a
man is a blight on all he touches.
"I trust you, Walter, to make the most of your opportunities and make us
all proud of you. Success to the arc lamp. Write us the minute you
succeed. Tell me more about the German schoolmate. We are interested in
him and somehow I feel from the little you have told us of him that he
is a fine young fellow.
"Helen is very dignified about her callers. There is nothing more to
tell about her."
"All send love, most of all, mother."
When Paul reached home he told Esther somewhat in detail the incidents
of the boat race and his interview with the president. He was hopeful
for Walter and believed the boy had learned his lesson and would not
fail at that point again. But he could not understand the particular
"streak," as he called it, in Walter's make up, which seemed to demand
expensive and needless luxuries.
"The boy had bought a very elaborate dresser. It was quartered oak and
had a number of patent arrangements about it that made it unusually
expensive. Walter confessed it cost him forty-seven dollars. This was
one of the things he went in debt for. It seems he had become enamoured
of just such a dresser in one of the rooms he had been caring for, a
suite belonging to Van Shaw, the son of the steel magnate at Allworth.
Of course, we want our son to go through school with all the comforts
around him necessary for his proper culture and education. But I cannot
see for the life of me how a forty-seven dollar quartered oak dresser is
going to make any more of a man of him, especially when he goes in debt
for it. I told him so and to my disappointment he took what I said
rather badly. That is, he flared up some and seemed hurt at my criticism
of his luxurious habits. But it isn't the luxurious tastes I object to
so much as the reckless and inexcusable act of going in debt for such a
thing; that is perfectly inexcusable. Where did Walter get his tastes,
do you suppose?"
"Oh, dear, I don't know," said Esther with a sigh. "You know Louis used
to have just a streak in him. Perhaps some of my ancestors on father's
side were French aristocrats before the revolution. You know the Darcys
had estates in southern France in the sixteenth century. I don't believe
any more than you do, Paul, that a forty-seven dollar dresser is at all
necessary to Walter's education. He will have to learn better ways. We
must not forget his splendid good qualities in other directions. He has
a great many. I can't believe he is going to disappoint us."
"No, I can't believe that," said Paul gravely. "But the boy has much to
learn and I hope he will learn it without unnecessary suffering."
It was this same week, two days after the receipt of his mother's
letter, that Walter had an unusual and rather dramatic opportunity to
act on his mother's advice, in the matter of asserting his rights about
the kind of conversation he would permit in his own room.
Walter had very little acquaintance with Van Shaw and the rich men's
sons' set at Burrton. But incidentally it had come out during his chance
meeting with Van Shaw that Walter's mother was a Darcy. The Darcys were
at the time immensely influential at Allworth, Van Shaw's home. The fact
that Walter was doing manual labor at Burrton did not affect his social
standing very seriously, as at the time, there had not come into Burrton
the social stigma against a student working his way through which had
already come into several state universities and technical schools in
this country. Besides, there was in all of Walter's make up that
indefinable stamp of high breeding and refinement, helped on by an
unusually attractive and handsome bearing, which made him look
distinguished in any group of young men. When he had put on his best
suit before the forty-seven dollar dresser and come out on the rare
occasions when he could spare time for some function, he was in many
ways the most elegant person in all the company.
Van Shaw had gradually taken a peculiar attitude toward Walter, partly
of recognition of his family and its antecedents and partly of
patronage, as if he took for granted Walter would welcome his
attentions. As a matter of fact, Walter resented Van Shaw's bearing
toward him, but in his weakness and his leaning toward the upper society
he envied, Walter endured what otherwise he would have been ashamed to
acknowledge. On two occasions it had been a relief to Walter to be of
help to Van Shaw in the electrical rooms. And on the particular occasion
we are now to describe Van Shaw had come into Walter's room one evening
to ask him about a point in connection with some original work which had
to do with the winding of a single phase alternator.
While they were talking over the problem and Walter was trying to make
Van Shaw see how important it was to take account of the position
induced in the several turns and the fact of the reaction of the
armature current, half a dozen other fellows dropped in. Walter was
quite popular and not infrequently eight or ten students might be found
in his rooms, as on this occasion.
Van Shaw was soon in possession of all Walter's knowledge on the
subject, for he was bright enough mentally, and he carelessly sauntered
over to the dresser and made a comment on it. Then he noticed a picture
of Helen Douglas, a new one which Helen had sent Walter within the last
few days.
"Sister, isn't she?" asked Van Shaw.
Walter nodded.
"Mighty handsome girl. Hope she'll visit you some time," said Van Shaw,
as he picked up the photograph and started to pass it around among the
other fellows.
There was something so offensive in the tone and manner of Van Shaw that
Walter, who was standing near him, intercepted the picture before anyone
in the room could take it. He put it back into its place without a word.
Van Shaw laughed.
"Say, maybe she isn't your sister, either. That makes me think," and
before Walter could realise what he was doing, Van Shaw had begun a
questionable story, while the group in the room sat and lounged around
with looks of anticipated amusement.
Walter Douglas will never forget that scene and his part in it if he
lives a hundred years. Van Shaw was leaning up against the dresser, in a
vain way mindful of the impression he was about to make, when Walter
interrupted him. Walter was very pale and what he said came from lips
that trembled with a mingling of anger, and fear of the result.
"Wait! I would rather you would not tell that story in my room."
Van Shaw could not have been more astonished if Walter had pointed a gun
at him. The rest of the company simply stared in the most profound
silence at Walter. Ten or fifteen seconds ticked away. Then Van Shaw,
who had turned very red in the face, said, slowly: "I don't know as you
have anything to say about this. I don't intend to let a good story go
untold."
"You don't tell it here in my room."
"I don't? Who will prevent it?"
"I will."
Van Shaw turned a little toward Walter. Douglas was smaller, shorter,
and of lighter build in every way than himself. But he was in the real
point of vantage, in his own room. The other students did not seem
disposed to take any sides in the matter. But one of them said: "Oh, cut
it out, Van, if Douglas doesn't like it. A fellow has a right to say
what he wants in his own room. It's only a matter of taste anyhow."
Van Shaw looked at Walter savagely. Then he sauntered across the room.
"Come out in the hall, fellows, and I'll finish there. This air is too
pious for my health."
Some of the boys laughed, and three or four fellows followed Van Shaw
out. The rest stayed. When the door shut on Van Shaw, one of the older
students, who had been silent throughout, walked up to Walter and shook
hands with him. Then the rest of the group followed. Not a word was said
by anyone. These youths, some of them already hardened by dissipation,
had at least the native good sense not to mar the occasion by any silly
attempt at words. They simply shook Walter's hand and went out. And when
the last one was gone, Walter turned the key in his door and went into
his bedroom adjoining, and flung himself down on the bed and cried.
I don't know that he could have given any real reason for his emotion.
But he was somewhat unstrung by the event. And a number of tumultuous
feelings were stirring deeply in him. He turned hot and cold at the
thought of his own possible cowardice. And then he felt a reaction of
shame in the thought that after this, Van Shaw and all his set would cut
him dead. He was ashamed to feel, even after all he had done, that he
still shrank from the possibility of social scorn, even from a set of
men who had no more moral standing than Van Shaw had.
But, on the whole, having stood by his rights as he had, and having the
pleasant consciousness of being true to his own principles, he was
disposed to feel a glow of commendation, and later in the evening as
Helen's splendid picture looked at him almost as if she was present,
Walter said to himself: "I'm glad I spoke out. I'm glad."
And then, because he had been brought up from a small boy to confide in
his mother, he found great relief for his feelings that same night in
writing to her. He mentioned no names, simply said that curiously soon
after his mother had written as she did about guarding his own room from
evil talk he had had an opportunity to do it. He did not dwell upon the
matter at all, and did not take any special credit to himself for his
action, but simply reminded his mother again of the difference in
standards and conduct. He expressed gratitude that some of the fellows
had at least silently stood by him. And he ended his letter by saying
that he was almost on the edge of discovery of the arc light, although
it still eluded him.
For the next two weeks Walter was completely absorbed in his studies.
Every spare hour he could get he pored and worked over his original
problem. There were points about it which perplexed and exasperated him.
Felix Bauer was as hard at work on the same problem as himself, and said
one evening with a good-natured laugh that he believed he had mastered
it. "All I lack is that one thing necessary what we call the
'Beduerfniss' the '_einege gewolite_,'" said Bauer, as he took off his
shop cap and thoughtfully ran a lead pencil back and forth through the
short curly hair over his ear.
"That's all I lack," said Walter. "If I could get your '_einege
gewolite,_' I would have my answer."
"Hope you will get it," said Bauer, pleasantly, as he closed up his
locker and went out to meet another class period.
After he had gone, Walter worked on until he was the only person left in
the workroom. He had the entire afternoon and evening, as it happened,
and was so absorbed in his experiments that he was hardly aware of his
being alone until he looked up and saw that the big room was empty, and
that it was dusk. Without any thought of supper he turned on the light
over his table and made some mathematical calculations. Then he ran out
of paper and looked about over the litter of stuff in front of him for
another piece, but not finding any, glanced naturally over to Bauer's
table, which was next his own.
There was a folded bit of paper there, and Walter reached out for it,
took it, and opened it up. It was covered on one side with some drawings
and diagrams, and as Walter looked at them, not paying much attention at
first, as he worked a high power formula over in his head, a little at a
time it dawned on him as he continued to stare at Bauer's drawings, that
without having realised it himself, perhaps, Bauer had actually
suggested in his own drawing the key to the arc light Walter had been
puzzling over for several months without success.
"Yes! yes!" Walter was saying, excitedly, to himself. "I see it! I see
it! What a dummy I was. The electrodes can be fitted with teeth at equal
distances. Let the tooth rest on the porcelain plate. It will gradually
soften and melt under the heat of the arc. Then--then. I see! I see--the
electrode will, or it ought to, drop down of its own weight upon the
next tooth. Then that will melt and the electrode will drop again. The
two electrodes can be coupled together with a scissors coupling, so the
teeth will have to be made in only one of them. I see the whole thing!
Hurrah!" He said the last word out loud. The echo of it in the big,
empty shop startled him. The glow of the discoverer, of the inventor,
was on him and within him. Then he received a distinct reaction. That
was Bauer's paper, not his! He had left it out of the locker when he
went away! It was Bauer's discovery, not his, even if Bauer did not yet
realise the real value and meaning of his diagram. He was on the road to
the discovery.
Walter stared at the paper again and wished he had never seen it. For he
was face to face with a real temptation, one of the hardest and most
alluring his young manhood had ever confronted, and he was afraid, as he
continued to stare at the diagram made by Felix Bauer.