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
In response to Will's eager questions, Mr. Phelps explained that he had
come to Winthrop to satisfy himself as to the exact status as to the
fever that had broken out. Before he had come up to Will's room he had
consulted the college officials and now felt that he was in a position
to decide calmly what must be done by his son.
"And what's the verdict?" inquired Will.
"It will not be necessary for you to return. I think everything is being
done that ought to be and though we shall be anxious, still I am not
unduly alarmed. I have confidence in you, Will, and I am sure you will
not be careless in a time like this. The president informs me that there
have not been any new cases since the first outbreak, and he is of the
opinion that all these cases were due to one cause and that was found
outside of the village."
"Then you don't want me to go home with you?" inquired Will quizzically.
"What I might 'want' and what is best are two different matters," said
his father with a smile, "Just at present what I want and what you need
happen to be one and the same thing."
"What's that?"
"Your Greek."
Will's face clouded and then unmindful of the others who were in the
room he told his father of his recent interview with his professor of
Greek. The smile of amusement on the face of Mr. Phelps when Will began
soon gave way to an expression of deep concern. To Will, who understood
him so thoroughly, it was evident that his father was angry as well as
disappointed, and for a moment there was a feeling of exultation in his
own heart. Now something would be done, he felt confident, and the
injustice under which he was laboring and suffering would be done away.
"Your other work is all right, Will?" inquired his father after a brief
silence.
"Oh, yes! Fine! If old Splinter was only half the man that Professor
Sinclair is, there wouldn't be a bit of trouble. Why the recitation in
Latin never seems to be more than fifteen minutes long. But the
Greek--bah! The hour is like a week of Sundays!"
"Still, Will, there is only one way out of it for you."
"I suppose so," responded Will, his heart sinking as he spoke.
"Yes, it must be faced. I know it's hard, but you can't get around it,
Will, and I'm sure you don't want to run from it. As I told you, it
isn't as if your Greek professor was the only one of his kind you will
meet in life, for his name is legion and you will find him everywhere.
The only thing for you to do is to keep on with your tutor and prove
yourself to be the master. If you do that, the experience, hard as it
is, may prove to be one of the best that could come to you."
Will was silent for a moment before he spoke, and then he said
impulsively, "Well, pop, I suppose you are right. I'll do my best."
"Of course you will," responded his father quietly, though his eyes
were shining. "It isn't so hard for you as it is for Mr. Schenck."
"Is Peter John worse?" inquired Will quickly.
"Yes."
"Isn't there something we can do?" said Will eagerly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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