“Good!  That’s the way to do it!  Now then, Hawley,” said Mott, “you’ve got to get rid of that eternal grin of yours.  Wipe that smile off your face and throw it out of the window.”

Hawley laughed aloud as he said, “I’ve been trying to get rid of it for nineteen years, but I haven’t succeeded yet.  If you fellows will show me how to do it I’ll be yours truly now and for evermore.”

Some of the sophomores laughed, but Mott glared angrily at them as he said, “Quit that!” Then turning again to Hawley he said, “Oh, we’ll help you all right enough.  Just do as I tell you!”

“How shall I do it?”

“Take your handkerchief and wipe that smile off your face and throw it out of the window as I tell you.”

Hawley drew a huge handkerchief from his pocket with which he vigorously rubbed his face, and then going soberly to the window pretended to throw something out; but when he returned to his seat his laughter became uncontrollable and he broke forth into a loud guffaw, in which some of the assembly joined.

At Mott’s rebuke the laughter ceased, and then he said again to Hawley, “That won’t do, freshman.  You’re not rid of it yet.  Try it again!”

Six times the huge and good-natured freshman was compelled to repeat his senseless and silly performance, and then Mott declared that he was satisfied.

“Don’t have a relapse,” he said warningly, and then, turning to Will Phelps, he said, “Now I want my nice little boy, mamma’s pet and papa’s joy, to show what a good little boy he really is.  He isn’t going to do any of the naughty things that some of the wicked little college boys do.  He is strong, he is, and he promised mamma he wouldn’t, and he won’t.  Let’s give him a song, fellows,” he added, turning to his classmates, and at once the boys began to sing: 

    “We’re coming, we’re coming, our brave little band,
    On the right side of temperance we always do stand;
    We don’t use tobacco, for this we do think,
    That those who do use it most always do drink.”

Some of the singers had very musical voices and the simple little ditty sounded very clear and strong as they all joined in it.  Will Phelps, however, was thinking of what it was that would be required of him.  Then flashed into his mind the last conversation he had had with his mother and in which he had given her a promise not unlike that at which Mott had hinted.  And he intended to keep it too, he assured himself.  Come what might, he would not break it.  He even smiled slightly as he thought of what his mother’s feelings would be if she could look into Peter John’s room and see what was then going on there.

As the song ceased abruptly Will said, “What is it you want me to do, Mott?”

“Well, now, freshman, that’s cool.  You can’t help being a freshman, but it’s not well even for a freshman to be too fresh.  Ever hear the like of that, fellows?” he inquired of his classmates.