Cupid of Campion

As Clarence went down the stairs with John, he said: “Say, John Rieler, I got some bad news and I felt sick all over. And do you know what happened? The Rector blessed me, and now I could stand anything.”

CHAPTER XV

In which Clarence begins to admire Campion College, and becomes the room-mate of a very remarkable young man, as the sequel will clearly show

“Do you know where you are going to sleep to-night, Clarence?” asked John, as the two boys, after a long walk on the Bridgeport road, were returning to Campion.

“No; where?”

“You’re going to have the finest room in the house.”

“Indeed! Where is it?”

“You see our new classroom building, don’t you?”

“It seems to me I do.”

“Well, they say that’s the finest building of its kind in the West. On the fourth floor there are twenty-one or twenty-two rooms for a few boys in the college department. All of those rooms are reasonably large, but there is one big enough for two. There it is – at the south-eastern corner. It has a window on the east and two looking south. Two brothers live in it, Will and John Benton. John hasn’t come back to school yet; he’s not well – and so Will has it to himself, and to-night you are going to have John’s bed.”

“Is Will Benton all right?”

“All right! Say, he’s in the senior class, and he’s Prefect of the Sodality, and the best all-round athlete, and the best pitcher on the college team. All right! He’s the best boy in the college; and he goes to Communion every day. That’s nothing out of the way here. Lots of our boys do that. But Will Benton keeps it up in vacation time, too.”

“That’s funny,” mused Clarence. “In the last few days I’ve begun to meet Catholics. The first one I met was that little girl, Dora. She began her kidnaping story by telling me she used to go to Communion every day till she fell into the hands of the gypsies. Then you yank me out of the water, and when the Rector says he is going to punish you, up you speak and tell him you’re going to Communion every day. And now, I suppose you’re going to bring me up to introduce me to Will Benton, and he goes to Communion every day.”

“Yes; we’re going up now, for it’s nearly bedtime. Most of us go to Communion every day, you know, to help us keep from sin. And it does, too. A boy who knows he’s going to Communion tomorrow is mighty careful about what he says and what he listens to.”

“I am beginning,” said Clarence, “to be quite pleased with the Catholic Church.”

“I’m sure the Church,” retorted John, “will be proud and happy to know it has gained your approbation.”

“Seriously,” said Clarence, “I’ve changed my ideas completely since I met Dora. If she’s a specimen of the Catholic Church, I want to join.”

“What! Aren’t you a Catholic?”

“No. Who knows but I may be some day?”

“I thought you were a Catholic all along. Here we are,” continued John, as they entered the classroom building. “Let’s go up quietly. The boys are in the study hall now. Say,” he added, gleefully, as they reached the second story, “look in there; just see what I’m missing.”

“What a big hall!” exclaimed Clarence.

“Everything in this building is big,” said John with conscious pride; “the playroom and the dormitory and the classrooms, and the science department – they’re all big.”

“I think,” replied Clarence, “that, from your description, the place will suit me perfectly. In fact, I’ve a mind to buy it. Name your price.”

“For a fellow who arrives at Campion College in a bathing suit and nothing else, you’ve got the most wonderful nerve. Ah! here we are. This is your room for the night.”

“Come in,” said a rumbling voice in answer to John’s knock.

“I’ve brought him, Will. Here’s the boy who came to College down the river, Clarence Esmond.”

“Welcome, Clarence. You’re to be my guest for to-night and so long as you choose the room is yours. I’ve heard something of your story; in fact, everybody knows how you got here. I hope you’ll enjoy every minute of your stay.”

Will was a ruddy-cheeked young man of fully six feet, with tremendous shoulders and chest, and a voice that would compete, not without hope of victory, with a bass drum. His smile alone was enough to win him friends.

“Glad to meet you, Will,” said Clarence. “John here has been telling me all about you. He says you’re Prefect of the Senior Sodality. What does that mean?”

“Aren’t you a Catholic?”

“No.”

“Well, the Sodality is organized to honor the Blessed Mother of God, by getting its members to lead a good Catholic life and by doing good works. The Prefect is the leading officer; and he’s supposed, though it may not be always the case, to have special love for Mary and to show it in his life.”

“By George,” said Clarence, “here it is again. The first Catholic I ever met to talk with was a little girl with the gypsies, and almost as soon as she and I got to talking together, she began telling me about the Blessed Mother and singing her praises.”

“Was the girl a gypsy?” asked Will.

“No; she was captured in Ohio during the flood, last May.”

“Oh; that awful flood!” said Will, his cheerful grin deserting him. “I lost my little sister in that flood, too.”

“Are you from Ohio?”

“Yes, and my sister’s body wasn’t recovered till two weeks after she was drowned. Well, let’s change the subject. I hate to think of it.”

Within an hour Will Benton and Clarence had become fast friends. Within another, the much-wandering youth, satisfied that his adventures were over, had fallen into a dreamless sleep, little suspecting the amazing events that the morrow was destined to bring.

CHAPTER XVI

In which the Bright-eyed Goddess comes to bat again, and promises to win the game

A pillow flung by the accurate arm of Will Benton early the following morning caught the sleeping visitor on the head.

“Eh, what is it?” cried Clarence, sitting up.

“It’s sunrise, boy. Just look out that window and see how beautiful the new-born day can be when it wants to.”

“‘Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain top.’”

And as Clarence quoted the well-known lines, he jumped from bed and slipped quickly into his clothes.

“You read Shakespeare?” asked Benton, rubbing his eyes.

“Of course; I’ve been reading him off and on for the last two years. Say, what comes next?”

“We have morning prayers and Mass in a few minutes. Would you like to attend?”