"You fellows are pretty well fixed here,"he went on,undismayed,gazing about a room which had seemed to us the abomination of desolation."Your folks must be rich.I'm up under the skylight."Even this failed to touch us.His father--he told us with undiminished candour--had been a German emigrant who had come over in '49,after the cause of liberty had been lost in the old country,and made eye-glasses and opera glasses.There hadn't been a fortune in it.He,Hermann,had worked at various occupations in the summer time,from peddling to farming,until he had saved enough to start him at Harvard.Tom,who had been bending over his bureau drawer,straightened up.
"What did you want to come here for?"he demanded.
"Say,what did you?"Mr.Krebs retorted genially."To get an education,of course.""An education!"echoed Tom.
"Isn't Harvard the oldest and best seat of learning in America,?"There was an exaltation in Krebs's voice that arrested my attention,and made me look at him again.A troubled chord had been struck within me.
"Sure,"said Tom.
"What did you come for?"Mr.Krebs persisted.
"To sow my wild oats,"said Tom."I expect to have something of a crop,too."For some reason I could not fathom,it suddenly seemed to dawn on Mr.
Krebs,as a result of this statement,that he wasn't wanted.
"Well,so long,"he said,with a new dignity that curiously belied the informality of his farewell.
An interval of silence followed his departure.
"Well,he's got a crust!"said Tom,at last.
My own feeling about Mr.Krebs had become more complicated;but I took my cue from Tom,who dealt with situations simply.
"He'll come in for a few knockouts,"he declared."Here's to old Harvard,the greatest institution of learning in America!Oh,gee!"Our visitor,at least,made us temporarily forget our homesickness,but it returned with redoubled intensity when we had put out the lights and gone to bed.
Before we had left home it had been mildly hinted to us by Ralph and Perry Blackwood that scholarly eminence was not absolutely necessary to one's welfare and happiness at Cambridge.The hint had been somewhat superfluous;but the question remained,what was necessary?With a view of getting some light on this delicate subject we paid a visit the next evening to our former friends and schoolmates,whose advice was conveyed with a masterly circumlocution that impressed us both.There are some things that may not be discussed directly,and the conduct of life at a modern university--which is a reflection of life in the greater world--is one of these.Perry Blackwood and Ham did most of the talking,while Ralph,characteristically,lay at full length on the window-seat,interrupting with an occasional terse and cynical remark very much to the point.As a sophomore,he in particular seemed lifted immeasurably above us,for he was--as might have been expected already a marked man in his class.The rooms which he shared with his cousin made a tremendous impression on Tom and me,and seemed palatial in comparison to our quarters at Mrs.Bolton's,eloquent of the ******* and luxury of undergraduate existence;their note,perhaps,was struck by the profusion of gay sofa pillows,then something of an innovation.The heavy,expensive furniture was of a pattern new to me;and on the mantel were three or four photographs of ladies in the alluring costume of the musical stage,in which Tom evinced a particular interest.
"Did grandfather send 'em?"he inquired.
"They're Ham's,"said Ralph,and he contrived somehow to get into those two words an epitome of his cousin's character.Ham was stouter,and his clothes were more striking,more obviously expensive than ever....On our way homeward,after we had walked a block or two in silence,Tom exclaimed:--"Don't make friends with the friendless!--eh,Hughie?We knew enough to begin all right,didn't we?"...
Have I made us out a pair of deliberate,calculating snobs?Well,after all it must be remembered that our bringing up had not been of sufficient liberality to include the Krebses of this world.We did not,indeed,spend much time in choosing and weighing those whom we should know and those whom we should avoid;and before the first term of that Freshman year was over Tom had become a favourite.He had the gift of ****** men feel that he delighted in their society,that he wished for nothing better than to sit for hours in their company,content to listen to the arguments that raged about him.Once in a while he would make a droll observation that was greeted with fits of laughter.He was always referred to as "old Tom,"or "good old Tom";presently,when he began to pick out chords on the banjo,it was discovered that he had a good tenor voice,though he could not always be induced to sing....Somewhat to the jeopardy of the academic standard that my father expected me to sustain,our rooms became a rendezvous for many clubable souls whose maudlin,midnight attempts at harmony often set the cocks crowing.
"Free from care and despair,What care we?
'Tis wine,'tis wine That makes the jollity."As a matter of truth,on these occasions it was more often beer;beer transported thither in Tom's new valise,--given him by his mother,--and stuffed with snow to keep the bottles cold.Sometimes Granite Face,adorned in a sky-blue wrapper,would suddenly appear in the doorway to declare that we were a disgrace to her respectable house:the university authorities should be informed,etc.,etc.Poor woman,we were outrageously inconsiderate of her....One evening as we came through the hall we caught a glimpse in the dimly lighted parlour of a young man holding a shy and pale little girl on his lap,Annie,Mrs.Bolton's daughter:on the face of our landlady was an expression I had never seen there,like a light.I should scarcely have known her.Tom and I paused at the foot of the stairs.He clutched my arm.
"Darned if it wasn't our friend Krebs!"he whispered.
