The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) 📕

Speak Louder.

"I Sha'n't Forget The Day," Carl Went On,  "That The Old Man Left Me At

Kane. I Was Scared,  And I Didn't Want To Stay. But He Made Me; He Said

That Kane Would Make A Gentleman Out Of Me. I Was Homesick,  Homesick As

Hell. I Know How Morse Feels. I Tried To Run Away Three Times,  But They

Caught Me And Brought Me Back. Cry? I Bawled All The Time When I Was

Alone. I Couldn't Sleep For Weeks; I Just Laid In Bed And Bawled. God!

It Was Awful. The Worst Of It Was The Meals. I Didn't Know How To Eat

Right,  You See,  And The Master Who Sat At The Table With Our Form Would

Correct Me. I Used To Want To Die,  And Sometimes I Would Say That I Was

Sick And Didn't Want Any Food So That I Wouldn't Have To Go To Meals.

The Fellows Razzed The Life Out Of Me; Some Of 'Em Called Me Paddy. The

Reason I Came Here To Sanford Was That No Kane Fellows Come Here. They

Go Mostly To Williams,  But Some Of 'Em Go To Yale Or Princeton.

"Well,  I Had Four Years Of That,  And I Was Homesick The Whole Four

Years. Oh,  I Don't Mean That They Kept After Me All The Time--That Was

Just The First Few Months--But They Never Really Accepted Me. I Never

Felt At Home. Even When I Was With A Bunch Of Them,  I Felt Lonesome....

And They Never Made A Gentleman Out Of Me,  Though My Old Lady Thinks

They Did."

"You're Crazy," Hugh Interrupted Indignantly. "You're As Much A

Gentleman As Anybody In College."

Carl Smiled And Shook His Head. "No,  You Don't Understand. You're A

Gentleman,  But I'm Not. Oh,  I Know All The Tricks,  The Parlor Stunts.

Four Years At Kane Taught Me Those,  But They're Just Tricks To Me. I

Don't Know Just How To Explain It--But I Know That You're A Gentleman

And I'm Not."

"You're Just Plain Bug-House. You Make Me Feel Like A Fish. Why,  I'm

Just From A Country High School. I'm Not In Your Class." Hugh Sat Up

And Leaned Eagerly Toward Carl,  Gesticulating Excitedly.

"As If That Made Any Difference," Carl Replied,  His Voice Sharp With

Scorn. "You See,  I'm A Bad Egg. I Drink And Gamble And Pet. I Haven't

Gone The Limit Yet On--On Account Of My Old Lady--But I Will."

Hugh Was Relieved. He Had Wondered More Than Once During The Past Week

"Just How Far Carl Had Gone." Several Times Carl Had Suggested By Sly

Innuendos That There Wasn't Anything That He Hadn't Done,  And Hugh Had

Felt A Slight Disapproval--And Considerable Envy. His Own Standards Were

Very High,  Very Strict,  But He Was Ashamed To Reveal Them.

"I've Never Gone The Limit Either," He Confessed Shyly.

Carl Threw Back His Head And Laughed. "You Poor Fish; Don't You Suppose

I Know That?" He Exclaimed.

"How Did You Know?" Hugh Demanded Indignantly. "I Might've. Why,  I Was

Out With A Girl Just Before I Left Home And--"

"You Kissed Her," Carl Concluded For Him. "I Don't Know How I Knew,  But

I Did. You're Just Kinda Pure; That's All. I'm Not Pure At All; I'm Just

A Little Afraid--And I Keep Thinkin' Of My Old Lady. I've Started To

Several Times,  But I've Always Thought Of Her And Quit."

He Sat Silent For A Minute Or Two And Then Continued More Gently. "My

Old Lady Never Came To Kane. She Never Will Come Here,  Either. She Wants

To Give Me A Real Chance. See? She Knows She Isn't A Lady--But--But,  Oh,

God,  Hugh,  She's White,  White As Hell. I Guess I Think More Of Her Than

All The Rest Of The World Put Together. That's Why I Write To Her Every

Night. She Writes To Me Every Day,  Too. The Letters Have Mistakes In

Them,  But--But They Keep Me Straight. That Is,  They Have So Far. I Know,

Though,  That Some Night I'll Be Out With A Bag And Get Too Much Liquor

In Me--And Then Good-By,  Virginity."

"You're Crazy,  Carl. You Know You Won't." Carl Rose From The Chair And

Stretched Hugely. "You're A Good Egg,  Hugh," He Said In The Midst Of A

Yawn,  "But You're A Damn Fool."

Hugh Started. That Was Just What He Had Said To Morse.

He Never Caught Carl In A Confidential Mood Again. The Next Morning He

Was His Old Flippant Self,  Swearing Because He Had To Study His Latin,

Which Wasn't "Of Any Damned Use To Anybody."

In The Following Weeks Hugh Religiously Clung To Morse,  Helped Him With

His Work,  Went To The Movies With Him,  Inveigled Him Into Going On

Several Long Walks. Morse Was More Cheerful And Almost Pathetically

Grateful. One Day,  However,  Hugh Found An Unstamped Letter On The

Floor. He Opened It Wonderingly.

       Dear Hugh [He Read]. You've Been Awfully Good To Me But

       I Can't Stand It. I'm Going Home To-Day. Give My Regards

       To Peters. Thanks For All You've Done For Me.

                                                Bert Morse.

For A Moment After Reading Morse's Letter Hugh Was Genuinely Sorry,  But

Almost Immediately He Felt Irritated And Hurt.

He Handed The Letter To Carl,  Who Entered Just As He Finished Reading

It,  And Exploded: "The Simp! And After I Wasted So Much Time On Him."

Carl Read The Letter. "I Told You So." He Smiled Impishly. "You Were The

Wise Boy; You _Knew_ That He Would Get Over It."

Hugh Should Really Have Felt Grateful To Morse. It Was Only A Feeling Of

Responsibility For Him That Had Made Hugh Prepare His Own Lessons. Day

After Day He Had Studied With Morse In Order To Cheer Him Up; And That

Was All The Studying He Had Done. Latin And History Had Little

Opportunity To Claim His Interest In Competition With The Excitement

Around Him.

Crossing The Campus For The First Few Weeks Of College Was An Adventure

For Every Freshman. He Did Not Know When He Would Be Seized By A Howling

Group Of Sophomores And Forced To Make An Ass Of Himself For Their

Amusement. Sometimes He Was Required To Do "Esthetic Dancing," Sometimes

To Sing,  Or,  What Was More Common,  To Make A Speech. And No Matter How

Hard He Tried,  The Sophomores Were Never Pleased. If He Danced,  They

Laughed At Him,  Guyed Him Unmercifully,  Called Attention To His Legs,

His Awkwardness,  Urged Him To Go Faster,  Insisted That He Get Some

"Pash" Into It. If He Sang,  And The Frightened Freshman Usually Sang Off

Key,  They Interrupted Him After A Few Notes,  Told Him To Sing Something

Else,  Interrupted That,  And Told Him "For God's Sake" To Dance. The

Speech-Making,  However,  Provided The Most Fun,  Especially If The

Freshman Was Cleverer Than His Captors. Then There Was A Battle Of Wits,

And If The Freshman Too Successfully Defeated His Opponents,  He Was

Dropped Into A Watering-Trough That Had Stood On The Campus For More

Than A Century. Of Justice There Was None,  But Of Sport There Was A

Great Plenty. The Worst Scared Of The Freshmen Really Enjoyed The

Experience. By A Strange Sort Of Inverted Logic,  He Felt That He Was

Something Of A Hero; At Least,  For A Brief Time He Had Occupied The

Public Eye. He Had Been Initiated; He Was A Sanford Man.

One Freshman,  However,  Found Those Two Weeks Harrowing. That Was Merton

Billings,  The Fat Man Of The Class. Day After Day He Was Captured By The

Sophomores And Commanded To Dance. He Was An Earnest Youth And Entirely

Without A Sense Of Humor. Dancing To Him Was Not Only Hard Work But

Downright Wicked. He Was A Member Of The Epworth League,  And He Took His

Membership Seriously. Even David,  He Remembered,  Had "Got In Wrong"

Because He Danced; And He Had No Desire To Emulate David. Within Two

Days The Sophomores Discovered His Religious Ardor,  His Horror Of

Drinking,  Smoking,  And Dancing. So They Made Him Dance While They Howled

With Glee At His Bobbing Stomach; His Short,  Staggering Legs; His Red

Jowls,  Jigging And Jouncing; His Pale Blue Eyes,  Protruding Excitedly

From Their Sockets; His Lips Pressed Tight Together,  Periodically

Popping Open For Breath. He Was Very Funny,  Very Angry,  And Very Much

Ashamed. Every Night He Prayed That He Might Be Forgiven His Sin. A

Month Later When The Intensity Of His Hatred Had Subsided Somewhat,  He

Remembered To His Horror That He Had Not Prayed That His Tormentors Be

Forgiven Their Even Greater Sin. He Rectified The Error Without Delay,

Not Neglecting To Ask That The Error Be Forgiven,  Too.

Hugh Was Forced To Sing,  To Dance,  And To Make A Speech,  But He Escaped

The Watering-Trough. He Thought The Fellows Were Darned Nice To Let Him

Off,  And They Thought That He Was Too Darned Nice To Be Ducked. Although

Hugh Didn't Suspect It,  He Was Winning Immediate Popularity. His Shy,

Friendly Smile,  His Natural Modesty,  And His Boyish Enthusiasm Were

Making A Host Of Friends For Him. He Liked The "Initiations" On The

Campus,  But He Did Not Like Some Of Them In The Dormitories. He Didn't

Mind Being Pulled Out Of Bed And Shoved Under A Cold Shower. He Took A

Cold Shower Every Morning,  And If The Sophomores Wanted To Give Him

Another One At Night--All Right,  He Was Willing. He Had To Confess That

"Eliza Crossing The Ice" Had Been Enormous Fun. The Freshmen Were

Commanded To Appear In The Common Room In Their Oldest Clothes. Then All

Of Them,  The Smallest Lad Excepted,  Got Down On Their Hands And Knees,

Forming A Circle. The Smallest Lad,  "Eliza," Was Given A Big Bucket Full

Of Water. He Jumped Upon The Back Of The Man Nearest To Him And Ran

Wildly Around The Circle,  Leaping From Back To Back,  The Bucket Swinging

Crazily,  The Water Splashing In Every Direction And Over Everybody.

Hugh Liked Such "Stunts," And He Liked Putting On A Show With Three

Other Freshmen For The Amusement Of Their Peers,  But He Did Object To

The Vulgarity And Cruelty Of Much That Was Done.

The First Order The Sophomores Often Gave Was,  "Strip,  Freshman." Just

Why The Freshmen Had To Be Naked Before They Performed,  Hugh Did Not

Know,  But There Was Something Phallic About The Proceedings That

Disgusted Him. Like Every Athlete,  He Thought Nothing Of Nudity,  But He

Soon Discovered That Some Of The Freshmen Were Intensely Conscious Of

It. True,  A Few Months In The Gymnasium Cured Them Of That

Consciousness,  But At First Many Of Them Were Eternally Wrapping Towels

About Themselves In The Gymnasium,  And They Took A Shower As If It Were

An Act Of Public Shame. The Sophomores Recognized The Timidity That Some

Of The Freshmen Had In Revealing Their Bodies,  And They Made Full

Capital Of It. The Shyer The Freshman,  The More Pointed Their Remarks,

The More Ingeniously Nasty Their Tricks.

"I Don't Mind The Razzing Myself," Hugh Told Carl After One Particularly

Strenuous Evening,  "But I Don't Like The Things They Said To Poor Little

Wilkins. And When They Stripped 'Em And Made Wilkins Read That Dirty

Story To Culver,  I Wanted To Fight"

"It Was Kinda Rotten," Carl Agreed,  "But It Was Funny."

"It Wasn't Funny At All," Hugh Said Angrily.

Carl Looked At Him In Surprise. It Was The First Time That He Had Seen

Him Aroused.

"It Wasn't Funny At All," Hugh Repeated; "It Was Just Filthy. I'd 'A'

Just About Died If I'd 'A' Been In Wilkins's Place. The Poor Kid!

They're Too Damn Dirty,  These Sophomores. I Didn't Think That College

Men Could Be So Dirty. Why,  Not Even The Bums At Home Would Think Of

Such Things. And I'm Telling You Right Now That There Are Three Of Those

Guys That I'm Layin' For. Just Wait Till The Class Rush. I'm Going To

Get Adams,  And Then I'm Going To Get Cooper--Yes,  I'm Going To Get Him

Even If He Is Bigger'n Me--And I'm Going To Get Dodge. I Didn't Say

Anything When They Made Me Wash My Face In The Toilet Bowl,  But,  By God!

I'm