and St. Peter now met in the alcove behind the Professor’s lecture room at the university.
One Sunday, shortly before Tom’s Commencement, he came to the house to ask Rosamond to go to the senior dance with him.
The family were having tea in the garden; a few days of intensely warm weather had come on and hurried the roses into bloom. Rosamond happened to ask Tom, who sat in his white flannels, fanning himself with his straw hat, if spring in the Southwest was as warm as this.
“Oh, no,” he replied. “May is usually chilly down there—bright sun, but a kind of edge in the wind, and cool nights. Last night reminded me of smothery May nights in Washington.”
Mrs. St. Peter glanced up. “You mean Washington City? I didn’t know you had ever been so far east.”
There was no denying that the young man looked uncomfortable. He frowned and said in a low voice:
“Yes, I’ve been there. I suppose I don’t speak of it because I haven’t very pleasant recollections of it.”
“How long were you there?” his hostess asked.
“A winter and spring, more than six months. Long enough to get very homesick.”
He went away almost at once, as if he were afraid of being questioned further.
The subject came up again a few weeks later, however. After Tom’s graduation, two courses were open to him. He was offered an instructorship, with a small salary, in the Physics department under Dr. Crane, and a graduate scholarship at Johns Hopkins University.