Page 25 - The Adventures of a Freshman

But Channing was one of these small men that love to get power over big men; he loved to haze and he hated
to have anyone call him little or mouthy, and Young had called him both. The next night he and Ballard, who,
as will be seen later, had much of the bully in him, would bring around a different crowd and Channing would
take out his pipe, shake it at Young and say to the others, "Now this old jay Deacon is innocent and meek
enough to look at, but he is atrociously fresh at bottom--isn't he, Bally, you old horse?"

Young said nothing and took his hazing cheerfully and patiently, hoping they would soon get tired of it.

"I suppose," he said to himself, as he hurried back to his room to work until past midnight, in order to make
up for lost time. "I suppose I must be very fresh, or they would not keep it up so long. I did not know I was so
fresh."

But he told himself that if he were only well liked by his own classmates as he had expected to be, he would
not care what his enemies thought of him. That he had not sprung into popularity, he decided, was due to that
painful occurrence at his first recitation. It made him flush to think of it even now.

It was on the morning after the rush and after the Sophomores had been turned out of his room. He went in to
the Livy recitation for which he had prepared himself so thoroughly--he went over it four and a half times,
you may remember--and took his seat, feeling strong and confident, and, "Mr. Young, please to translate,"
said the professor, before the class was hardly settled in its seats.

It was in a low voice. Young was in the back of the room. He was not dreaming of being called upon first
anyway, and he wondered why the fellow next to him was nudging him with an elbow. Young turned and
looked at him inquiringly.

"Get up," whispered the man.

"What for?" whispered Young.

"Isn't Mr. Young present?" said the professor in a tone loud and clear, and Young fairly jumped out of his
seat, exclaiming, "Yes, marm--yes, sir, I mean."

He added it quickly but it was too late. Everyone had heard and everyone was laughing, and even the
professor joined in, though he did not mean it unkindly, and then they all laughed still more. The walls fairly
echoed with it. Even after the professor had rapped for order and the laughter had quieted down, someone in
the front row tittered and that set them all off again. A new class is always somewhat hysterical. Some of
those in the front rows turned and stared at him in their laughter.

It was a natural mistake. This freshman had prepared for college at a high school, and most of the High School
teachers were women. Young should have joined in the laughter, but he only stood there, scarlet and
serious-looking and wishing he could disappear forever.

Finally the professor said, kindly, "Now then, Mr. Young."

But Mr. Young was confused, and though he had been over the passage until he had it nearly by heart, he now
became all tangled up and excited and finally took his seat dripping with perspiration and wishing he had
never come to college. Instead of being perfect his first college recitation was a flat failure. But the professor
did not count this failure against him because he saw that the fellow was rattled and because the next time he
came in he made the best recitation of the day.

But that was not the trouble. The fellows would not forget it and would not let up on it. "Thank you, marm,"
they whispered as he arose to recite, and "Thank you, marm," they shouted to him on the crowded campus.