“All I believe? Right you are, son! And I don’t believe you believe that you are any better because your great-great-grandfather was fried in oil by Spanish inquisitors away back in 1100 B. C.”
“You’re strong on dates!” laughed Leon.
“Dates,” replied Monty untroubledly, “are as useless as ancestors. They’re like the frills they put on lamb chops. You can’t eat them and the chop would taste just as well without ’em. I know that Columbus or Amerigo Vespucci or Sebastian Cabot or some other guy discovered America. But I don’t know when, and I don’t care, and it doesn’t matter. And, say, who did do it, anyway? I’ll bet it was the Vespucci chap, because they named the country America after him, and Columbus only got the capital of Ohio named after him!”
“Well,” answered Leon, “if that’s your argument, the real discoverer must have been a fellow named United States!”
CHAPTER XI
MONTY IS BORED
Monty’s day was as follows. He awoke early, which was a habit of his and for which he claimed no special merit, and, propped up in bed, studied for a half-hour or, occasionally, an hour. At seven or thereabouts he arose. Chapel was at seven-thirty. Attendance was compulsory. Breakfast was at eight o’clock, whether one ate in the big dining-hall at Lothrop or the smaller one in Manning or a tiny one in Morris or Fuller. The first recitation was at nine and the last at two, the hour between twelve and one being devoted to dinner. Monty’s schedule provided him with four hours on Mondays and Fridays, three hours on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays and one hour on Saturdays, the latter being from nine to ten. When there was a spare hour between recitations he was supposed to spend it in preparation. If you were a member of either of the school societies you usually ascended to the society’s room on the top floor of School Hall and did the best you could in the presence of from six to twenty others, several of whom would doubtless be playing pool. Otherwise you went into the library or the common room in your dormitory or retired to your study. In Monty’s case, as Morris lay the length of the front campus away from School Hall, he usually affected the library. At a few minutes before three the last class for the day was dismissed. At three-thirty football practice began and continued for anywhere from an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half. After practice, twenty minutes or more was spent in getting a shower, dressing and returning to the room. Supper was at six. In the evening one theoretically did as one pleased, although a certain amount of “digging” was necessary to even the idlest. Visits to the village after supper were not encouraged, but one might go if one filled out a “pass,” and had it viséd by an instructor or proctor. That was the average program for a member of the two middle classes. The juniors were more restricted, and underwent an hour of compulsory study in the evening. The seniors usually had fewer hours of recitation during the week, with, consequently, more free time. On Sundays every student attended church in the morning, and could go again in the evening if he desired. There was a Bible class in the afternoon, and, in the evening, the Christian Fraternity held a meeting. Both of these were open to all members of the school.
Now, it would seem that Monty’s days were sufficiently occupied to prevent his being bored, and yet on the Thursday evening succeeding the defeat at the hands of St. James he distinctly made the assertion that he was bored. At the moment he was lying on the window-seat in Number 14 Lothrop, his hands under his head—he had brushed the pillows to the floor because he disliked having his head higher than his feet—and his gaze fixed on a spot on the ceiling. The statement was made to no one in particular, but was heard by Jimmy and Leon. Dud was upstairs visiting Ordway. For a long moment the remark brought no response. Then Leon yawned, and:
“So am I,” he responded. “I wish there was something to do.”