al to
research success. I wonder why an undergraduate has to be a fool?"

"I'm not a fool," contradicted Hallock flatly.

"Any man's a fool who's working his way through college and fails to get
the most he can out of every course offered him. I know, because I
worked my way through my last two years, neglected my German and had to
make it up after I graduated. That thesis will make or mar you as far as
your first job goes. Who'd you have your second year German with? If I
were you, I'd take a semester of it over again."

"I'd rather never get a diploma than go back to old Rosenthal."

"Mr. Rosenthal," corrected Roger sharply. "Speak respectfully of an
instructor."

"Aw," exclaimed Hallock, now evidently angry, "why should I speak
respectfully of a beer-guzzling Dutchman who sneers at the girls in the
class every time they recite?"

There was sudden silence in the room. Hallock was evidently relieving an
accumulation of irritation. "If I had been Miss Anderson this morning
I'd have slapped his fat face for him."

"Be careful, Hallock! I can't permit you to talk this way to me about a
member of the faculty."

"Then you're no better than he!" shouted Hallock. "The damned Dutch run
this college and I'm sick of it."

There was a sudden murmur of agreement from the highly edified audience
now grouped behind Hallock. This was an old sore that had existed in
Roger's own days under Rosenthal.

"Pshaw, I know all about Mr. Rosenthal's peccadillos, Hallock," he said.
"But he's a teacher and scholar of the first water. Girls always take
general remarks personally. Miss Anderson had better forget it, whatever
it was. Girl hysteria, probably."

Hallock suddenly began to cry with rage. "Hysteria, damn you, don't you
insult her too!" Then, as an angry sneer appeared on Roger's face, he
unexpectedly leaned over the table and punched Roger on the nose.

Roger vaulted over the table and with a rapid clip laid Hallock flat.
The boy was on his feet in a moment, crying, but game. The edified
audience held the two apart.

"You don't know what the Dutch slob said! You don't know," sobbed
Hallock.

Roger did not speak. In fact he could not. He stood white and trembling
for some time, a scarlet trickle of blood running from one nostril. His
struggle for control was so obvious that even Hallock perceived it and
was silent. With the other lads he stood in embarrassment while the
laboratory clock ticked and the end of the winter