positively. “You’re just lonely; that’s all. I bet that you ’ll be crazy about college in a month— same as the rest of us. When you feel blue, come in and see Peters and me. We ’ll make you grin; Peters will, anyway. You can’t be blue around him.”
Morse sat down. “You don’t understand. I’m not lonely. It is n’t that. I could talk to fellows all day long if I wanted to. I don’t want to talk to ’em. I can’t. There’s just one person that I want to talk to, and that’s my mother.” He shot the word “mother” out defiantly and glared at Hugh, silently daring him to laugh, which Hugh had sense enough not to do, although he wanted to strongly. The great big baby, wanting his mother! Why, he wanted his mother, too, but he did n’t cry about it.
“That’s all right,” he said reassuringly; “you ’ll see her Christmas vacation, and that is n’t very long off.”
“I want to see her now!” Morse jumped to his feet and raised his clenched hands above his head. “Now!” he roared. “Now! I’ve got to. I’m going home on the midnight.” He whirled about to his desk and began to pull open the drawers, pil¬ ing their contents on the top.
“Here!” Hugh rushed to him and clutched his arms. “Don’t do that.” Morse struggled, angry at the restraining hands, ready to strike them off.
