For a moment little Theophilus, his big-rimmed spectacles
falling off as fast as he replaced them, and his puny
frame tense with excitement, hesitated. Sitting
on the extreme edge of the chair, he surveyed his
comrades solemnly and was convinced that they were
in earnest. Then, “I—I will
try, sir!” exclaimed Theophilus,
who would never forget his Freshman training.
“I’m sure Hicks, or somebody,
could do It better than I; but—I’ll
try!”
THEOPHILUS’ MISSIONARY WORK
“College ties can ne’er be
broken—
Loyal will remain each heart;
Though the last farewell be spoken—
And from Bannister we part!
“Bannister, Bannister, hail, all
hail!
Echoes softly from each heart;
We’ll be ever loyal to thee—
Till we from life shall part!”
Theophilus Opperdyke, the timorous, intensely studious
Human Encyclopedia, stood at the window of John Thorwald’s
study room. That behemoth, desiring quiet, had
moved his study-table and chair to a vacant room across
the second-floor corridor of Creighton, the Freshman
dormitory, when the Bannister youths cheered him,
and he was still there, so that Theophilus, on his
mission, had finally located him by his low rumblings,
as he laboriously read out his Latin. The little
Senior was gazing across the brightly lighted Quadrangle.
He could see into the rooms of the other class dormitories,
where the students studied, skylarked, rough-housed,
or conversed on innumerable topics; from a room in
Nordyke, the abode of care-free Juniors, a splendidly
blended sextette sang songs of their Alma Mater, and
their rich voices drifted across the Quad. to Thor
and Theophilus:
“Though thy halls we leave forever
Sadly from the campus turn;
Yet our love shall fail thee never
For old Bannister we’ll yearn!
Bannister, Bannister, hail,
all hail!”
Theophilus turned from the window, and looked despairingly
at that young Colossus, Thor. The behemoth Norwegian,
oblivious to everything except the geometry problem
now causing him to sweat, rested his massive head on
his palms, elbows on the study-table, and was lost
in the intricate labyrinth of “Let the line
ABC equal the line BVD.” The frail chair
creaked under his ponderous bulk. On the table
lay an unopened letter that had come in the night’s
mail, for, tackling one problem, the bulldog Hercules
never let go his grip until he solved it, and nothing
else, not even Theophilus, could secure his attention.
Hence the Human Encyclopedia, trembling at the terrific
importance of the mission entrusted to him, waited,
thrilled by the Juniors’ songs, which failed
to penetrate Thor’s mind.
“Oh, what can I do?” breathed
Theophilus, sitting down nervously on the edge of
a chair and peering owlishly over his big-rimmed spectacles
at the stolid John Thorwald. “I am sure
that, in time, I can help Thor to—to know
campus life better; but—tomorrow
is his last chance! He will be dropped from the
squad, unless—”
