[CHAPTER XVII]
ALLAN LEAVES THE CLUB TABLE
March winds are freakish, prankish things, and the wind in the face of which Allan crossed the yard one morning a fortnight or so after the indoor meeting was no exception. He was on his way from Grace Hall to the Chemical Laboratory for a ten o’clock, and at the corner of the chapel he passed a couple of fellows whom a casual glance showed him he did not know. But that he was not a stranger to one of them was soon proven. The wind, scurrying around the corner of the chapel, tossed him the following fragment of conversation with startling distinctness:
“Who’s that fellow, Steve?”
“Ware, a freshie; he runs, or tries to. He was in the mile and two miles at Boston week before last and didn’t do a thing in either of them. Guess the Athletic Association will take his job away now. They just employed him to keep him in college, I guess. This thing of giving fellows work just because——”
The words ended as suddenly as they had begun, so far as Allan was concerned, and he strode on to the laboratory. But his cheeks were burning and his heart was filled with wrath. For the first time he realized that his employment by the E. A. A. had a suspicious look, to say the least, while it was even probable that what the fellow he had overheard thought was really true. He was angry at the unknown youth for saying what he had, angry with Stearns for placing him in such a questionable position, and angry at Professor Nast for countenancing it. He wondered whether all the fellows he knew or who knew him believed as did the fellow he had passed, that he was knowingly allowing the Athletic Association to present him with money he was not earning.
The blood dyed his face again, and he marveled at his blindness. Why had he not seen from the first that Stearns had secured him the place in the office merely to ensure his stay at college and his participation in the dual meet with Robinson? And hadn’t he more than half suspected all along? But no, he was guiltless of that charge. Credulous and blind he had been, but not dishonest. And dishonest he would not be now. He passed a miserable, impatient half-hour, and when it was over hurried to the office of the Athletic Association and found Professor Nast at his desk.
The professor was a mild-mannered little man, rather nervous and seemingly indecisive, but he was executively capable and had much sound common sense. He viewed Allan’s arrival with mild curiosity, nodded silently, and turned back to his work. But Allan didn’t allow him to continue it.