“But how can there be any serious study where they give so much time to athletics and frivolity?  They pay their football coach a larger salary than their President.  And those fraternity houses are places where boys learn all sorts of evil.  I’ve heard that dreadful things go on in them sometimes.  Besides, it would take more money, and you couldn’t live as cheaply as you do at the Chapins’.”

Claude made no reply.  He stood before her frowning and pulling at a calloused spot on the inside of his palm.  Mrs. Wheeler looked at him wistfully.  “I’m sure you must be able to study better in a quiet, serious atmosphere,” she said.

He sighed and turned away.  If his mother had been the least bit unctuous, like Brother Weldon, he could have told her many enlightening facts.  But she was so trusting and childlike, so faithful by nature and so ignorant of life as he knew it, that it was hopeless to argue with her.  He could shock her and make her fear the world even more than she did, but he could never make her understand.

His mother was old-fashioned.  She thought dancing and card-playing dangerous pastimes—­only rough people did such things when she was a girl in Vermont—­and “worldliness” only another word for wickedness.  According to her conception of education, one should learn, not think; and above all, one must not enquire.  The history of the human race, as it lay behind one, was already explained; and so was its destiny, which lay before.  The mind should remain obediently within the theological concept of history.

Nat Wheeler didn’t care where his son went to school, but he, too, took it for granted that the religious institution was cheaper than the State University; and that because the students there looked shabbier they were less likely to become too knowing, and to be offensively intelligent at home.  However, he referred the matter to Bayliss one day when he was in town.

“Claude’s got some notion he wants to go to the State University this winter.”

Bayliss at once assumed that wise, better-be-prepared-for-the-worst expression which had made him seem shrewd and seasoned from boyhood.  “I don’t see any point in changing unless he’s got good reasons.”

“Well, he thinks that bunch of parsons at the Temple don’t make first-rate teachers.”

“I expect they can teach Claude quite a bit yet.  If he gets in with that fast football crowd at the State, there’ll be no holding him.”  For some reason Bayliss detested football.  “This athletic business is a good deal over-done.  If Claude wants exercise, he might put in the fall wheat.”

That night Mr. Wheeler brought the subject up at supper, questioned Claude, and tried to get at the cause of his discontent.  His manner was jocular, as usual, and Claude hated any public discussion of his personal affairs.  He was afraid of his father’s humour when it got too near him.