“Yes, sir,” said Lester quietly and turned away with the theme. The other fellows waiting at the desk looked at him with interest.
In the corridor of the building David was awaiting him. Lester put the theme into his hands. “There’s your theme, Dave. You can see what I did to it.”
David glanced at the outside sheet, which bore Lester’s name. He said nothing until after they had descended the steps of the building. Then his voice was not unsympathetic as he asked, “How did it happen, Lester?”
“I wasn’t able to write the theme because I was studying for the examinations in the other courses. Then when they were all over, the last night before the theme was due, I was pretty much all in. I couldn’t write; I couldn’t think of anything to write about. Then I decided to go down to your room and see whether you could help me with a subject. You were out, but I saw your theme on your desk, and I sat down and read it. Then the thought just came to me that with your record it wouldn’t matter much if you missed that theme, and that if I could hand it in as mine, it would save me from probation and all that sort of thing. I thought I’d try again in the morning to do the work myself, but if I couldn’t I might use your work. So I took the theme and the rough draft to my room and put them into my desk. Then I went to bed, and I slept until after nine the next morning. That gave me too little time to do the writing in, though I did try; I even went without breakfast, trying. And it wasn’t till just a little while before you came and told Richard and me about losing the theme that I’d copied off the last page and written my name on the back and destroyed the first draft.”
“It’s too bad,” murmured David. He had been walking with his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him; he did not want to embarrass his friend with his gaze. “I wish I’d never found it out. Come up to my room, Lester, where we can talk.”
They ascended the stairs of the dormitory in silence. David threw open the door of his room, and Lester entered. Then David closed and locked the door. “Sit down, old man.” He looked at Lester for the first time and saw how ashen white he was, and pity overflowed in David’s heart. “Why, you poor old boy,” he said and put his arm affectionately inside Lester’s arm, “sit down and don’t look like that.”
Then Lester tried to smile, but failed utterly. Tears sprang into his eyes and began to run down his cheeks. “David,” he cried, “I’m ashamed, so ashamed! I hate myself!” His voice broke; he sank into the chair at David’s desk and, throwing out his arms, hid his face in them.
David patted him on the back and talked soothingly. “Don’t think of it any more, Lester. We’ll never think of it again. It will be just between us two; and you mustn’t let it break you all up like this. I know how sorry you are. And you really weren’t yourself when you did it; you were all worn out.” He stroked the back of Lester’s head gently.