Read Ebook: Humoristische Erinnerungen aus meinem academischen Leben Erstes Bändchen in Heidelberg und Kiel in den Jahren 1817-1819 by Kobbe Theodor Von

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Ebook has 357 lines and 12818 words, and 8 pages

It was past twelve before his father sent for him, and the first glance the boy encountered was one of displeasure.

"Did you come in on the night-train?" was the elder Grant's greeting.

"Yes, sir."

The father frowned, and looked up at a clock which ticked above their heads.

"I telegraphed you that I could see you at nine."

Ross sank into a great padded, leather-upholstered chair. All about him were evidences of luxury, but he was conscious only of his father's displeasure and of his own disreputable appearance. He studied his hands awkwardly, and stumbled in his reply.

"Accident?" His father's tone softened.

Ross looked at his coat-sleeve. "There was a fine horse, a big bay that stood behind a truckster's cart. He took an apple. It lodged in his throat, and he nearly choked to death." The boy hesitated and glanced up. "I got it out," he explained simply, adding apologetically, "I got awfully mussed up doing it, though."

"You!" Grant burst out, paying no attention to the apology. "You got it out!" He leaned forward, genuinely interested. "How did you do it?"

Ross warmed under the interest in the tone. "I was standing in the bow of the boat, just over the rail from the horse, and I saw what the trouble was. There was no one else who seemed to know what to do." He spoke modestly. "The horse would have died before we reached the landing; and so," simply, "I ran my arm down his throat, and got the apple."

"You did!" ejaculated Grant. He leaned further forward. "And what prevented the horse from chewing up your arm while you were after the apple?"

"A bootblack's brush," Ross explained. "A boy was rubbing up a man's shoes near me; and I grabbed his brushes, and got busy. One of the deck hands helped me prop the horse's mouth open. I threw off my coat"--here Ross surveyed himself ruefully, and left the subject of the horse; "and I got pretty dirty all over. Couldn't help it. There wasn't any time to think of keeping clean. But after we got over on the New York side the owner of the horse took me to a stable, and helped me to clean up; but--I don't think it's much of a success."

Mr. Grant leaned back in his swivel chair, rested his elbows on the arms, and fitted his finger-tips together. His imagination, country-trained in his youth, was supplying some of the details which his son had omitted. He nodded his iron-gray head, and narrowed his eyes, a trick common to all the Grants when intent on any subject.

"Quick work," he remarked after a pause. His eyes were taking the measure of his son. "It had to be quick work," he added as if to convince himself that Ross could act swiftly.

"Where did you get breakfast?" was his next question.

"I haven't had any," Ross replied. "I tried to get here by nine o'clock."

A low whistle escaped the father. He arose, and reached for his hat, which lay on the top of a safe behind him. "We'll go out to lunch now."

Ross glanced doubtfully from his father's well-groomed person to his own dirty coat.

"Nonsense!" interrupted Grant brusquely.

As they left the room, he took his boy's arm. There was little resemblance between the two. Ross had his uncle's head with its high brow and well-shaped chin, lean cheeks, and prominent ears. He was taller than his father, but wholly lacked his father's energetic manner and erect carriage.

"You graduated in June from Wyoming Seminary," the father stated as they entered a large Broadway restaurant and sat down near the door.

"Yes, sir."

"No honors?"

The boy's eyes fell. "No, sir. I stood tenth in a class of thirty-four."

Evasion of the truth was not one of Ross's strong points.

"And," stated his father, "it took you five years to do a four years' course."

Ross looked his father squarely in the eyes, and lifted his chin a little. The father noticed for the first time that the boy's chin could indicate aggression.

"I flunked on mathematics. But I made them up the next summer, and went on."

Again Grant looked at his son attentively, the son who retrieved his failure and "went on."

"You're seventeen," he said abruptly. "What's next?" The question, as both knew, was superfluous.

"Medical college," Ross answered as abruptly as the question had been put. "I am preparing for the entrance examinations in the University of Pennsylvania. I want to go down and take them in January, and at the same time pass upon a couple of subjects in the freshman year."

There was a gleam of curiosity in Grant's deep-set eyes as he put the next questions.

"Haven't I told you repeatedly that I shall never advance one penny on a medical education for you?"

"Yes, sir." Ross's eyes met his father's steadily but respectfully. "And I shall not ask you to advance a cent."

"But haven't I forbidden your uncle, also, to help you out?"

"Yes, sir, and Uncle Fred has no intention of helping me. He'll keep the letter and the spirit of the law you have laid down."

Ross smiled quietly. "But you have never forbidden my getting a medical education through my own efforts; and that, father, is what I intend to do."

Ross Grant, Senior, found himself looking into eyes which he recognized as strangely like his own and shining with the same determination which in himself had established a thriving business and built up a moderate fortune. Never had he been so interested in his son. Never had he so coveted him for a business career. But, as he ate a moment in silence, young Ross's determined voice seemed to be repeating in old Ross's ears, "That, father, is what I intend to do."

During the remainder of the meal the elder Grant listened attentively to the younger's plans. To Ross this was a new experience. After the first irritation over his tardiness, his father had not once oppressed him with that sense of disapproval and disappointment which usually sent him back to his uncle with a buoyant relief at his escape from New York.

Still, he was not deceived. He knew that his father's summons had to do with the thwarting of his surgical career; and he was prepared to argue, persuade, do anything short of actual defiance, to gain permission to work for the object toward which all his inclinations pulled.

As they made their way up Broadway through the noon-hour crowd, a feminine voice behind them suddenly piped out excitedly:

"There he is, Kate, right ahead of you--that tall, round-shouldered young man. He's the one I told you about on the ferry this morning. I tell you what, he made all the men around step lively for a few minutes."

Ross suddenly quickened his pace. His face flushed uncomfortably, but the voice of "Kate's" companion was still at his heels.

Ross, Senior, strode along behind Ross, Junior, now in a vain attempt to keep up. He chuckled in a sly enjoyment of the boy's embarrassment.

"He certainly can move, I see," he muttered, "when he has something to move toward--or away from!"

But the mutter was lost on Ross seeking an escape from that voice of praise by dodging in and out among the crowd until his father lost sight of him, and found him again only at the entrance to the office building.

When the two were again seated in the private office, the father for the first time broached the matter which he had called the son from Pennsylvania to hear; and, had he studied the boy for months, he could not have overcome his opposition more tactfully and completely.

"Ross," he began quietly, "I am not going to forbid your going to a medical college this year or any other year. To be honest with you, I admire your grit. I believe it will bring you success. And so, as I say, I am not going to forbid your entering the University of Pennsylvania. But--I am going to ask a favor of you."

Ross's eyes sparkled. His father swung around, and, picking up a pencil, marked aimlessly on a pad lying on the big mahogany desk.

"Well, father."

"I am going to ask you to help me pay a debt which I owe--and the payment will certainly spoil this year so far as college is concerned."

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