Page:The plastic age, (IA plasticage00mark).pdf/60

Rh him the absurdity of the situation: a big fellow like Morse blubbering, bawling for home and mother!

“You can’t know,” Morse went on, “how awful it is—awful! I want to cry all the time. I can’t listen in classes. A prof asked me a question to¬ day, and I did n’t know what he had been talking about. He asked me what he had said. I had to say I did n’t know. The whole class laughed, and the prof asked me why I had come to college. God! I nearly died.”

Hugh’s sympathy was all captured again. He knew that he would die if he ever made a fool of himself in the class-room.

“Gosh!” he exclaimed. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. I could n’t think of anything. For a minute I thought that my head was going to bust. He quit razzing me and I tried to pay attention, but I couldn’t; all I could do was think of home. Lord! I wish I was there!” He mopped at his eyes and paced up and down the room nervously.

“Oh, you ’ll get over that,” Hugh said comfort¬ ingly. “Pretty soon you ’ll get to know lots of fellows, and then you won’t mind about home.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but it don’t work. I can’t eat or sleep. I can’t study. I can’t do anything. I tell you I’ve got to go home. I’ve got to!” This last with desperate emphasis.

Hugh smiled.

“You ’re all wrong,” he asserted