As he approached the walk that led from the street back to the professor's home he came face to face with Mott and Peter John Schenck. His surprise at meeting them was not greater than that he should find them together, and the fact to his mind boded little good for his classmate. "Going in to see Splinter?" inquired Mott. "Yes." "Better not." "Why?" "Boot-licking isn't in very high favor here at Winthrop." Will was glad that the darkness concealed the flush which he knew crept over his face, but his voice was steady as he replied: "That's all right, Mott. I'm not going in to see Splinter because I want to, you may let your heart rest easy as to that." "How long are you going to be in the house?" "I'm afraid that will not be for me to decide. If I have my way, it won't be long." "Well, good luck to you!" called Mott as he and his companion passed on down the street. Will rang the bell and was at once ushered into the professor's study. The professor himself was seated at his desk with a green shade over his eyes, and evidently had been at work upon some papers. Will even fancied that he could recognize the one which he himself had handed in the preceding day and his embarrassment increased. "Ah, good evening, Mr. Phelps," said the professor extending his hand and partly rising from his seat as he greeted his caller. "Will you be seated?" "Good evening, professor," replied the freshman as he took the chair indicated. An awkward silence followed which Will somehow found it difficult to break in upon. He heartily wished that he had not come, for the reality was much worse than he had thought. Even the very lines and furrows in the professor's face seemed to him to be forbidding, and he felt that it would be well-nigh impossible for him to explain the purpose of his coming. "Was there something concerning which you desired to consult me?" inquired the professor. The voice seemed to be as impersonal as that of a phonograph, and every letter in every word was so distinctly pronounced that the effect was almost electric. "Yes, sir." Again silence intervened. The professor's lips moved slightly as if, as Will afterwards declared, "he was tasting his Greek roots," but he did not speak. The freshman shifted his position, toyed with his gloves and at last, unable to endure the suspense any longer, he broke forth: "Yes, sir, there is, professor. I have not been doing very well in my Greek." "Ah. Let me see." The professor opened a drawer and drew forth a little notebook which he consulted for a brief time. "Yes, you are correct. Your work is below the required standard." "But what am I to do about it?" demanded Will. "Yes, ah, yes. I fancy it will be necessary for you to spend a somewhat longer period of study in preparation." "But _how_ shall I study?" "Yes. Yes. Ah, yes. Exactly so. So you refer to the method to be employed in the preparation for the classroom?"