until at last not only were his teeth on edge, but his entire disposition as well.  He had become somewhat soured and sarcastic in his dealings with the students, and was more unpopular than any other professor in the college.  His scholarship was accurate.  His ability to impart his knowledge to such students as were eager to learn was also unquestioned, but for the indifferent and lazy, or for the dull or poorly prepared, his words were like drops of vitriol.

His popular title of Splinter had been bestowed upon him because of certain physical characteristics however.  He was a very tall man and exceedingly thin, and the very beard which he wore imparted by its sharp point an additionally suggestive emphasis to his slight and slender frame.  No one knew how the title originated or how it came to be bestowed upon the professor; but its appropriateness had at once fastened the term and every entering class received it as a heritage from those which had preceded it.

Will Phelps already had acquired a keen dislike for the man, and he had laughed heartily when Mott one night had declared that the student body had been compelled to give Professor Hanson the new name he had received.  “You see,” Mott had said, “the faculty and the trustees decide what titles a man can wear after his name; so it’s only fair that the students should decide what titles he shall wear before his name.  Now this man’s name used to be simply John Hanson.  Then some college or other said it should be John Hanson, Ph.D.  Well, the students here have only gone a step further and they’ve not taken anything away from the old fellow.  They’ve added to him, that’s what they have; and now it’s Prof.  Splinter John Hanson, Ph.D.  He ought to be grateful, but it’s a cold world and I sometimes fear he doesn’t appreciate what was done for him.  In fact such bestowments are rarely received as they should be.”

The suggestion Will’s room-mate had made that Peter John soon might take Splinter’s place had recalled his own difficulties with the man, but soon even the thoughts of the unpopular professor of Greek were forgotten in the new interest that was aroused by the entrance into the room of three young men who were at once recognized as members of the junior class.

CHAPTER VIII

THE PARADE

“You’re just the fellows we’re looking for,” said Allen, the leading spirit of the three young men who entered the room.

“You haven’t very far to look, then,” replied Will laughingly, for in his heart he felt honored by the unexpected visit of the upper classmen.

“That’s right, freshman.  How are you getting on?”

“They’ve kept us busy, to say the least.”

“You mean the sophs?”

“Yes.  That’s the only class we have to think of, isn’t it?”

“No.  Your own class is first.”

“It’s the best class in college,” interrupted Peter John quickly, and all who were in the room laughed as the uncouth freshman’s face flushed.