Ray turned to me. It was evident that we were of the same mind. Ray’s thoughts no doubt dwelt longingly a moment on the commencement honors he had hoped to win, but his face showed no struggle, no hesitation. Dr. Drayton’s effort to force him into renouncing baseball had aroused all his latent pride and sense of honor. He felt, as I did, that the condition was unfair, and based upon a wrong assumption—namely, that baseball and studies could not be conducted together without a loss to the latter. Turning to the president, Ray spoke for both of us.
“If this is the condition, Dr. Drayton, then we must choose the five weeks’ suspension,” he said quietly.
Dr. Drayton wheeled sharply around in his chair and took up some papers that lay on his desk. From the way his hands trembled I could see that he was very angry.
I started to speak.
“You have said quite enough, young gentlemen,” he said in a constrained voice. “If this is your decision, I must own that I am deeply disappointed at your choice, which does you very little credit. Please make arrangements to leave college to-morrow. Mr. Dikes will notify your parents of your suspension.”
“Dr. Drayton, is there no alternative?” asked Ray almost imploringly, his voice nearly breaking under the pressure of his pent up feelings.
“There was an alternative, sir, but you have rejected it. Nothing now remains but the penalty which the faculty have imposed. You would have shown more wisdom had you accepted that alternative.”
“Oh, no, sir; we cannot accept,” exclaimed Ray in despair.
“Then good day, sir,” said Dr. Drayton, without relaxing a muscle.