A NEW CHUM
For a moment Joe stood there, his heart pounding away under his ribs, uncertain what to do—wondering if the Sophomore had recognized him. Then, as the other gave no sign, but continued on his way, whistling gaily, Joe breathed easier.
“The cad!” he whispered. “I’d like to—to——” He paused. He remembered that he was at Yale—that he was a Freshman and that he was supposed to take the insults of those above him—of the youth who had a year’s advantage over him in point of time.
“Yes, I’m a Freshman,” mused Joe, half bitterly. “I’m supposed to take it all—to grin and bear it—for the good of my soul and conscience, and so that I won’t get a swelled head. Well,” he concluded with a whimsical smile, “I guess there’s no danger.”
He looked after the retreating figure of the Sophomore, now almost lost in the dusk that enshrouded the campus, and then he laughed softly.
“After all!” he exclaimed, “it’s no more than I’ve done to the lads at Excelsior Hall. I thought it was right and proper then, and I suppose these fellows do here. Only, somehow, it hurts. I—I guess I’m getting older. I can’t appreciate these things as I used to. After all, what is there to it? There’s too much class feeling and exaggerated notion about one’s importance. It isn’t a man’s game—though it may lead to it. I’d rather be out—standing on my own feet.
“Yes, out playing the game with men—the real game—I want to get more action than this,” and he looked across at the college buildings, now almost deserted save for a professor or two, or small groups of students who were wandering about almost as disconsolately as was Joe himself.
“Oh, well!” he concluded. “I’m here, and I’ve got to stay at least for mother’s sake, and I’ll do the best I can. I’ll grin and bear it. It won’t be long until Spring, and then I’ll see if I can’t make good. I’m glad Weston didn’t recognize me. It might have made it worse. But he’s bound to know, sooner or later, that I’m the fellow he saw pitch that day, and, if he’s like the rest of ’em I suppose he’ll have the story all over college. Well, I can’t help it.” And with this philosophical reflection Joe turned and made his way toward his rooming house.
It was a little farther than he had thought, and he was a bit sorry he had not selected one nearer the college. There were too many students to permit all of them to dwell in the dormitories proper, and many sought residences in boarding places and in rooming houses, and dined at students’ clubs.
“I suppose I’ll have to hunt up some sort of an eating joint,” mused Joe, as he plodded along. “I’d be glad to get in with some freshmen who like the baseball game. It’ll be more sociable. I’ll have to be on the lookout.”