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squad; it pleased him when Doctor Dougall told him at the end of a
heated conference that he could, if he wished, get the best marks in
school. But Doctor Dougall was wrong. It was temperamentally impossible
for Amory to get the best marks in school.
Miserable, confined to bounds, unpopular with both faculty and
students--that was Amory's first term. But at Christmas he had returned
to Minneapolis, tight-lipped and strangely jubilant.
"Oh, I was sort of fresh at first," he told Frog Parker patronizingly,
"but I got along fine--lightest man on the squad. You ought to go away
to school, Froggy. It's great stuff."
INCIDENT OF THE WELL-MEANING PROFESSOR
On the last night of his first term, Mr. Margotson, the senior master,
sent word to study hall that Amory was to come to his room at nine.
Amory suspected that advice was forthcoming, but he determined to be
courteous, because this Mr. Margotson had been kindly disposed toward
His summoner received him gravely, and motioned him to a chair. He
hemmed several times and looked consciously kind, as a man will when he
knows he's on delicate ground.
"Amory," he began. "I've sent for you on a personal matter."
"I've noticed you this year and I--I like you. I think you have in you
the makings of a--a very good man."
"Yes, sir," Amory managed to articulate. He hated having people talk as
if he were an admitted failure.
"But I've noticed," continued the older man blindly, "that you're not
very popular with the boys."
"No, sir." Amory licked his lips.
"Ah--I thought you might not understand exactly what it
was they--ah--objected to. I'm going to tell you, because I
believe--ah--that when a boy knows his difficulties he's better able to
cope with them--to conform to what others expect of him." He a-hemmed
again with delicate reticence, and continued: "They seem to think that
you're--ah--rather too fresh--"
Amory could stand no more. He rose from his chair, scarcely controlling
his voice when he spoke.
"I know--oh, _don't_ you s'pose I know." His voice rose. "I know what
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