Whatever may have been Ray Wendell’s feelings that night, my own were varied and conflicting. Not that I repented of our decision. By no means. If the question had again been presented to us in the manner in which it had been proposed by Dr. Drayton the evening previous, I should have made the same answer. But, at the same time, the importance of our college duties, and their claim upon our attention, made me regret more deeply the necessity that had compelled such a choice as ours.
Frequently during the night would arise the question: “Should I have sacrificed my college interests for baseball?” and almost immediately would come the feeling that we had been treated unjustly in being forced to such a choice, and that we were right in rejecting it. The more I considered the matter, however, the more in doubt I became. From this doubt Professor Fuller offered the only chance of relief, and I maintained unwavering trust in him.
“I won’t get discouraged about the matter until I hear what the ‘old governor’ has to say,” I repeated to myself.
Professor Fuller was the oldest and by far the most popular member of the faculty. He was always the student’s first friend on his entrance into Belmont; and many a homesick boy had cause to remember most gratefully the kind attention of the professor at a time when the surroundings were strange to him and he was sadly in need of friendly advice. The old gentleman had always made it a principle to interest himself in all newcomers, to welcome them, and make them feel at home. By innumerable little acts of kindness he would manifest his fatherly interest in the boys, who loved him one and all with a warmth of feeling second only to that which they possessed for their parents.
There was no student who had not at some time felt the kindly influence of Professor Fuller, but it was the boy in trouble who always had special cause to be grateful. To him the students turned instinctively when in need of guidance or advice, and no one ever came away disappointed. It was this that had won for him the title of “the old governor,” which was no disrespectful name, but a genuine term of endearment, and was used by the fellows with feelings of the utmost affection.
It was no idle thought, therefore, that suggested Professor Fuller’s name to me, nor a vain hope that led us to seek his counsel in our trouble.
Immediately after breakfast the following morning I sought out Ray Wendell that we might lose no time in making our call on the professor. We met at the post office, and one glance at his face showed me that Ray’s mind was scarcely more at ease than my own. Few words were exchanged as we walked along the shady lane at the left of the college grounds, leading to Professor Fuller’s house. This was situated quite a distance back from the gate, in the midst of a large lawn, which was cut off from the street by a high hedge of evergreens.
As we approached we heard just on the other side of this hedge a female voice calling to Sport, the professor’s large collie dog, who was burrowing under the bushes. On entering the gate, we saw Miss Nettie Fuller leaning forward over a bank of flowers. She was a bright and attractive girl of sixteen and was held in the highest regard by the students who were fortunate enough to know her. Both of us being acquaintances of long standing, we stopped to speak to her. She did not notice us at first, for her face was hidden by a large sunbonnet, and her attention was engaged in her work, and in keeping the dog out of mischief.
“Sport, Sport, come here and leave that poor squirrel alone!” she called, turning her head toward the hedge.
At this moment the squirrel broke cover, and rushed across the path directly in front of us, Sport after it in hot pursuit. Immediately we dashed for him. Sport saw us coming, shied to one side, and brought us all down in a heap on the gravel path, Ray, however, retaining a firm hold on the dog’s collar. There was a sharp scuffle, a yelp from Sport, and the three of us rolled over and over in a confused mass.
Miss Nettie screamed faintly as she turned round; then, taking in the situation, she burst into a peal of laughter, while we disentangled ourselves, and got up.
“We were trying to make ourselves useful, Miss Nettie,” said Ray, as he picked up his hat and dusted off his clothes. “I hope we were, for we have ruined our chances of being ornamental.”
Thinking that she had perhaps laughed too hard at us, Miss Nettie blushed and sobered down.
“I hope you are not hurt,” she said. “Please excuse my laughing so. I fear you think I am very rude to receive visitors in such a manner.”
“Not when visitors call so informally,” returned Ray, with a smile.
There was a silence. Miss Nettie had taken off her sunbonnet, and was swinging it by the strings. She evidently wished to say something, but was in some doubt how to begin. Surmising what the subject might be, I asked:
“Is Professor Fuller in, Miss Nettie?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, looking up quickly. Then, continuing her gaze, she said slowly, “I think I know what you want to see him for.”
“No doubt of it,” answered Ray gravely. “The whole town will know it by to-night.”
“I can’t tell you how awfully sorry I am,” went on Miss Nettie, with an accent of genuine sympathy. “I heard all about it at breakfast this morning, and I think you are having a great deal more trouble than you deserve.”
We looked at her gratefully.
“It wasn’t your fault if the other boys didn’t behave,” she continued earnestly. “You did all you could to keep them quiet, and it was very mean of them to get you into such trouble.”
“The boys didn’t intend to, Miss Nettie,” I said, laughing. Notwithstanding her injustice to the other boys, I was pleased to have her take our part so warmly.
“I don’t care,” she said emphatically. “They should have done as you said.”
“I am sure I wish they had,” said Ray fervently.
“As for bringing back the cannons, I think you ought to have the vote of thanks of the whole town instead of being suspended as if you had done something wrong. To think of your going away over to Berkeley and taking the cannons right off their campus! Oh, it was splendid! I got awfully excited while father was telling me about it. If I had been a boy I would have gone along too—and I told father so.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Nettie,” said Ray. “I only hope your father is as generous in his opinion of us as you are.”
Miss Nettie looked at us with an expression of significance.
“To tell the truth,” she said lowering her voice, “I think father enjoyed the story as much as I did, and I believe he admires you for what you did. But don’t let him know that I told you.”
We were considerably relieved to hear this.
“You will find father in the library, I think,” she added. “Come in and I will see.”
The professor was seated at his table when we entered the library, but he rose at once and greeted us with his cordial smile, and a warm clasp of the hand.
“Good morning, boys,” he said. “I half expected to see you this morning. Be seated.”
Miss Nettie here left us with her father, who resumed his chair, while we sat down opposite him. Then there was an awkward pause.
“Well, out with it,” said Professor Fuller at length. “I can easily guess your errand.”
“We have come to see you about our suspension,” said Ray. “We want your advice.”
“Why, what advice can I give you?” he asked. “You have made your own decision. Doesn’t that dispose of the matter?”
“We fear it does,” said Ray, “but we have come to see if there is any hope for us under the circumstances. Is there no possible chance of our obtaining some remittance of this penalty?”
“A chance was offered you, was it not?”
“Yes, sir, but the conditions imposed forced us to decline that chance,” answered Ray.
Professor Fuller’s face was grave but kindly.
“And do you think,” he asked, “that baseball is more important than your success in college?”
“No, sir, by no means,” answered Ray earnestly. “Nor did we intend to give Dr. Drayton that impression. While meaning no disrespect either to Dr. Drayton or the faculty, we cannot help feeling that we were placed in an unfair position. Our penalty was five weeks’ suspension for taking part in the disturbances of night before last. Now, if we deserved five weeks why was it not assigned as our penalty without further question? If we deserved two weeks, why was not that assigned? But this baseball matter was dragged in to influence the question. What has our playing baseball to do with the question as to whether our penalty for a misdemeanor shall be five or two weeks? Playing baseball is not a misdemeanor. We felt that our penalty should be assigned simply on our behavior in this case, without being conditioned upon outside matters that have nothing to do with it. We feel that Dr. Drayton has taken advantage of our helpless position to force us into giving up baseball. Our parents do not object to our playing, and we do not see why we should be compelled to make such a choice as was offered us. This is what we think is not fair.”
Ray had grown bolder as he continued, so that, by the time he finished, I feared Professor Fuller would be angry. The latter, however, was quite calm, and listened quietly with folded hands.
When Ray ceased speaking he said:
“Of course, boys, you know that, however much I may sympathize with you, I must speak, as a member of the faculty. But I appreciate the whole weight of what you say, and am sure that you believe that you are doing what is right under the circumstances. I can easily understand your making such a choice, considering the manner in which the matter was presented to you, and I do not wonder at your feelings at the present moment. I will be frank enough to say that the proposition was Dr. Drayton’s and that he carried the matter through. The penalty that would have been assigned under ordinary circumstances was five weeks’ suspension. We took into consideration, however, the many mitigating circumstances in your case, and we were inclined to lessen the sentence greatly. It was then that Dr. Drayton bethought him of this condition. I will not say anything about the matter further than that it was Dr. Drayton’s action entirely. As he was earnestly bent upon your accepting this condition, I can easily understand why your choice should have annoyed him.”
“And is it hopeless?” I asked anxiously.
“That is a question I do not like to answer directly,” said Professor Fuller, smiling. “What would become of the college if the boys should look to me to reverse the decisions of the faculty? I have no such power, you know, nor should I want it. I would be in hot water all the time. I will say this much, however: that I sympathize with you heartily, and that I will see if anything can be done.”
“That is the most we expected,” put in Ray, his face brightening.
“Don’t expect too much,” said the professor. “All that I can do is to see Dr. Drayton and talk the matter over with him. The whole question rests with him, and his authority alone will decide it. The rest of the faculty would be willing enough to relinquish the condition. What my interview with Dr. Drayton will result in remains to be seen. He is a man of strong convictions, as you know, and apt to be especially set in his way when seriously annoyed.”
“I am afraid he is very angry,” said I.
“No doubt of it; still there isn’t a better man at heart to be found than Dr. Drayton, and you can expect justice. I speak from long experience, for I knew him as a classmate years ago, and I have lived close to him the greater part of my life. I will bring the matter up in a few days, when I think the annoyance will have passed away. Meantime what are you going to do?”
“We will move out into town temporarily,” I answered. “Of course we cannot attend recitations, nor go upon the college grounds, but we must stay here at Belmont for the sake of the ball nine if for nothing else.”
“It will be best for you to stay for several reasons,” said the professor. “Have you written to your parents about the matter?”
“No, sir.”
“Better do so at once, and so anticipate the formal notification which Mr. Dikes will have to send them. Tell your story in full, and then, when the notification comes, your parents will understand it. Now as to your studies. I suppose you intend to keep abreast of your classes?”
“We would like to,” answered Ray, “but we feared that we would be unable to do so without the privilege of attending lectures.”
“Not at all,” said the professor. “Let some one of your classmates bring you his written notes to copy each day. You can get Mr. Dikes to tutor you. He does that sort of work frequently. I strongly advise this for your own good, and because I know that the fact that you are conscientiously working to keep up with your classes will influence Dr. Drayton in your favor.”
This suggestion we caught at gladly. Under Professor Fuller’s encouraging words, the affair was rapidly taking on a more cheerful aspect. We continued to talk the matter over for some time longer, and when at length we rose to go, it was with hearts considerably lightened.
“I don’t know how we can thank you for your kindness,” said Ray earnestly, as we stood by the door.
“Why, I have done nothing as yet but talk,” answered the professor, smiling. “Wait a few days, and we’ll see what can be done. However it may turn out, don’t be discouraged. Make the best of it, work hard and you need not be despondent.”
Once more shaking us warmly by the hand, he bade us good morning, and returned to his library, while we hastened over to the college to make preparations for our change of quarters.