physical training; the indisputable fact is that the faculty has made the rule. For the sake of argument – although I said I would not argue – let us assume that the faculty has not the right. What can you do about it? The rules are not altered, after ten years, on the demand of one scholar out of a school of some two hundred. If the pupil stands firm and the faculty stands firm what is going to be the result? Why, the two must part company. In other words, the pupil must leave. Do you think it is worth it?”
“But it’s wrong, sir, and if I accept the – the arrangement I am indorsing it, and I can’t do that.”
“But maybe it isn’t wrong; we only assumed it to be, you remember. You don’t care for athletics?”
“Not much, sir; I like riding and shooting and fishing, but I don’t see the good of fussing – I mean exercising – with dumb-bells and chest weights and single sticks; and it tires me so that I can’t do my lessons well.” The principal raised his eyebrows in genuine astonishment.
“Are you certain of that? Maybe you have not given the thing a fair trial. We believe here at Hillton that it is just as necessary to keep a boy’s health good as his morals, and our plan has worked admirably for many years. The rule regarding ‘compulsory physical education,’ as you call it, is not peculiar to Hillton; it is to be found at every preparatory school in the country, I feel sure. A capability for good studying depends on a clear brain and a well body, and these, in turn, depend on a proper attention to exercise and recreation. The first of these we demand; the other we encourage and expect. Who is your roommate?”
“Donald Cunningham, sir.”
“Indeed! And does he have very much trouble with his studies?”
“No, sir; but he has been at it for two years – the gymnasium work, I mean. I’m not used to it, and I find the studies difficult, and if I am tired I can’t do them.”
“If gymnasium work tires you it is undoubtedly because you have not had enough of it. And it shows that you need it. Professor Beck is very careful to require no more in that direction from a boy than his condition should allow, and to render mistakes impossible the physical examination of every pupil is made when he enters, and again at intervals until he leaves school. Now, I will speak to Professor Beck; maybe it will seem advisable to him to make your exercise a little lighter for a while. But I expect you to report regularly at the gymnasium, or, if you are feeling unfit, to tell me of the fact. We won’t require any boy to do anything that might be of injury to him. Will you promise to do this?”
“I can’t, sir. It is the principle of the thing that is wrong.”
“I can’t discuss that with you any longer, Gordon; I’ve done so at greater length than I intended to already. You must obey the rules while you are here. If you do not you must go elsewhere. When is your next gymnasium day?”
“To-morrow, sir.”
“Very well; I shall expect you to be there. If you are not I shall be obliged to put you on probation, which is a very uncomfortable thing. If you still refuse you will be suspended. I tell you this now so that you may labor under no illusions. I do not complain because you hold the views which you do – they are surprising, but not against discipline – but I must and do insist that you obey the rules. Think it over, Gordon, and don’t do yourself an injury by taking the wrong course. If you want to see me in the morning, after you have slept on the matter, you will find me here. Good day.”
“Good day, sir, and thank you for your advice; only – ”
“Well?”
“I don’t think I can do as you wish.”
“But,” answered the principal earnestly, “let us hope that you can.”
CHAPTER VI
WAYNE PAYS A BILL
“I want two dollars, Don.”
Don glanced up with a smile.
“So do I; I was thinking so just this morning. I need a new pair of gymnasium shoes, and – But please, Wayne, come in and shut the door; there’s a regular cyclone blowing around my feet.”
“But, look here. I want to borrow two dollars from you, Don; I must have it right away,” said Wayne peremptorily, as he shut out the draught.
“Sorry, because I haven’t got fifty cents to my name, and won’t have until Monday. What do you want to do with it? Going to start a bank?”
“That’s none of your business,” answered Wayne; “and if you can’t lend it to me I can’t stop chinning here. I’ll try Paddy, I guess.”
“Paddy!” exclaimed Don, with a grin. “Why, Paddy never has a nickel ten minutes after his dad sends him his allowance, which is the first. If he had I’d be after him this minute; he’s owed me eighty cents ever since September. Dave might have it. Have you had dinner? Where did you go to?”
“Dinner? No, I forgot about it. What time is it? Am I too late?”
“Of course; it’s twenty after two. What have you been doing?”
“Oh, I’ve – ” Wayne’s face grew cloudy as he jumped off the end of the table and went to the door. “I’ll tell you about it later. I’m busy now. Has Dave got a recitation on?”
“What’s to-day – Thursday? I’m sure I don’t know. I never can keep track of his hours; seniors are such an erratic, self-important lot.”
“Well, I’ll run over and see. Er – by the way, do you know a chap called Gray, a rather pasty-looking lower middle fellow?”
“Gray? No, I don’t think so. What does he do?”
“Do? Oh, I think he’s a baseball player, or something like that.”
“Don’t remember him. Are you coming up here after four?”
“Yep; wait for me.”
Wayne clattered off downstairs and crossed the green back of the gymnasium and the principal’s residence. As he went he drew a little roll of money from his vest, supplemented it with a few coins from his trousers’ pocket, and counted the whole over twice. He shook his head as he put the money away again.
“Nine dollars and forty-two cents,” he muttered, “and I can’t make any more of it if I count it all day.”
He ran up the steps to Hampton House, pushed open the broad, white door and entered the big colonial hallway. At the far end a cheerful fire was cracking in a generous chimney place, lighting up the dim gilt frames and dull canvases of the portraits of bygone Hilltonians that looked severely down from the walls. Hampton House is a dormitory whose half dozen rooms are inhabited by a few wealthy youths who find in the comfort of the great, old-fashioned apartments and the prestige that residence therein brings compensation for the high rents. Wayne turned sharply to the right and beat a tattoo with his knuckles over the black figure 2 on the door. From within came the sound of a loud voice in monotonous declamation. Wayne substituted his shoe for his knuckles and Paddy’s voice bade him enter.
“Where’s Dave?” asked Wayne. Paddy, who had been tramping up and down the apartment with a book in his hand, and declaiming pages of Cæsar’s Civil War to the chandelier, tossed the volume aside and tried to smooth down his hair, which was standing up in tumbled heaps, making him look
