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Amory, Son of Beatrice
Miserable,confinedtobounds,unpopularwithbothfacultyandstudents—thatwasAmory’sfirstterm.ButatChristmashehadreturnedtoMinneapolis,tight-lippedandstrangelyjubilant.
"Oh,Iwassortoffreshatfirst,"hetoldFrogParkerpatronizingly,"butIgotalongfine—lightestmanonthesquad.Yououghttogoawaytoschool,Froggy.It’sgreatstuff."
INCIDENTOFTHEWELL-MEANINGPROFESSOR
Onthelastnightofhisfirstterm,Mr.Margotson,theseniormaster,sentwordtostudyhallthatAmorywastocometohisroomatnine.Amorysuspectedthatadvicewasforthcoming,buthedeterminedtobecourteous,becausethisMr.Margotsonhadbeenkindlydisposedtowardhim.
Hissummonerreceivedhimgravely,andmotionedhimtoachair.Hehemmedseveraltimesandlookedconsciouslykind,asamanwillwhenheknowshe’sondelicateground.
"Amory,"hebegan."I’vesentforyouonapersonalmatter."
"Yes,sir."
"I’venoticedyouthisyearandI—Ilikeyou.Ithinkyouhaveinyouthemakingsofa—averygoodman."
"Yes,sir,"Amorymanagedtoarticulate.Hehatedhavingpeopletalkasifhewereanadmittedfailure.
"ButI’venoticed,"continuedtheoldermanblindly,"thatyou’renotverypopularwiththeboys."
"No,sir."Amorylickedhislips.
"Ah—Ithoughtyoumightnotunderstandexactlywhatitwasthey—ah—objectedto.I’mgoingtotellyou,becauseIbelieve—ah—thatwhenaboyknowshisdifficultieshe’sbetterabletocopewiththem—toconformtowhatothersexpectofhim.