CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

For the Betterment of the House

Adam all but jumped from the train before it rolled to a stop.  Eagerly scanning the platform outside the depot, he actually did jump when he heard someone call, “Over here, Adam!”  He spun around and his face fell.  Only then did he realize that the voice had been male.

“Well, that’s a fine reward for coming out to meet you,” Lucas scolded.  “If you’re that disappointed to see me, perhaps I should just show you my heels.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Adam said, hurrying forward to greet his friend.  “I was just . . . well . . . thinking you might have been someone . . . different.”

Lucas laughed.  “Someone in lavender and lace, I presume?  Where’s St. James?”

“Here,” Jamie called, struggling toward them, lugging both his and Adam’s carpetbag.

“Oh, sorry,” Adam said, taking his at once.  “I forgot it.”

“Besotted,” Lucas sighed with a roll of his eyes.  “Has he been pining like this the whole month you’ve been away?”

“No,” Adam growled.

“Testy, isn’t he?” Lucas asked.

“Not until now,” Jamie said.  “It must be your agreeable countenance that brings it out.”  He turned to Adam.  “You were expecting her to meet you?”

“Well . . . I suppose,” Adam admitted.  He hadn’t been as faithful to write Elizabeth as he had intended, but they’d led such a quiet life in Springfield that he’d been hard put to find things to say, other than how much he missed her.  Still, he’d written several times, the last letter telling her when he expected to arrive, and judging by her behavior when she saw him off, he had thought that she’d be as eager to see him as he to see her.  Evidently not, he ruefully concluded.

“Never mind, old chum,” Lucas said.  “Her loss, not seeing you in your finery.”

“Looking quite spiffy yourself,” Adam said.  All three freshmen now sported plugs and bangers.  Lucas had told them that it was traditional to don that attire, normally worn by the sophomores, after completing second term exams, so Jamie and Adam had purchased both cane and top hat in Springfield a day or two before leaving.  An extravagance, to be sure, but one necessary to uphold one’s pride in the accomplishment.

“Thanks,” Lucas said, spinning around to show off.  “Come and have a bite at Mory’s and forget that foolish girl for a while.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” Jamie declared, “and I think we can manage the price, right, Adam?”

Adam nodded and then chuckled.  “Maybe if I have another taste of the real thing, I can do a better job of replicating it.”

“Adam made Golden Buck for us in Springfield,” Jamie told Lucas.

“You cook, too, spoopsey?” Lucas twitted.  “There is absolutely no end to your talent, is there?”

“Isn’t Marcus in yet?” Jamie inquired when Adam had jerked Luke’s new top hat down over his nose in retribution.

“He’s here,” Lucas reported, righting his hat, “but he’s got a beastly head cold, so he decided to make an early night of it.”

“Too bad,” Adam said.  He threw an arm around Luke’s shoulders.  “Now, come along and tell us all about your holiday.”  He hooked elbows with Jamie on the other side, and the three headed toward Wooster Street.

* * * * *

            At Jamie’s insistence they stopped by the post office before heading home to George Street.  Having just come from Springfield, he knew there’d be no mail for him, but he insisted that there were surely letters waiting from the Ponderosa.  Feeling guilty after the way he’d neglected his family and friends back in Nevada, Adam almost hoped he was wrong, but there were actually two letters, one from Pa and a second, surprisingly, from Billy Thomas.  Curiosity aroused by that unheard of event, he opened Billy’s letter as soon as they returned to their lodgings.  Scanning the first few lines, he gasped as he sank down on the bed.  “Billy’s married,” he told his roommate.

Jamie paused from his unpacking.  “Oh?  He must have found work, then.”

“What?”  Adam looked up, eyes still dazed.

“The last I recall, you were concerned about what he’d do when the Pony Express closed down,” Jamie explained.  “Surely, he wouldn’t take a wife unless he could support her, so he must have found work.”

“Yeah, I guess he must,” Adam agreed.  “He doesn’t say anything about that, though.  Doesn’t say much, really, except that he’s married and hopes I’ll wish them well.”  He chuckled.  “I do, of course.  I just never thought . . .”

“That he’d settle down?”

Adam shrugged.  “Not this soon . . . and not with her.”  He grinned.  “Don’t know why it should surprise me, though.  Now that I think of it, they’re perfect for each other.”  Realizing that Jamie didn’t know what he was talking about, he added, “It’s Marta, a girl from the wagon train we came west on.  We were all friends, of course, but I thought that was all.  She’s a sweet girl, with just the right amount of spunk to handle Billy.  I’m glad he had sense enough to pick someone like her.”

“Jealous?” Jamie teased as he hung a shirt in their shared wardrobe.

“Of Marta?  No,” Adam chuckled.  “To me, she was always just a friend.”

Jamie turned and grinned at him.  “I meant of the notion of marriage.  Don’t let them give you any ideas.  It’s hard enough to keep you fixed on your studies when darling Elizabeth is in the same town.  The same house would be impossible.”

Adam snatched the pillow from behind him and aimed it perfectly at Jamie’s head.

Jamie ducked just in time.  “What does your father write?” he asked.

“Probably the same news,” Adam said, breaking the seal of his second letter.  He was right, but his father’s letter went into more detail, describing the ceremony, which had taken place at the Ponderosa.  “Odd they’d travel there from Placerville,” he mused.  “Aren’t weddings usually held in the bride’s hometown . . . when they’re not from the same locale, I mean.”

Jamie held up his hands, palms out.  “I have no experience with weddings.  Your father doesn’t explain?”

Adam shook his head.  “No, just tells what it was like, who was there, that sort of thing . . . and . . . he says they’re expecting a baby in September.”

Jamie’s brow wrinkled.  “When did you say they married?”

“Apparently around the middle of March.”  Doing a quick calculation, Adam whistled.  “Well, that might explain why it happened so suddenly.”

“It happens,” Jamie said sympathetically.

“Yeah.”  Adam folded the letter and set it aside.  His father had been discreet, giving only the facts and passing no judgment, but with only six months between the marriage and the anticipated birth, it wasn’t likely that Billy and Marta could pass the baby off as premature.  Others would judge, perhaps harshly, and he wished he could be there to give his friends the support they were likely to need.

* * * * *

            From his place in the choir loft, Adam had a perfect view of all the students rushing into chapel at the last minute.  Apparently reluctant to return to duty after their vacation, the students lagged in more slowly than usual, and the hall was noisier, too, as greetings were exchanged by friends who hadn’t seen one another for an entire month.  The freshmen strutted down the aisles at a snail’s pace, preening like peacocks in their new plugs and bangers, while the upperclassmen pointedly ignored them.  Adam was happy to be back and looking forward to whatever challenges the new term held in both class work and extracurricular activities.

President Woolsey welcomed them and expressed the hope that they felt refreshed and ready to renew their educational pursuits.  Just before beginning his brief sermon, he advised the freshmen that, in lieu of their regular recitation, they should meet in Alumni Hall at noon.  Adam was disappointed, for that meant he’d miss his mathematics recitation today, and he’d been looking forward to beginning his study of the mysterious spherics listed in the catalog.

It was unusual for the entire freshman class to meet together for a recitation.  They filed in and took their seats at the small octagonal desks where they’d sweated through their entrance exams.  Adam remembered how nervous he’d been that day, how fearful that he’d be taking the next train out of New Haven, a complete failure.   Now he sat here completely at ease, eager to experience the next step of his education.  At first, he was surprised to see Professor Thacher enter, for he’d already had his Latin recitation for the day.  Then he remembered another pertinent line from the catalog, and it made sense.

A few groans met Thomas Thacher’s remark that they would be meeting with him every Wednesday at this time for Extempore Latin Composition.  “Now, young gentlemen, how will you ever compose your salutatory address if you do not hone your skills in writing Latin?”  He smiled wryly.  “Or did you all presume you would be the valedictorian and, thus, be able to share your fathomless wisdom in English?”

“Neither one, sir,” Lucas called out.

“You’re an honest man, at least, Mr. Cameron,” the professor said.  Clearing his throat, he added, “As well as a reliable prognosticator of your academic standing.”

The other freshmen laughed.  All of them liked Lucas, but by this time every man had a general idea of the others’ stand in the class, and they all knew that he ranked closer to the bottom than the top.  There were still three years to go until their commencement, but most of them would have laid odds that the valedictorian would be either James Brand, Jamie Edwards or Adam Cartwright.

Following dinner at the Vultures’ Nest, Adam and Jamie stopped by 34 South Middle to purchase their new textbooks, which included a Greek New Testament, the odes of Horace and, of greatest interest to Adam, An Elementary Treatise of Spherical Geometry and Trigonometry by Anthony Stanley, a former professor of mathematics at Yale.  Back in their room, Jamie took one look at it and groaned audibly.  “It’s worse than ancient geography,” he complained.  “At least, I knew what mountains and rivers were.”

Adam shrugged.  “You know what spheres are, too, and I’m sure by the end of term all these definitions will make sense, as well.”

“If you say so,” Jamie said, sounding unconvinced.

“We’ll figure it out,” Adam promised.

“You’ll figure it out,” Jamie predicted.

“And drum it into you,” Adam tossed back with a chuckle.  “Fair exchange for your help with those Greek classes I’ll miss.”

Jamie smiled then.  “Fair enough, although I expect you’ll have the harder task, drumming the mysteries of mathematics into me.”

Unveiling those mysteries had to await the morrow, however, for that night was the term’s first meeting of the Brothers in Unity, which included an announcement of interest to the freshmen.

“You’ll try, won’t you, Adam?” Lucas suggested as they left the hall after the meeting.

“It would be nice to win a prize,” Adam acknowledged dreamily.  “Even third place would give me some badly needed pocket money.”

“Hear, hear,” Jamie agreed heartily.

Adam gave him a cunning smile.  “So, you’ll be debating, too.”

“Against you?”  Jamie shivered.  “Certainly not.”

“Oh, yes, you will!” Adam insisted.  “There are three prizes, remember?  By entering, you double our chances of taking one home . . . for the betterment of the house.”

“Ah!”  Jamie nodded soberly, recognizing the reference to their share-and-share alike policy.  “Well . . . for the betterment of the house, I suppose I must.”  He looked first at Lucas and then Marcus.  “I think we all should enter.”

“Oh, no, not me,” Marcus protested.  “I’m no speaker.”

Lucas threw an arm around the slighter boy’s shoulders.  “That’s just it, Marc, my boy.  They want competitors they’re certain to defeat!”

“It’s not that at all!” Jamie declared huffily.

“Certainly not,” Adam echoed.  “Win or lose, it’s good experience for all of us.  So, what do you say?”

Lucas only laughed and said that he didn’t need money that badly, and while Marcus wavered, he finally decided that he wanted his first public speech to be in front of a smaller group.  So, at the next meeting of the Brothers in Unity, only Adam and Jamie would declare their intention to debate and have their names registered on the list of prize candidates.

* * * * *

            The first week back gave evidence that the third term would be the busiest yet for the freshmen of Yale.  Thursday brought their first introduction to spherical geometry, and while the text began simply enough, even Adam had to admit that this new subject, quite different from the plane geometry he’d studied before, would require study.  To him, however, it was fascinating, as all mathematics were.  Friday, of course, brought his first session with Louis Bail in architectural drawing.  Having consulted the instructor earlier, he had purchased and given a brief glance at the required textbook.  Like the geometry text, it began with definitions that were mostly familiar to him.  In fact, some of them went hand in glove with those he was memorizing for his class in spherical geometry.

Confident he would have no problem keeping up, Adam entered the classroom for his third recitation Friday, only to discover that, if anything, the scientific students were even more proficient with mathematics than he.  Not an easy ride, then.  Good.  He preferred a challenge, and it appeared that third term would present him with plenty.  He’d barely taken a breath before yet another new subject faced him at the noon recitation on Saturday.

“Who do you suppose will teach it?” Marcus asked as he, Lucas, Jamie and Adam hurried toward Alumni Hall again.

“That is a question,” Jamie said.  “It should have been Professor Larned, but with him gone . . . well, I don’t know.  Who else knows rhetoric?”

“All of them,” Adam snorted, “especially the preachers.  It’s probably a question of who had the lightest schedule.”

“I wish it could be Old Had,” Marcus put in dreamily.

The others hooted, knowing their luck couldn’t stretch that far.

“It’ll be a tutor,” Lucas moaned.  “The professors are all loaded already.”

“And ready to fire?” Adam snickered.

“Just hand me a blindfold,” Lucas advised.

They scurried up the steps and again found their places at the octagonal desks.  A swarthy man with a full black beard entered at noon, straight up, and introduced himself as the Reverend William Hutchison.  He spoke energetically as he described the material they would cover in their weekly meeting.  “I will give lectures on the structure of language, beginning today, and you will, of course, respond with recitation and occasionally through compositions.”  A low rumble of moans met the announcement of compositions.  “None of that,” the teacher said crisply.  “What you will learn in these lectures is how language performs its function of communication, and I assure you, young gentlemen, that that understanding will enhance all your future efforts at Yale.”

“He is a tutor,” Lucas advised his friends as they headed for the Vultures’ Nest after class, “but he seems to know his stuff.”

“I liked him,” Adam replied, “especially his vigor.  I thought rhetoric might be a rather dry subject, but I don’t think we’ll be tempted to fall asleep during his lectures!”         “And he’s right about it helping us with all our other work,” Jamie inserted.

“Especially yours, preacher boy,” Lucas declared, knocking off Jamie’s hat with a sweep of his banger.  Jamie scooped it up, brushed it off and chased after Lucas, flourishing his own cane.

“You’re supposed to turn the other. . . .”  Luke’s voice faded as he rounded a corner with Jamie at his heels.

Adam grinned at Marcus.  “Apparently, the Scripture says nothing about giving a

rowdy fellow another go at your chapeau.”

“It says nothing about giving them first go at the table, either,” Marcus laughed back.  “Come on!”  He and Adam took off after the others and managed to catch up with them, just as they reached their eating hall.

* * * * *

            Adam had intended to see Elizabeth on Saturday afternoon, but with all the new courses, each with its separate preparation, he felt he couldn’t spare the time that first weekend.  Since Saturday always meant a meeting of Sigma Epsilon in the evening, he had only the afternoon to read all his assignments, as well as beginning his first composition for Wednesday’s special class.  He reasoned that if he finished all his work, he’d then be able to devote Sunday afternoon to her.

By the time he left for the Sigma Ep meeting, he was fully prepared for Monday’s recitations and had a good start on his Latin composition, but as he walked with his mates toward the mission the next afternoon, he found himself of two minds.  He wasn’t sure whether to be irked with himself for not making time for Elizabeth the day before or put out with her for neglecting to meet his train on the one day this week that they might have shared a welcome-home kiss, something that certainly couldn’t happen at the mission, under the gaze of their young pupils.  Yes, she’d certainly robbed him of his romantic rights, he concluded as he entered.

When he approached the area where the two of them taught together, however, Elizabeth looked up at him with a bright smile, and his heart was lost once again.  She was flawless, and he was definitely to blame for any deprivation of romantic rights, his or hers.

“Oh, Adam, how good to see you again,” she said enthusiastically.  “We’ve missed him these last few weeks, haven’t we, children?”

“Yes, Miss Allen,” the students dutifully replied.

“I looked for you at the station,” Adam said, striving and not completely succeeding at keeping a chiding tone from his voice.

She frowned for a moment.  “I was . . . occupied,” she said curtly.

“Of course.”  He hoped for a fuller explanation later, but understood her reluctance to say more in front of the eager-eared children.  As he walked her home, however, he found that he was the one busily explaining his behavior, when she pouted about how infrequently she’d heard from him during his vacation.  “I tried,” he said.

She harrumphed.  “I didn’t realize that writing to me required such effort.”

“It didn’t require undue effort,” he protested.

“Oh?  Just undue time,” she scoffed.

“No, not that, either,” he sputtered.  “There . . . there just wasn’t much to say.  I mean, we lived so simply, so quietly that I had little news to share.”

“Oh, Adam, you silly boy,” she tittered with a shake of her pretty head.  “It wasn’t news I craved . . . just hearing from you . . . whatever you said.”  She veiled her eyes as she added, “I thought . . . you’d lost interest.”

“No,” he assured her.  “I’m so sorry if my negligence left you with that impression.  I was looking forward to seeing you . . . and then, when you didn’t meet the train, I . . . well, I assumed the worst, too, I fear.”

“Did you really want to see me that much?” she asked, stopping at the corner of the street where she lived.

“To see you . . . and to taste the sweet honey of your lips,” he whispered.

“You’re very bold, sir,” she said, tilting her head and gazing up at him from the corner of her eye.

He grinned.  “I learned that from a certain bold young lady, who saw me off at the depot.”

“I feel quite helpless in the grip of such a bold young rogue,” she said, lifting her chin and puckering her mouth in open invitation.  He, of course, accepted immediately, holding her close and pressing his lips to hers.  So satisfying was the honey of which he drank that he forgot until he had left her at her door that she never had told him what urgent occupation kept her from meeting his train.

* * * * *

            The meeting hall was rowdy, as usual, when Adam, Jamie, Lucas and Marcus entered and found seats as near the front of the room as possible.  Though their own prize debate would take place tomorrow, both Adam and Jamie felt that watching the men of Linonia in competition would enhance their chances of doing well.  Though the questions under consideration were different, they’d have the opportunity to evaluate what sort of approach was favored by the judges.  “Although it’ll be a completely different set tomorrow,” Jamie reminded his friends.

“Good rhetoric is good rhetoric, whoever judges,” Adam asserted.  Though he’d had only two sessions with the Reverend Hutchison, that class at noon on Saturdays was the one he most looked forward to each week, for the man quickly becoming known as “Old Hutch” was a master teacher.  Mathematics remained a favorite study, of course, but he had twice as many opportunities to enjoy it.

A dozen candidates argued the question: would it be good policy for the United States to undertake to control the political movements of this continent?  Two-thirds of them came from the same division as Adam, Jamie and Lucas, so they knew those men well and made wagers, to be paid in pieces of Candy Sam’s divinity, on which would win.  None correctly picked J. A. Bent as the winner, although Adam insisted that he should get at least one piece of divinity, since his choice, James Brand, had tied for second.  Predictably, no one agreed with that piece of logic.

The main thing both Adam and Jamie gleaned from watching the other open society’s debate was the acknowledgement that the competition would be stiff.  They, too, were arguing a political question: is the course which England had pursued toward the United States, during our present war, justifiable?  They had to present both sides of the question, of course, and they did not have the usual advantage of being able to discuss their arguments with one another.  Since they were competing against each other, as well as nine other freshmen from the Brothers in Unity, they needed to keep their thinking completely independent.  Both had haunted the library between classes, consulting newspapers for accounts of the Mason and Slidell incident, as well as classic references for precedents to cite.

Adam thought he had compiled compelling arguments, but as he sat on the platform, awaiting his turn to speak, every one of them began to seem specious.  Wiping his sweating palms on his trouser legs, he wondered why he had ever presumed to set himself up against these other scholars, all of whom, with the exception of Jamie, had had the benefit of an eastern preparatory school.  He was certain they had all participated in debates numerous times to his . . . well, none, unless you counted arguments with Little Joe or Hoss.   Those weren’t particularly good preparation, since Hoss was so congenial that he generally agreed with his older brother, anyway, while the stubborn little four-year-old apparently thought it his mission in life to challenge anything he was ever told.

To date, the largest group Adam had ever spoken before was Sigma Epsilon, and that didn’t even comprise the entire freshman class. The room here was packed, not only with most of his fellow freshmen, but upperclassmen and faculty, as well, and, most importantly, the three judges.  It would be a slaughter.  Why had he not realized that before putting himself to public shame?  Why had—suddenly he heard himself announced as the next speaker and lurched to his feet.

The speaker’s podium seemed to have developed a haze, and as he walked what felt like a mile to get to it, he was certain that he was about to faint dead away.  Only the vision of what a ridiculous spectacle he’d make, spread-eagled on the floor, kept him upright.  Reaching the podium, he clutched its sides, like a drowning man a floating spar after a shipwreck.  Ignoring the roaring in his ears, he cleared his throat and wondered why it suddenly felt so dry, as he stared at the sea of faces.  Finally, his voice just above a whisper, he spoke the first words of his carefully prepared speech.  Having something to hold onto seemed to steady him, and his confidence gradually grew until he finished the final few paragraphs with the vigor he’d planned to exhibit throughout his debate.

To the  roar of thunderous applause, which he was certain was in celebration that he’d finished tormenting them, Adam collapsed into his chair, but he could scarcely relax.  Since the candidates were being taken in alphabetical order, that meant that Jamie was up next.  Though Adam wouldn’t have thought it possible, his friend’s face looked pastier than his own had felt and his hands visibly shook.  While Adam’s voice had started soft, Jamie’s was barely audible, and unlike Adam’s, its volume didn’t increase much as he plowed through what was probably a good speech, if anyone could have heard it.  The two friends exchanged a look of commiseration as Jamie finished and sat down; the look clearly said that country boys didn’t stand a chance against the honed skills of eastern men.

Having given up on his own chances, Adam relaxed and enjoyed the final few speakers.  One of them, a fellow he didn’t know well because he was in a different division, seemed head and shoulders above the other speakers, in Adam’s opinion. When Allen Mclean took first prize, Adam nodded with satisfaction in having that opinion confirmed, but he nearly fell out of his chair when the winner of the second prize was announced: “Adam Cartwright.”  Pure astonishment on his face, he stood and stumbled forward to accept the ten-dollar prize.

He was still in a daze as he left Alumni Hall to the loud cheers of fellow freshmen that he passed.  “Oh, no,” he protested when, on the building’s steps, he felt himself hoisted aloft and carried down and across the campus in triumph, but no one paid him the slightest attention, any more than the other winners, suffering similar exuberant congratulations.  The three victors were finally deposited on the lawn before the chapel and with three hearty hip-hip-hurrahs the freshmen dispersed, for tomorrow was another full day of classes.

“Well, at least, you did your part for the betterment of the house,” Jamie observed as they walked home.  “I’m sorry I failed to do mine.”

“You did your part, just by trying,” Adam assured him.  “Your reasoning was sound, but . . . well, rather quietly stated.”

Jamie laughed.  “You couldn’t hear it, you mean.  My throat was so dry I’m surprised anything came out.”

“Mine, too,” Adam admitted, “and my biggest surprise was that anyone heard me over the knocking of my knees!”

“It’s a good beginning, though,” Jamie said, “and sure to be the forerunner of many future successes . . . at least for you.”

“For you, as well,” Adam insisted.  “It only takes experience to get over those troublesome nerves, so”—he drew out the word—“we’ll have to see to it that you enter every competition and volunteer for every speaking opportunity.”

“And you’ll pay the funeral expenses out of your prize money?” Jamie suggested.

Adam flourished his banger with the finesse of a swordfighter.  “Any more of that sort of talk, young fellow, and I shall knock that plug from your hapless head!”

Jamie held onto his top hat with both hands and took a step away from Adam, who merely laughed, reached out a long arm, drew his friend back and locked elbows with him the rest of the way home.

* * * * *

            The next day Adam found that, overnight, he had become one of the best known freshmen on campus.  The Vultures all applauded him at breakfast, and as he moved from class to class throughout the day, even upperclassmen—Demmings for one—stopped to congratulate him on his performance.  His moment of highest satisfaction, however, came at the end of the noon recitation on Saturday, when the Reverend Hutchison requested that he remain after class.  Wondering at first if he’d made some egregious error in recitation, Adam found himself flushing at the tutor’s praise of his rhetorical style in the open society debate.  “Had not your nerves overcome you early on,” Hutchison said, “I am confident that you would have taken first prize.”

“Mr. Mclean was a formidable opponent,” Adam replied with as much honesty as modesty.

Hutchison smiled.  “He did very well, but I found your arguments more convincing, Mr. Cartwright.  You have the makings of a fine public speaker.”

Adam hadn’t known how to respond to that, except to say thank you.  He wanted to do well in all he attempted, of course, but he doubted that he’d have many speaking opportunities once he left college.  Architecture was a field where what a man did with his hands counted more than whatever he might say, and that was even more true of ranching.  As he walked out, he imagined himself talking a recalcitrant steer into a holding pen, and he was laughing aloud when he joined his friends, who had waited outside for him.

“Old Hutch can scarcely have eaten him alive,” Lucas opined, “if this is his reaction.”

“I was thinking about rhetoric . . . and cattle,” Adam stated, relishing the bewildered looks that greeted that remark.

“He’s officially taken leave of his senses,” Marcus suggested, “and without the excuse of a girl this time.”

“Probably from breathing the rarified air at the top of the mountain of academic achievement,” Jamie put in solemnly.

Lucas groaned.  “Anyone that verbose has obviously been breathing the same air.”  He leaned toward Marcus.  “Do you suppose either of them would be interested in anything as humble as dinner?”

“If you think otherwise, you’re the one who’s taken leave of his senses,” Adam snorted.  “Come on, before those voracious sophomores take more than their share!”

* * * * *

            One final surprise brought Adam’s adventure in rhetoric to a fitting close, when he discovered that the planned program of Sigma Epsilon that night had been canceled in favor of a peanut bum in honor of the triumphant scholar of the house.  After much munching and even more backslapping, he walked home, feeling unabashedly glad that he’d taken the challenge of the freshman prize debate.  Not only had he gained financially, but in his standing among his peers and the esteem of those who would judge his academic efforts for terms to come.

~ ~ Notes ~ ~

The Mason and Slidell Affair, which Adam studied in preparation for his debate, was an international diplomatic incident that occurred late in 1861.  When the North removed two Confederate envoys to Great Britain and France from a British ship, the threat of war with Britain loomed for seven weeks.  Though Mason and Slidell were ultimately released and continued on their journey, they were unable to secure the diplomatic recognition and aid they had sought for the Confederacy.