hard
too. Today I didn't do very well, but I was so excited about the fever,
for Peter John--I mean Schenck--is one of the fellows to come down with
it, you know, and we've been telephoning and telegraphing home--"

"Ah, yes. But you heard my remarks to-day concerning the necessity of
increased work in Greek as a preventive, did you not?"

"I did. But, professor, I'm willing to work. If I'm to be shut out of
the exam--I mean the examination--as you seem to think I will, anyway, I
don't see any use in my trying any more."

The expression on the professor's face became instantly harder as he
said, "I fawncy the effort to curry favor with the various members of
the faculty is not very popular with the student body."

"Do you think I'm trying to 'boot-lick'?" demanded Will quickly.

"I look upon that term as somewhat objectionable, but I fawncy in the
vernacular of college life it is one that is quite expressive."

"I'm not trying to boot-lick you or any other professor!" retorted Will,
now feeling angry and insulted as well. "I didn't stay here to-day
because I wanted to. You yourself asked me to do it. And I asked you a
perfectly fair question. I knew I hadn't been doing very well, but after
I saw you I've been trying, honestly trying, to do better. And all the
encouragement you give me is to say that if I work harder I may almost
come up to the passing mark."

"Pardon me, Mr. Phelps, but you are the one to change your record, not
I. All I do is merely to jot down what you have been doing. I do not do
the work--I merely record it."

For a moment Will Phelps was almost speechless with anger. He felt
outraged and insulted in every fibre of his being. He hastily bade the
professor good-morning, and, seizing his cap, rushed for his room, a
great fear being upon him that unless he instantly departed he would say
or do something for which he would have a lifelong regret.

As he burst into his room he found Foster already there, and, flinging
his books savagely across the room, Will seated himself in his
easy-chair and glared at his room-mate.

"Why? What's wrong? What's happened, Will?" demanded Foster, in
astonishment.

"Oh, I've just had another delightful interview with old Splinter. He's
the worst I ever struck yet!"

"Did you strike him, Will?" inquired Foster, a smile of amusement
appearing on his face.

"No, but I'd like to! His soul would get lost in the eye of a needle!
He's the smallest specimen I hav