"The class is dismissed," he said. "Hallock, hold a snowball to your chin as you go home."
When the class had left the room, Roger washed his face at the sink in the corner, wiping his hands on a towel that was gray with age. Then, he dropped the towel and stood leaning against the table, head bowed, arms folded.
The gloaming increased. A cheerful whistle sounded in the hall and Ernest came in.
"Well, old top? Ready to go home?"
"Ern, do you know a girl named Anderson?"
"Yes, very pretty. Engaged to young Hallock, they say. What about her? Don't tell me you've begun to be interested again in petticoats."
"I had the deuce of a row with Hallock, just now," said Roger.
"Change your clothes as you tell me about it," suggested Ernest. "It's late."
Roger obediently started for the closet, talking from the door as he dressed. Ernest lighted his pipe and listened thoughtfully under the electric light he had turned on. He was a shorter man than Roger and stockily built. He was still very fair, with soft yellow hair already receding from a broad forehead. His eyes were beautiful, a deep violet, soft dreaming eyes that men as well as women trusted instinctively.
"I'm sure you've seen Miss Anderson," he said when Roger had finished. "She's a funny foolish little thing. Just the kind to attract an unsocialized grind like Hallock. I guess there was a good deal of a row in Rosenthal's class this morning. One of the seniors told me. Rosenthal said to Miss Anderson--say, Rog, you're not listening."
Roger picked up his hat. "I don't care what Rosenthal said. He always was a boor. The point with me is that I've lost my temper in the classroom for the last time. Come on, Ern."
They were crossing the snowy campus before Ernest spoke. Then he laid his hand on his friend's arm.
"The fool kid brought it on himself. I can see how he got worked up. You can be exasperating and he gave you what he'd like to have given Rosenthal. Nevertheless, no man can take a crack on the chin with a thank you, Roger."
Roger did not reply. They turned into River Street where the street lights flashed through the bare branches of the elms. An occasional sleigh jingled by. Lights glowed from pleasant windows where children were silhouetted against the curtains. Ernest stopped before the big, comfortable Wolf house.
"Come in to supper, Roger."
"I'll not be good company, Ern," but Roger's voice was wistful.
"Come along! Mother doesn't mind your grouches, and I guess the rest of us can endure one more."