OF THIS TIME, OF THAT PLACE
101
face was agonized. "It means my graduation, my livelihood, my future.
Don't do this to me."
"It's done already."
Blackburn stood up. "I spoke rashly, sir, hastily. I had no intention,
no real intention, of seeing the Dean.
It
rests with you--entirely,
en·
tirely. I
hope
you will restore the first mark."
"Take the matter to the Dean or not, just ·as you choose. The grade
is
what you deserve and it stands."
Blackburn's head dropped. "And will I be failed at midterm, sir?"
"Of course."
From deep out of Blackburn's great chest rose a cry of anguish.
"Oh sir,
if
you want me to go down on my knees to you,
I
will,
I
will."
Howe looked at him in amazement.
"I
will, I will. On my knees, sir. This mustn't, mustn't happen."
He spoke so literally, meaning so very truly that his knees and
exactly his knees were involved and seeming to
think
that he was offering
IOJDething of tangible value to his teacher, that Howe, whose head had
become icy clear in the nonsensical drama, thought, "The boy is mad,"
and began to speculate fantastically whether something in himself attracted
or developed aberration. He could see himself standing absurdly before
the
Dean and saying, "I've found another. This time it's the Vice-president
of the Council, the manager of the debating team and secretary of Quill
ed Scroll."
One more such discovery, he thought, and he himself would be
discovered! And there, suddenly, Blackburn was on his knees with a
thump,
his huge thighs straining his trousers, his hand outstretched in a
great gesture of supplication.
With a cry, Howe shoved back his swivel chair and it rolled away
on its casters half across the little room. Blackburn knelt for a moment
to nothing at all, then got to his feet.
Howe rose abruptly. He said, "Blackburn, you will stop acting
like an
idiot. Dust your knees off, take your paper and get out. You've
behaved like a fool and a malicious person. You have half a term to do
a
decent job. Keep your silly mouth shut and try to do it. Now get out."
Blackburn's head was low. He raised it and there was a pious light
in
his
eyes. "Will you shake hands, sir?" he said. He thrust out his hand.
"I will not," Howe said.
Head and hand sank together. Blackburn picked up his blue-book
and
walked to the door. He turned and said, "Thank you, sir." His
back,
as he departed, was heavy with tragedy and stateliness.
IV.
After years of bad luck with the weather, the College had a perfect
day
for Commencement. It was wonderfully bright, the air so transparent,
tile
wind so brisk that no one could resist talking about it.
As
Howe set out for the campus he heard Hilda calling from the
lleci
yard. She called, "Professor, professor," and came running to him.
