And I was happy. I sang at the top of my voice, an old ballad about Captain John Smith, so that Barton could hear it through the open window of his office....
"And the little papooses dig holes in the sand ...
Vive le Capitaine John!..."
I leaped into the lake, without even my gee-string on, and swam far out, singing....
Late that evening, Barton came to my tent ... very gently and sweetly ... he no longer called me John or Johnnie ... I was now Mr. Gregory. He asked me, if he rented the plot back from me, would I go in peace? I replied, no, I meant to stay there till the middle of September, when the fall term opened at Mt. Hebron.
Then he asked me, would I just join forces with him,—since we must put the movement above personalities....
We had a long talk about life and "Nature" ideals. The man showed all his soul, all his struggles, to me. And I saw his real greatness and was moved greatly. And I informed him I would antagonise him no longer, that, though I would not give up the desirable site, otherwise, I would help him all I could.
Then he said he would be glad to have me stay, and we shook hands warmly, the moisture of feeling shining in our eyes.