“Do the girls get any of this physical culture, or whatever you call it?” asked Father.
“They certainly do, and we give them more and better opportunities every year. They have a very competent woman to direct their classes and give corrective exercises to those who need them. They now have a chance at inter-class sports just as the men have.”
The ladies excused themselves, explaining that they were due to visit the Music Building.
“Are you acquainted with the work in music here?” the other visitor asked of Father. He confessed that he was not.
“I did hear the University Glee Club in our town last winter,” he explained, “and all the boys at the house where we’re staying can sing like birds. I didn’t know they had any regular department.”
“Indeed they have. It is growing rapidly under some very competent instruction. My daughter thought she would have to drop her music when she left home, but she can carry it right through her entire course. She’s interested in both piano and violin.”
Out on the campus once more, Father found Tom and the Boy with a dozen or more students in military uniforms hurrying along from the direction of the Gymnasium.
“Oh, dad, you should have seen the military work!” the Boy sang out across the campus. “Tom here says he doesn’t like it much, but it looks good to me.”
Tom shrugged his shoulders with the superior manner of one who knows.
“They have a unit of the R. O. T. C. here—the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps, you know. Every fellow has to take military his first two years, and then if he wants to keep it up, he may become an officer when he graduates. And he has a uniform furnished him, and gets sent to summer camps, and shoots in the rifle range—I think it’s bully! And you just ought to hear the military band!”