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Page 22
The college work had now begun to settle into its regular grooves and
when another week had elapsed, Will and Foster began to feel that the
spirit of their surroundings had to an extent been received by them and
that they were indeed a part of the life. There were moments now that
came to Will, when do what he might he could not banish from his mind
the thought of the home in Sterling of which practically he was no
longer a part. The vision of his father seated in his easy-chair in the
library of an evening, before the fire that glowed upon the hearth, his
paper in his hands and the very manner in which he occasionally glanced
up and read to his mother something he had noticed seemed to be one that
Will could not shake off. The pictures on the walls, the very rugs on
the floor, and the chairs in the room could all be distinctly seen, and
somehow the sight never failed to bring a certain depression with it.
Will Phelps would indignantly have denied that he was homesick, but as
the days came and went his manner became somewhat subdued and when he
rose from his bed in the early morning and peered forth from his
bedroom window at the towering hills that were all aglow with the glory
of the rising sun, somehow their very beauty and grandeur seemed to
deepen his feeling that he was "a good way off," as he expressed it,
though just what it was that was so far away he could only have vaguely
expressed or defined. Doubtless his room-mate could have explained to
him that it was the little city of Sterling that now seemed to be so
remote, for he too was suffering slightly from the same malady that
troubled his friend.
Why is it that most boys are so afraid to acknowledge that they are ever
homesick? Is it the fear that they may appear too dependent and less
manly if they confess their longing for home? Certainly no boy who comes
from a good home detracts from his own strength of character by
acknowledging that he misses the home from which he has gone. Indeed, is
it not a reflection upon the boy and the home alike, if he declares when
he goes from his father's house that he misses nothing? To yield to the
feeling of homesickness, to permit it to overmaster one and prevent him
from performing his tasks in the place wherein he finds himself may be a
confession of weakness, but to suffer nothing from it is to declare a
weakness or defect greater still. And Will Phelps, though he was silent
as to his own feelings, was suffering keenly in the early days of his
life in Winthrop.
A week had elapsed since the events recorded in the preceding chapter
and Will and Foster were studying busily in their rooms one evening,
striving to hold their wearied minds to their work, for there had been
an unexpected written test that day in their Greek and both were
somewhat anxious as to the results of their efforts.
Suddenly the door opened and in walked Peter John, who had already
acquired the collegiate habit of never inquiring if his presence was
welcome in the room into which he came. His face was beaming and it was
at once evident to both Will and Foster that their classmate had
something of importance to declare.
"How'd you get along in the test to-day, fellows?" was Peter John's
first question.
"Not very well," replied Will, motioning for his visitor to be seated.
"I just killed it."
Will and Foster laughed as they heard Peter John already indulging in
college slang. It seemed so out of keeping with his general bearing and
appearance. The gap between his trousers and his shoes had never been so
apparent, his splotches so vivid, nor his hair so belligerent as now.
"There's that question, 'Who were the mercenaries of the Greeks, and
what was a mercenary?' I got that right, I know I did."
"How did you answer it?" inquired Foster.
"Why, I said 'a mercenary was a man that sold himself to some one,' and
I showed what I meant by illustrating it."
"How?"
"I said the professors were the mercenaries of the college."
"You did?" exclaimed Will, sitting instantly erect.
"Yes, sir; I did. What's the matter?" he added, as both boys began to
laugh loudly. "Isn't it true?"
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