Winning His "W" Part 26

In his Greek that day Will failed miserably and completely, and his anger at Splinter was intensified when the professor near the close of the recitation said:

"It is quite needless, I fawncy, for me to emphasize, young gentlemen, the necessity there is at the present time for you all to adopt the utmost care in all matters pertaining especially to your health. I refer to you individually as well as collectively. My advice to you is to use only mineral water--I refer obviously to the water you drink--and it might be well to avoid the undue use of milk--"

A shout of laughter interrupted the professor which caused his face to flush with anger and he arose abruptly from his seat, the signal that the cla.s.s was dismissed.

As Will, who was among the last to pa.s.s out, came near the desk the professor said to him, "Mr. Phelps, I should be pleased if you would remain for a brief time. I should like exceedingly to have a word with you."

Accordingly, Will stood by the desk till all the cla.s.s had pa.s.sed out, and then the professor said, "Ah, Mr. Phelps, would you kindly inform me what your opinion is as to the cause of the students receiving my remarks a few minutes ago with such an outburst of laughter? I a.s.sure you I had not the least intention to say anything that should even appear to be liable to excite the mirth of the young gentlemen. I do not know that I was ever more serious in my entire life."

"I think, professor, it was your reference to milk."

"Why should I not refer to it? In times of fear, when typhoid fever is--is--ah, at least somewhat feared, it is wise to be extremely cautious, and I have it on the authority of men of the highest reputation that milk is a medium through which the germs of the disease transmit themselves most readily."

"Yes, but you know, professor, the college is supposed to think the freshmen feed on milk. That's supposed to be their diet."

"Ah, yes," replied the professor, smiling in a manner that proclaimed his entire inability to perceive the point. "That must be the point of the joke. Ah, yes. I see it distinctly now. It is very good! It is very good, indeed!"

"Professor, can you tell me my marks? How am I doing in my Greek lately?"

"I am not supposed to reply to such a question from any of the young gentlemen, but I fawncy in a general way I may be able to respond to your query. Ah, yes," he added, glancing at the page in the little book before him wherein Will's record was contained, "there is an improvement, not great, it is true, but still an improvement; and if your work continues it will bring you almost up to the mark required."

"Almost?" exclaimed Will aghast. "You don't mean to say, do you, Mr.

Splinter--"

"Mr. _who?_" demanded the professor, instantly rising and his face flushing again with anger.

CHAPTER XIX

A RARE INTERVIEW

Instantly Will Phelps was overwhelmed with confusion. His face flushed crimson and his knees shook under the excitement which quickly seized upon him. The opprobrious t.i.tle by which the Greek professor was known among the students and by which he was commonly spoken of by them had slipped from his tongue almost unconsciously. He stood staring stupidly into the professor's face, while visions of expulsion and future difficulty flashed into his troubled mind.

"I beg your pardon, professor," he managed to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e at last. "I did not mean to say that. The word slipped out before I knew it. I am very sorry for it, for I certainly did not intend to be disrespectful in any way."

"You insulted me!" exclaimed the professor in a rage that under other circ.u.mstances would have seemed almost ludicrous to Will. It was like the anger of an infuriated canary bird or of some little child.

"Then I want to apologize," said Will quietly. "As I said, I certainly did not intend to do anything of the kind."

"But you did," persisted the outraged teacher. "You most a.s.suredly did."

"Can't you believe me when I say it was not intentional?"

"That does not excuse it, but I fawncy the tendency among the young gentlemen of the college is to bestow appellations upon the various members of the faculty that are not warranted."

"I have heard some of them spoken of in that way, but I don't think the fellows meant either to be disrespectful or unkind," said Will eagerly.

"No, I fawncy it may in part be due to the thoughtlessness of youth and I would not be unduly harsh with you after your ample apology. Then you have been accustomed to hear me myself referred to as Splinter, have you?"

"I--yes--that is--" stammered Will.

"Precisely. Now what in your opinion is the basis upon which the students have added such a derisive epithet to my name?"

Will was silent, though in spite of his efforts the expression of his face betrayed somewhat the feeling of blank amazement which possessed him.

"I fawncy I can trace its derivation," said the professor simply.

"Doubtless when I first became a member of the faculty the appellation, or, let me see, is it an appellation or a cognomen, as you commonly have heard it?"

"Yes, sir," Will managed to respond.

"It is, then, as I fawncied, and doubtless was bestowed upon me as indicative of my lack of avoirdupois. And it was not entirely unnatural that they should do so, for at the time when I came to Winthrop I was very slight, very slight indeed. The appellation, or cognomen, was without doubt given in recognition of that fact, a custom not unknown, among the cla.s.sical nations and one prevalent among the Hebrews and even among the Indians of America. The history of names would provide an exceedingly interesting field of study for you, Mr. Phelps."

Will bowed but did not speak, for he was afraid to interrupt or to divert the childlike man from the channel in which his thoughts appeared to be running.

"Such a name once given," resumed the professor, "would doubtless cling to one long after physical changes had been made that would no longer afford an accurate basis for the nomenclature. But I was very slight, very slight indeed, Mr. Phelps, when I first came here some seventeen years ago, or, to be exact, seventeen years and four months, that is, four months lacking a few days. Why, I believe I weighed only one hundred and seventeen pounds at the time."

Will strove to be duly impressed by the fact, but as he looked at the man who was somewhat above six feet in height and whose body did not give many tokens of having increased materially in breadth or thickness since the time to which the professor referred, he found it extremely difficult to repress the smile that rose to his lips.

"Yes," resumed the professor quickly, "I have increased in weight since that time but the appellation still clings and doubtless will as long as I remain in Winthrop."

"How much do you weigh now, professor?" The moment Will asked the question he regretted it, but the temptation was too strong to be resisted.

"I cannot say exactly," said the professor in some confusion, "but my weight has very materially increased. If I recall aright, the last time when I was weighed I had added two and three-quarters pounds. It is true it was in the winter and doubtless heavier clothing may have slightly modified the result. But still I can safely affirm that I am much heavier than I was at the time when I joined the Winthrop faculty."

"Do you find that you feel better now that you are more corpulent? I have heard it said that addition to the body is subtraction from the brain. Do you think that is so, professor?"

"It is true, most a.s.suredly. All cla.s.sifical literature confirms the statement you have just made."

"Then you don't believe in athletics, do you, professor?"

"a.s.suredly not. Most a.s.suredly not."

"But didn't the ancient Greeks have their racecourses? Didn't they believe in running and jumping and boxing and I don't know what all?"

"That is true, but the times were very different then. They had not in the least lost the sense of the poetry of life. They were not so cra.s.sly or grossly materialistic as the present age undoubtedly is. Every grove was peopled with divinities, every mountain was the abode of the unseen.

Why, Mr. Phelps, the Greeks were the only people that ever lived that looked upon mountains as anything but blots or defects."

"Is that so?" inquired Will in surprise.

"It certainly is. It is true that since the days of the poet Gray there has been a tendency among English-speaking people to affect a veneration for the mountains, but it is, I fawncy, only a faint echo of the old Greek conception and is a purely superficial product of an extremely superficial age and people."

"Didn't the Hebrews have a feeling like the one you tell of? Isn't there a psalm that begins 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help'? Didn't they describe the high hills that were round about Jerusalem?"

"Ah, yes. That is true," a.s.sented the professor in some confusion. "I had not thought of it in that light precisely. You have given me a new insight to-day, Mr. Phelps. I shall at once go over my data again. I am grateful to you for acceding to my request to remain to-day."