"Isn't Harvard the oldest and best seat of learning in America?" There was an exaltation in Krebs's voice that arrested my attention, and made me look at him again. A troubled chord had been struck within me.
"Sure," said Tom.
"What did you come for?" Mr. Krebs persisted.
"To sow my wild oats," said Tom. "I expect to have something of a crop, too."
For some reason I could not fathom, it suddenly seemed to dawn on Mr.
Krebs, as a result of this statement, that he wasn't wanted.
"Well, so long," he said, with a new dignity that curiously belied the informality of his farewell.
An interval of silence followed his departure.
"Well, he's got a crust!" said Tom, at last.
My own feeling about Mr. Krebs had become more complicated; but I took my cue from Tom, who dealt with situations simply.
"He'll come in for a few knockouts," he declared. "Here's to old Harvard, the greatest institution of learning in America! Oh, gee!"