"A prize of $200, part of the income of the J. S. K. fund;" but what was this?—"To be paid in quarterly instalments during the following year"! He had never noticed that before. For a moment it made him feel sick at the stomach. Then he decided that it was not so bad after all, for if he only won the prize he could borrow money on the certificate of it that would be presented the winner at commencement.
For the first day or two the club guyed him for turning poler, and they thought his serious and grave demeanor was very funny when he declined to join with them in their pursuits. At first he paid no attention to their jeers; he had no time. Then came the day he got angry and said. "It makes no difference to me what you fellows think. I've quit my foolishness for good, and that's all there is to it. Now let me alone."
He struck the table a heavy blow, and looked as if he meant everything he said; and no one felt inclined to guy him again. He looked like the old Deacon who had done up Ballard.
"The Deacon must have an attack of R. E. Morse," Billy Drew said, as he left the room.
"I think he's pretty hard hit financially," said Lucky Lee, who had been pretty hard hit of late himself. "He's working his way through college, you know. I wish he hadn't lost so much money."
"He had no business playing, then," said Powelton.
"I respect him for stopping, anyway," said Todd, who seldom played cards; recently he had not played at all; he had been doing some studying, "just for fun," he said.
"So do I," said Lee, in a low voice, and the others agreed—in lower voices.
Meanwhile, Young was studying as if his life depended upon it, and the strain was telling. He had lost twenty-four pounds since the football season.
The fellows saw nothing of him now except at meals, where he kept his white face turned down to the book beside his plate. They had left off guying him, and were worrying about him instead.