“It’s a Latin name for a college,” answered Dr. Crandon. “I think that ‘cherishing mother’ is a pretty good way to translate it into English.
“A college looks after you, and tries to make a man of you, something the way your mother does, you know.”
“All the mother I ever had,” said Billy, “was only a week.”
“Oh, young chap, I’m sorry,” said Dr. Crandon, throwing his arm across Billy’s shoulder the way college boys sometimes do.
“I tell you what I’d do,” he added quickly; “I’d begin to think about an ‘Alma Mater.’ You could work your way through, you know. I began that way myself.
“Don’t you do it, though, on less than three meals a day—square ones,” he added with professional zeal.
“I shall keep an eye on you, young chap. I surely shall!”
Then he remembered that he had some letters to post, and hurried off to the nearest box.
Billy kept on walking toward Mr. Prescott and Uncle John, who were coming slowly back under the beautiful trees.
After he had gone a little way, Billy waited, in the middle of the walk, for them to come up.