A fellow student came across the campus.
“Endicott,” he called, “have you seen Hallowell go toward the village within a few minutes?”
“He just want, out the gate,” responded Michael pleasantly.
Mr. Endicott looked up surprised.
“Is that the name by which you are known?”
“Endicott? Yes, sir, Michael Endicott. Was it not by your wish? I supposed they had asked you. I had no other name that I knew.”
“Ah! I didn’t know,” pondered Endicott.
There was silence for a moment.
“Would you,—shall I—do you dislike my having it?” asked the boy delicately sensitive at once.
But the man looked up with something like tenderness in his smile.