Page 6 - The Adventures of a Freshman

twenty-four hours and the tray of his trunk was still unpacked.

It was Wednesday afternoon, the first day of the term, and he was on his way to chapel to attend the opening
exercises of the college year, the first real college duty of his life, and he had almost reached the quadrangle
when he was interrupted by the Sophomores and the disagreeable voice which called, "Hi, there, Freshman,"
at him, and which he thought he would never forget.

And now he went on up the stone walk under the tall elms, wiping his brow and telling himself that he was
not homesick, but that he did not propose to let anybody talk to him that way, even if he was green and from
the country, and he would show them.

He was from the country, to be sure, but that had nothing to do with it. He was guyed because he was a
Freshman.

He was from the country, and he had come here to get a college education, and he had worked hard to come.
He meant to make the best of his opportunities, and you could see that by the energetic way he strode through
the quadrangle and up the broad path to chapel and took his place with two hundred others, who also were
Freshmen and as green, many of them, as he was, and trying just as hard not to show it, though he did not
know that. He thought they were upper-classmen and knew ever so much, and were looking at him.