At home there was a western porch where he had often sat with his mother and sister to watch just such an evening scene as this. His lips began to quiver, and his eyes to fill with tears. He turned back into the room, laid his head down on his bed, and gave way, for the first time in years, to a prolonged fit of weeping.
But Parmenter’s flood of tears had not the effect to clear his mental sky.
When he awoke on the following morning his heart was as hard and bitter toward Professor Lee as before; this feeling, strangely enough, still overshadowing his resentment against Van Loan.
As for Charley, Parmenter felt that it was all over between them now. The quarrel of the day before had settled that; and while, in his own mind, he knew that he had provoked it, yet Charley had said some things in his anger which he could not forget.
After the blow had fallen, Parmenter had not cared to leave his room until night, nor to converse with anybody; and he had not yet heard of Lee’s confession.
Coming back up the hill from a late breakfast that morning, and turning the corner of South College to go into the chapel, he saw a crowd of students at the bulletin-board reading and discussing some notice posted thereon.
He did not need to be told what it was. Instead of going to chapel to be gazed at and commented on, he decided to pass directly to his room. When he was nearly across the campus he met Robinson hurrying over to chapel exercises.
The bell was already tolling the final strokes, but Robinson stopped to speak to him.
“Well,” he said, as if Parmenter already knew all about it, “you and Charley are cut.”
“Charley,” exclaimed Parmenter in surprise. “What’s he cut for?”