Page:Dave Porter at Oak Hall.djvu/265

Rh "His percentages speak for themselves," said Caspar Potts, proudly. "I don't see how they could be much better."

The old professor had improved greatly in health. He was anxious to get to work, or begin teaching again, but Oliver Wadsworth would not hear of it.

"You must rest this winter," said the manufacturer. "Then, next season, you can do as you please."

That evening there was quite a gathering at the house, including the Basswoods, who came with Ben, and the party lasted until nearly midnight. Dave was introduced to many people of Crumville he had never before met, and all treated him cordially.

"You must write me a letter every week, Dave," said Jessie, on parting. "Tell me about all you are doing."

"I can't tell you all that, Jessie," he answered. "I'll write whenever I have anything interesting," and he did.

Autumn was now a thing of the past, and erelong winter began to set in around Oak Hall. The oaks were bare of leaves, and the cold blasts sighed mournfully through the branches. Football came to an end, and so did rowing, and the students began to look forward to snow and skating.

"Last year we had great sport in the snow," said