"Come on, old man; buck up." Hugh's voice trembled; it was husky with sympathy. "Tell me about it. Maybe I can help." Then Morse looked up, his face stained with tears, his eyes inflamed, almost desperate. He stared at Hugh wonderingly. For an instant he was angry at the intrusion, but his anger passed at once. He could not miss the tenderness and sympathy in Hugh's face; and the boy's hand was still pressing with friendly insistence on his shoulder. There was something so boyishly frank, so clean and honest about Hugh that his irritation melted into confidence; and he craved a confidant passionately. "Shut the door," he said dully, and reached into his trousers pocket for his handkerchief. He mopped his face and eyes vigorously while Hugh was closing the door, and then blew his nose as if he hated it. But the tears continued to come, and all during his talk with Hugh he had to pause occasionally to dry his eyes. Hugh stood awkwardly in the middle of the rug, not knowing whether to sit down or not. Morse was clutching his handkerchief in his hand and staring at the floor. Finally he spoke up. "Sit down," he said in a dead voice, "there." Hugh sank into the chair Morse indicated and then gripped his hands together. He felt weak and frightened, and absolutely unable to say anything. But Morse saved him the trouble. "I suppose you think I am an awful baby," he began, his voice thick with tears, "but I just can't help it. I--I just can't help it. I don't want to cry, but I do." And then he added defiantly, "Go ahead and think I'm a baby if you want to." "I don't think you're a baby," Hugh said softly; "I'm just sorry; that's all.... I hope I can help." He smiled shyly, hopefully. His smile conquered Morse. "You're a good kid, Carver," he cried impulsively. "A darn good kid. I like you, and I'm going to tell you all about it. And I--I--I won't care if you laugh." "I won't laugh," Hugh promised, relieved to think that there was a possibility of laughing. The trouble couldn't be so awfully bad. Morse blew his nose, stuck his handkerchief into his pocket, pulled it out again and dabbed his eyes, returned it to his pocket, and suddenly stood up. "I'm homesick!" he blurred out. "I'm--I'm homesick, damned homesick. I've been homesick ever since I arrived. I--I just can't stand it." For an instant Hugh did have a wild desire to laugh. Part of the desire was caused by nervous relief, but part of it was caused by what seemed to him the absurdity of the situation: a big fellow like Morse blubbering, bawling for home and mother! "You can't know," Morse went on, "how awful it is--awful! I want to cry all the time. I can't listen in classes. A prof asked me a question to-day, and I didn't know what he had been talking about. He asked me what he had said. I had to say I didn't know. The whole class laughed, and the prof asked me why I had come to college. God! I nearly died."