And, Young soon decided, they were not such a bad lot as he had at first thought. Undoubtedly they were not a poling crowd and perhaps some of them were "sporty," but not so many of them as he had feared. College was a great place to broaden your mind, he concluded.
However, as he remarked to some of his former clubmates, when they asked how he liked the new crowd: "They may be doing a great many things when I'm not around that I don't know anything about. Sometimes at the other end of the table they make references to things, and they seem not to want me to understand. I know the other day when I came in late from football practice, I heard one of 'em say, 'Shut up, Billy, here comes the Deacon!'"
And this shows why Wilson, the man studying for the ministry, told Young, when alone, "Deacon, you have an excellent opportunity for exercising a steadying, sobering influence upon that set of gay, thoughtless fellows—they all respect you heartily."
The Divisional examinations came along soon after the organization of the club, and Young was in great demand by those taking the academic course like himself. Few of the Invincibles had studied conscientiously during the preceding weeks. They had rather prided themselves on not being "greasy polers" as they called fellows like Young's former clubmates, but now they were all poling at a great rate themselves, and some of them declared they would not get through, though to Young's amazement they seemed not to care whether they were to be conditioned or not; they considered it a joke.
Perhaps one or two of them would not have passed, if it had not been for Young. "The old Deacon is a valuable man to have around," said Billy Drew. Most of them landed in the lower divisions, but one of them proved quite a wonder to Young. His name was Todd, and he had never opened a book, apparently, since the term began. To Young's knowledge he took long walks into the country—up over the hills to the north of town—every afternoon after examination instead of studying, and invariably he was the first to finish his paper and leave the examination-room. And yet when the lists of divisions were posted, much to everyone's surprise, Todd's name was in the First division—along with Young's.
They jokingly called him "Poler Todd," and made him treat the whole club to cigars on the way back from dinner. Apparently he was as much surprised as anyone, but he seemed not to care very much, and the dignified Deacon did not know what to make of him. Young himself felt very much gratified over his success and wrote home to the minister about it, and confided to him, that he was going to try to capture the Freshman First Honor prize. The minister wrote back a fine, long letter, wishing him success and congratulating him on his progress, and also upon his making the team. Will had no idea the minister would be so pleased over athletic success.
So, every day now it was, "Deacon, how many lines of Homer do we have to-day?" "How do you demonstrate this, Deacon?"
At first he liked to have them appeal to him, but after awhile it became a little tiresome; not that he minded the trouble—it was no trouble; but he did not like to be thought of only as a man who always knew where the lesson was. He began to wish they would treat him more in the hail-fellow well-met way they treated each other. With Todd, for instance, they were as familiar and free and easy as they were with Billy Drew, and yet Todd was a First division man, like Young. Sometimes he found himself watching them after dinner, and it was a matter of wonder to him how Todd could always answer Powelton back, with a witty piece of repartee, quick as a flash, without looking up from the dessert-plate at which he was aiming tobacco-smoke. Somehow, Will thought, he would like to be able to do that way.
The truth was they did not dare to be familiar with Young; they respected him too much. Sometimes he felt tired of cold respect and wanted warm liking.