He walked on to his room, debating the matter, and finally wrote a letter to his mother.
"Dear Mother:
"... The sixteen fellows composing the proposed club are the most prominent men in the class. It is a great compliment to be asked to join them, I suppose, and what is more important, I should be saving money by it. But although they are all nice to me, I do not altogether like them—except that little fellow, Lee, I told you about, and one or two others.
"To be sure, I do not know much about them, but I know enough to know they do not study much—or 'pole,' as we call it—and more than that, some of them—well, I don't think you would like them. Now my friends at my present eating-club all study hard and have a definite aim in life. They are helpful and congenial friends. I should not like to leave them. They say they would hate to have me go, too. But they also say I would be foolish, for financial reasons, not to accept the offer."
When Mrs. Young read this letter, she at first wanted to say, "keep out of fast company, whatever you do!" But on second thoughts she saw that if Will did not embrace this opportunity he might not be able to stay in college at all—and as for the new associates, she knew that her boy was no weakling. Finally she agreed with Will's friends that he would be foolish to let the chance go by, and wrote immediately, saying so. "And your own conduct will be a good example to the others," she wrote.
Will had already made up his mind that way before receiving this letter, and felt so glad and relieved about it that he played very well at right guard that day; twice he broke through and stopped the opposing quarter-back from passing the ball, and was duly applauded by those watching from the terrace behind Witherspoon Hall. He was commended even by Nolan, the Junior who coached the team. "Now that you're learning to use your weight," said Nolan, "you're improving a little. By next year you will know something about the game; by Junior year you might run a chance of making the 'Varsity." And this was a good deal for a reserved man like Nolan to say, and quite enough to make Young's heart beat faster, though it was going pretty fast already from the hard exercise.
"Wait a minute, Young," said the Freshman captain, "we're going to let you stay at right guard. Come up to my room to-night and get measured for your suit." This meant that he was no longer trying for the Freshman eleven, but had earned his place upon it. So he dog-trotted back to his room, feeling exuberant and strong and hopeful, and very glad that he had determined to run the new club. "Well, it's beginning to look now as if I might get through the year," he said to himself as he jogged along. "Haven't any board to pay now, and if I get through this year, I guess I can manage as a Sophomore all right. There's the Freshman $200 prize—I run a chance at winning that at the end of the year; and I'll still have this club next year. I'll still have tuition remitted. Perhaps I can get one of those rooms in Old North: the rent is free there, and the rooms are big, too; and maybe I can get some newspapers to correspond for, or else I can get some tutoring. Oh, I'll manage somehow, all right, if I'm careful. Then, what'll father say?"
Panting and perspiring he hurried upstairs to his room, sponged off and rubbed down with witch-hazel, put on dry clothes, and then walked over to the club—the old club still; the new one was not to begin till next week—glowing and glad to be alive.
They all shouted, "Yea-a-a, Deacon!" at him when he came in, and jumped up to congratulate him on making the team and pounded him on the back, for Barrows had overheard what the captain said. Young could tell from their manner that they were genuinely glad of his success.
After eating a huge meal with his congenial clubmates he returned to his room, spent a studious evening with Xenophon, went to bed and slept like a bear, or rather like a healthy young athlete that is in perfect condition and has a clear conscience. Oh, these were happy days!