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Page 2
"What's he afraid of?"
"Everything and everybody, I guess. Poor chap."
Will Phelps laughed good-naturedly as he spoke, and it was evident that
his sympathy for "Peter John" was genuine. His friend and room-mate,
Foster Bennett, was as sympathetic as he, though his manner was more
quiet and his words were fewer; their fears for their friend were
evidently based upon their own personal knowledge.
For four years the three young men had been classmates in the Sterling
High School, and in the preceding June had graduated from its course of
study, and all three had decided to enter Winthrop College. The entrance
examinations had been successfully passed, and at the time when this
story opens all had been duly registered as students in the incoming
class of the college.
Foster Bennett and Will Phelps were to be room-mates, and for several
days previous to the September day on which the conversation already
recorded had taken place they had been in the little college town,
arranging their various belongings in the room in Perry Hall, one of the
best of all the dormitory buildings. The first assembling of the college
students was to occur on the morrow, and then the real life upon which
they were about to enter was to begin.
The two boys had come to Winthrop together, the parents of both having
decided that it was better to throw the young students at once upon
their own resources rather than to accompany them, reserving their
visits for a later time when the first novelty of the new life would be
gone.
And on this September day the novelty certainly was the most prominent
element in the thoughts of both boys. The task of arranging their
various belongings in their new rooms had kept both so busy that
thoughts of the homes they had left were of necessity somewhat rare, and
the vision of the family life in which they had been so vital a part had
not as yet come to take the place in their minds which it soon would
occupy.
At the hotel where they had been staying there were many other boys who
were in a predicament not unlike their own, but the very fact that all
were alike new to the life and its surroundings had made every one
somewhat diffident and the warm friendships and cordial relations that
soon were to be formed were as yet not begun.
Will Phelps and Foster Bennett, however, had been so completely taken up
with their own immediate tasks that they had little thought for other
things. At the time when this story opens their study room was ready for
callers, as Will expressed it, and the adjoining sleeping rooms were in
a fair way for occupancy. Indeed, the boys planned that very night to
sleep in the dormitory, and the experience was looked forward to as one
which they both would enjoy.
Will Phelps, a sturdy young fellow of eighteen, of medium height, with
strong body and a bright, keen expression in his dark eyes, had been the
most popular of all the boys in the high school from which he had
recently graduated. Not over-fond of study, he had somewhat neglected
his tasks until his final year, and though he had then begun to work
more seriously, his late effort had not entirely atoned for the neglect
of the preceding years. An only son and not rigidly trained in his home,
he had not formed the habits of study which his more serious-minded
room-mate, Foster Bennett, possessed. But almost every one who met the
young student was drawn to him by the fascination of his winning ways,
and realized at once the latent possibilities for good or ill that were
his. His success would depend much upon his surroundings, and though
Will was sublimely confident in his ability to meet and master whatever
opposed him, it nevertheless had been a source of deep satisfaction to
his father and mother that he was to room with his classmate, Foster
Bennett, for Foster was of a much more sedate disposition than his
friend. Taller than Will by three inches, as fond as he of certain
athletic sports, still Foster was one whom enthusiasm never carried away
nor impulse controlled. When people spoke of him they often used the
word "steady" to describe him. Not so quick nor so brilliant as Will, he
was not able to arouse the response which his room-mate seldom failed to
elicit, nor was his promise in certain ways so great. Will might do
brilliant things, but of Foster it was said that 'one always knew where
to find him.' Naturally, the two boys in a measure complemented each
other, and their friendship was strong and lasting.
Peter John Schenck--no one ever thought of referring to him by another
term than "Peter John"--the third member of the high-school class to
which reference has already been made, was a boy who every morning had
driven into the little city of Sterling from his country home, and in
his general appearance was decidedly unlike either of his classmates.
The influences of his home had been of a different character from those
which had surrounded his two friends. Not that the love for him had been
less, but certain elements of refinement had been lacking and his
familiarity with the ways of the world was much less. Besides, his
father had been in humbler circumstances, and Peter John was to room in
college in Leland Hall, one of the oldest of the dormitories, where the
room rent was much less than in Perry Hall and more in accord with
Peter John's pocket. In school he had been made the butt of many a joke,
but his fund of good nature had never rebelled and his persistence was
never broken. Tall, ungainly, his trousers seemed to be in a perpetual
effort to withdraw as far as possible from his boots, while his hands
and wrists apparently were continually striving to evade the extremities
of his coat sleeves. His face was freckled, not the ordinary freckles
produced by the heat of the sun, but huge splotches that in color almost
matched his auburn-tinted hair--at least his sister was prone to declare
that the color of his hair was "auburn," though his less reverent
schoolmates were accustomed to refer to him as a "brick-top."
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