“What we fellows need to do is to get out and make a noise like having some fun,” opined Dutch Housenlager. “When the cat’s gone on her vacation, the mice eat bread and cheese, you know. Proc. Zane is closeted with the bunch of highbrows, and so what’s the matter with cutting up some?”
“Dutch, I’m surprised at you!” exclaimed Tom, reproachfully.
“Why? What’s the matter?” asked the fun-loving youth, innocently.
“Wanting to skylark at a time like this, just because the authorities are in statuo quo,” went on Tom. “Not on your life, Dutch! It’s fun enough to play some tricks when you’re taking chances on getting caught. Now it would be like taking pie from a baby in arms.”
“I guess you’re right,” admitted Dutch Housenlager, contritely. “We’ll defer the operation,” he went on, in solemn tones. “I think the patient will survive until morning.”
Seldom had there been such an attendance at service as greeted Dr. Churchill when he stood on the platform in the Booker Memorial Chapel the next morning. The early sun glinted in through the stained glass windows, and seemed to pervade the room with a mystic light that added to the solemnity of the occasion.
The Scriptural selection was from one of the Psalms of David—one of those beautiful prose poems which are such a comfort in times of trouble. And as the vibrant tones of the venerable president’s voice rose and fell, when he feelingly spoke the words, it seemed to the boys, careless and happy-go-lucky as they might be ordinarily, that a new dignity and depth of appreciation was theirs.
After the prayer, which was in keeping with the Bible reading, Dr. Churchill arose, and came slowly to the edge of the platform. He stood for a moment, silently contemplating the throng of earnest young faces raised to his, and then he spoke.
“Men of Randall,” he began, solemnly, “we are facing a crisis in the history of our college. Men of Randall, it behooves us to meet it bravely, and with our faces to the enemy. Men of Randall, we may be at the parting of the ways, and so, being men together, I speak to you as men.”
The good doctor paused, and a sound, as of a great sigh, passed through the assemblage. Usually when the doctor had any announcement to make, he addressed the students as “young gentlemen.” They felt the change in the appellation more than any amount of talk would have impressed them.