The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best mobile ebook reader .txt) 📖
- Author: Percy Marks
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Was Sure That He Wouldn'T Be Able To Say "Here" When It Came His Turn,
And He Could Feel His Heart Pounding In dreadful Anticipation.
"Carver, H.M."
"Here!"
Chapter 3 Part 17
There! It Was Out! Or Had He Really Said It?
He Looked At The Professor In Terror, But Kane Was Already Calling,
"Dana, R.T." Hugh Sank Back In His Chair; He Was Trembling.
Kane Announced The Text-Book, And When Hugh Caught The Word
"Trigonometry" He Actually Thrilled With Joy. He Had Had Trig In High
School. Whoops! Would He Hit Math I In The Eye? He'D Knock It For A
Goal.... Then Conscience Spoke. Oughtn'T He To Tell Kane That He Had
Already Had Trig? He Guessed Quite Rightly That Kane Had Not Understood
His High-School Credentials, Which Had Given Him Credit For "Advanced
Mathematics." Kane Had Taken It For Granted That That Was Advanced
Algebra. Hugh Felt That He Ought To Explain The Mistake, But Fear Of The
Arid, Impersonal Man Restrained Him. Kane Had Told Him To Take Math I;
And Kane Was Law.
Unlike Most Of Hugh'S Instructors, Kane Kept The Class The Full Hour The
First Day, Seating Them In alphabetical Order--He Had To Repeat The
Performance Three Times During The Week As New Men Entered The
Class--Lecturing Them On The Need Of Doing Their Problems Carefully And
Accurately, And Discoursing On The Value Of Mathematics, Trigonometry In
Particular, In The Study Of Science And Engineering. Hugh Was Not
Interested In Science, Engineering, Or Mathematics, But He Listened
Carefully, Trying Hard To Follow Kane'S Cold Discourse. At The End Of
The Hour He Told His Neighbor As They Left The Room That He Guessed That
Professor Kane Knew An Awful Lot, And His Neighbor Agreed With Him.
Hugh'S Other Instructors Proved Less Impressive Than Kane; In Fact, Mr.
Alling, The Instructor In Latin, Was Altogether Disconcerting.
"Plautus," He Told The Class, "Wrote Comedies, Farces--Not Exercises In
Translation. He Was Also, My Innocents, Occasionally Naughty--Oh, Really
Naughty. What'S Worse, He Used Slang, Common Every-Day Slang--The Kind
Of Stuff That You And I Talk. Now, I Have An Excellent Vocabulary Of
Slang, Obscenity, And Profanity; And You Are Going To Hear Most Of It.
Think Of The Opportunity. Don'T Think That I Mean Just 'Damn' And
'Hell.' They Are Good For A Laugh In a Theater Any Day, But Plautus Was
Not Restrained By Our Modern Conventions. _You_ Will Confine Yourselves,
Please, To English Undefiled, But I Shall Speak The Modern Equivalent To
A Roman Gutter-Pup'S Language Whenever Necessary. You Will Find This
Course Very Illuminating--In Some Ways. And, Who Knows? You May Learn
Something Not Only About Latin But About Rome."
Hugh Thought Mr. Alling Was Rather Flippant And Lacking In dignity.
Professor Kane Was More Like A College Teacher. Before The Term Was Out
He Hated Kane With An Intensity That Astonished Him, And He Looked
Forward To His Latin Classes With An Eagerness Of Which He Was Almost
Ashamed. Plautus In The Alling Free And Colloquial Translations Was
Enormously Funny.
Professor Hartley, Who Gave The History Lectures, Talked In a Bass
Monotone And Never Seemed To Pause For Breath. His Words Came In a Slow
Steady Stream That Never Rose Nor Fell Nor Paused--Until The Bell Rang.
The Men In The Back Of The Room Slept. Hugh Was Seated Near The Front;
Chapter 3 Part 18So He Drew Pictures In His Note-Book. The English Instructor Talked
About Punctuation As If It Were Very Unpleasant But Almost Religiously
Important; And What The Various Lecturers In General Science Talked
About--Ten Men Gave The Course--Hugh Never Knew. In after Years All That
He Could Remember About The Course Was That One Man Spoke Broken English
And That A Professor Of Physics Had Made Huge Bulbs Glow With Marvelous
Colors.
Hugh Had One Terrifying Experience Before He Finally Got Settled To His
Work. It Occurred The Second Day Of Classes. He Was Comfortably Seated
In What He Thought Was His English Class--He Had Come In Just As The
Bell Rang--When The Instructor Announced That It Was A Class In French.
What Was He To Do? What Would The Instructor Do If He Got Up And Left
The Room? What Would Happen If He Didn'T Report At His English Class?
What Would Happen To Him For Coming Into His English Class Late? These
Questions Staggered His Mind. He Was Afraid To Stay In The French Class.
Cautiously He Got Up And Began To Tiptoe To The Door.
"Wrong Room?" The Instructor Asked Pleasantly.
Hugh Flushed. "Yes, Sir." He Stopped Dead Still, Not Knowing What To Do
Next.
He Was A Typical Rattled Freshman, And The Class, Which Was Composed Of
Sophomores, Laughed. Hugh, Angry And Humiliated, Started For The Door,
But The Instructor Held Up A Hand That Silenced The Class; Then He
Motioned For Hugh To Come To His Desk.
"What Class Are You Looking For?"
"English One, Sir, Section Seven." He Held Out His Schedule Card,
Reassured By The Instructor'S Kindly Manner.
The Instructor Looked At The Card And Then Consulted A Printed Schedule.
"Oh," He Said, "Your Adviser Made A Mistake. He Got You Into The Wrong
Group List. You Belong In Sanders Six."
"Thank You, Sir." Hugh Spoke So Softly That The Waiting Class Did Not
Hear Him, But The Instructor Smiled At The Intensity Of His Thanks. As
He Left The Room, He Knew That Every One Was Looking At Him; His Legs
Felt As If They Were Made Of Wood. It Wasn'T Until He Had Closed The
Door That His Knee-Joints Worked Naturally. But The Worst Was Still
Ahead Of Him. He Had To Go To His English Class In Sanders 6. He Ran
Across The Campus, His Heart Beating Wildly, His Hands Desperately
Clenched. When He Reached Sanders 6, He Found Three Other Freshmen
Grouped Before The Door.
"Is This English One, Section Seven?" One Asked Tremulously.
"I Think So," Whispered The Second. "Do You Know?" He Asked, Turning To
Hugh.
"Yes; I Am Almost Sure."
They Stood There Looking At Each Other, No One Quite Daring To Enter
Sanders 6, No One Quite Daring To Leave. Suddenly The Front Door Of The
Building Slammed. A Bareheaded Youth Rushed Up The Stairs. He Was A
Chapter 3 Part 19Repeater; That Is, A Man Who Had Failed The Course The Preceding Year
And Was Taking It Over Again. He Brushed By The Scared Freshmen, Opened
The Door, And Strode Into Sanders 6, Closing The Door Behind Him.
The Freshmen Looked At Each Other, And Then The One Nearest The Door
Opened It. The Four Of Them Filed In Silently.
The Class Looked Up. "Sit In The Back Of The Room," Said The Instructor.
And That Was All There Was To That. In His Senior Year Hugh Remembered
The Incident And Wondered At His Terror. He Tried To Remember Why He Had
Been So Badly Frightened. He Couldn'T; There Didn'T Seem To Be Any
Reason At All.
Chapter 4 Part 20
About A Week After The Opening Of College, Hugh Returned To Surrey Hall
One Night Feeling Unusually Virtuous And Happy. He Had Worked
Religiously At The Library Until It Had Closed At Ten, And He Had Been
In The Mood To Study. His Lessons For The Next Day Were All Prepared,
And Prepared Well. He Had Strolled Across The Moon-Lit Campus, Buoyant
And Happy. Some One Was Playing The Organ In The Dark Chapel; He Paused
To Listen. Two Students Passed Him, Humming Softly,
"Sanford, Sanford, Mother Of Men,
Love Us, Guard Us, Hold Us True...."
The Dormitories Were Dim Masses Broken By Rectangles Of Soft Yellow
Light. Somewhere A Banjo Twanged. Another Student Passed.
"Hello, Carver," He Said Pleasantly. "Nice Night."
"Oh, Hello, Jones. It Sure Is."
The Simple Greeting Completed His Happiness. He Felt That He Belonged,
That Sanford, The "Mother Of Men," Had Taken Him To Her Heart. The Music
In The Chapel Swelled, Lyric, Passionate--Up! Up! Almost A Cry. The
Moonlight Was Golden Between The Heavy Shadows Of The Elms. Tears Came
Into The Boy'S Eyes; He Was Melancholy With Joy.
He Climbed The Stairs Of Surrey Slowly, Reluctant To Reach His Room And
Carl'S Flippancy. He Passed An Open Door And Glanced At The Men Inside
The Room.
Chapter 4 Part 21
"Hi, Hugh. Come In and Bull A While."
"Not To-Night, Thanks." He Moved On Down The Hall, Feeling A Vague
Resentment; His Mood Had Been Broken, Shattered.
The Door Opposite His Own Room Was Slightly Open. A Freshman Lived
There, Herbert Morse, A Queer Chap With Whom Carl And Hugh Had Succeeded
In Scraping Up Only The Slightest Acquaintance. He Was A Big Fellow,
Fully Six Feet, Husky And Quick. The Football Coach Said That He Had The
Makings Of A Great Half-Back, But He Had Already Been Fired Off The
Squad Because Of His Irregularity In Reporting For Practice. Except For
What The Boys Called His Stand-Offishness--Some Of Them Said That He Was
Too Damned High-Hat--He Was Extremely Attractive. He Had Red, Almost
Copper-Colored, Hair,
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