Winning His "W": A Story of Freshman Year at CollegeTomlinson, Everett T. (Everett Titsworth)
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Winning His "W": A Story of Freshman Year at College
Tomlinson, Everett T. (Everett Titsworth)
College students -- Juvenile fiction; Sports stories
A few in the assemblage noted the condition of the boys and laughed
thoughtlessly, but neither Will nor his room-mate was in a frame of mind
to respond. Disgusted, angry, mortified beyond expression, they
nevertheless assisted the boys to the seats in the taxi which Will had
secured, and quickly doing as he was bidden, the driver started rapidly
up the street. Peter John had fallen heavily against Will's shoulder and
was instantly asleep, but Mott was not to be so easily disposed of.
Peering out from the window at the crowds that were moving up the street
and by which the taxi was passing, he emitted three or four wild whoops
and then began to sing:
"We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band,
On the right side of temperance we always do stand;
We don't use tobacco, for this we do think,
That those who do use it most always do drink."
"Mott, if you don't keep quiet I'll throw you out," exclaimed Will
mortified as he perceived that the passing crowd was turning about to
discover what the noisy commotion meant.
"A'-a' right," responded Mott in a shout that could have been heard far
away. "I'll be as sthill as an intensified hippopotamus! Not a sound of
my voice shall awake the echoes of these purple hills. I'll not be the
one to arouse the slumbers of this peaceful vale."
"Driver," interrupted Will sharply, "stop your cab."
"No, no, Will, you'll only make a bad matter worse. Let's keep on and do
the best we can. It'll only call attention to ourselves," said Foster
hastily.
"Thatsh sho," assented Mott noisily, swaying in his seat as he spoke.
"Keep on, driver. Go straight up to prexy's house; I've got something
p'ticular to shay t' him. Shame, way the team sold out t'-day! Disgrace
to old Winthrop! Have a good mind to leave the college myself an' go to
Alden; they're men there! They know how to stan' up an' take their
med'cine. Great place, Alden! Guess they'll be shorry here when they
shee me with a great big A on my sweater!"
"Mott, keep still," exclaimed Foster.
"Keep still yerself, freshman. Don't talk t' me."
There was nothing to be done except to endure it all in silence or put
the noisy student out of the taxi. Poor Will felt that the people they
were passing looked upon all four of the occupants of the cab as if they
were all in the same disgraceful condition. His eyes blazed and his
cheeks were crimson. To him it seemed as if the cab was scarcely moving
on its way to Leland Hall. The way was interminable, the suffering
almost too great to be endured.
At last, however, the driver stopped before the dormitory where Mott had
his room and Foster said, "Will, I'll look after this fellow if you'll
attend to Peter John."
"Nobody--no freshman in p'ticular--ish going to help me!" exclaimed Mott
noisily. "I can walk a chalk line, I can. Keep your eyes on me and
you'll see how it's done."
"All right. Get out, then," said Foster hastily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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