“Sydenham E. Mather, President.
“Attest: R. E. Hagerman, Secretary.”
Parmenter laid the letter on his table, and stared from his window across the fields, the city, and the distant river to the far-off western hills. They were simply a dark, uneven band against a sky from which the deepening twilight had brushed the last vestige of rose.
The punishment was severe enough in all conscience. He could lay away the manuscript of his oration now, or burn it up as he chose; he would never need it. He would indeed need nothing of the kind for two years.
Two years of punishment and disgrace for an hour of silly revenge and doubtful fun! To be cut off from the prize stage with the highest honor almost within his grasp; it was hard, it was terrible!
He had expected his mother and sister on at Commencement, to share in his success. He would have to write to them now that they need not come. Worse than that, he would have to tell them the reason why.
There were others, too, people in the city, who knew of his hopes and ambitions in oratory. He did not see how he could meet them now, or speak to them on the subject.
Another man would take his place on the stage. For some one else there would be the golden opportunity, the exhilaration of oratory, the admiration of the crowd, the ribboned bouquets, the rolling applause, the splendid triumph.
Still he sat looking out upon the western sky. One star was glowing in the clear expanse. Below the horizon there was nothing but darkness, pricked here and there by the lights of far-off electric lamps.