Of the former, none of those, in the Junior year at least, gave more general satisfaction than did Jane Brown's in the winning of the German prize over Heinrich Kellerman, and for a number of reasons. In the first place Jane beat the German in his own language, at his own game, so to speak. Then, too, Jane, while a hard student, took her full share in college activities, and carried through these such a spirit of generosity and fidelity as made her liked and admired by the whole body of the students. Kellerman, on the other hand, was of that species of student known as a pot-hunter, who took no interest in college life, but devoted himself solely to the business of getting for himself everything that the college had to offer.
Perhaps Jane alone, of his fellow students, gave a single thought to the disappointment of the little Jew. She alone knew how keenly he had striven for the prize, and how surely he had counted upon winning it. She had the feeling, too, that somehow the class lists did not represent the relative scholarship of the Jew and herself. He knew more German than she. It was this feeling that prompted her to write him a note which brought an answer in formal and stilted English.
“Dear Miss Brown,” the answer ran, “I thank you for your beautiful note, which is so much like yourself that in reading it I could see your smile, which so constantly characterises you to all your friends. I confess to disappointment, but the disappointment is largely mitigated by the knowledge that the prize which I failed to acquire went to one who is so worthy of it, and for whom I cherish the emotions of profound esteem and good will. Your devoted and disappointed rival, Heinrich Kellerman.”
“Rather sporting of him, isn't it?” said Jane to her friend Ethel Murray, who had come to dinner.
“Sporting?” said Ethel. “It is the last thing I would have said about Kellerman.”
“That is the worst of prizes,” said Jane, “some one has to lose.”
“Just the way I feel about Mr. MacLean,” said Ethel. “He ought to have had the medal and not I. He knows more philosophy in a minute than I in a week.”
“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” said Jane judicially. “And though I am awfully glad you got it, Ethel, I am sorry for Mr. MacLean. You know he is working his way through college, and has to keep up a mission through the term. He is a good man.”