ANIEL MONROE, M.A., M.D., ScD., and so forth, and so forth, sat pondering, with a deep frown on his brow, scowling at a recently opened letter which he held in his hand. He was a young man, still well under thirty, in spite of the degrees he held from Toronto University in Canada, and from various institutions of learning in England, the United States, and Germany. The room he occupied was large, finished in natural wood, furnished with all the luxury of a modern club, and, indeed, it looked like an apartment belonging to some association devoted to athletics, On the walls hung boxing gloves, foils, and numerous other accessories to the strenuous life.
It was, in fact, the private office of the Professor of Physical Culture, pertaining to the University of Wissacompton, which, as everyone knows, is the third largest community of students west of Chicago. It is scarcely necessary to remind readers who are interested in such things that the Wissacompton University football team last year mowed down the chief men of the eastern colleges as if the Wissacomptons were a section of one of their own prairie fires; and all this was due to the masterly organization and training of young Dr. Monroe, Professor of Athletics, responsible for the physical condition of something like three thousand undergraduates.
Dr. Monroe was a Scotch Canadian, who had graduated at Toronto University, had taught school for a while in his native land, then had drifted across the border with an ever-increasing salary, until he reached the position he now held, and of all the instructors in Wissacompton, he was the most popular and the most respected, for he was the master of his trade, and withal so modest, so mild, so gentle and courteous, that it was impossible for the most sullen of men to dislike him. Left penniless, with a widowed mother and an invalid younger brother, Monroe had worked his way through college, and thus acquired the highest qualifications either as a teacher, or a physician, and it was also known that he could make a good living as a blacksmith or a carpenter. It as not to be wondered at, therefore, that the western young men who attended Wissacompton College, few of whom were overburdened with riches, should admire and respect an individual who had conquered difficulties as Monroe had done.
In personal appearance Dr. Monroe was as mild-mannered a man as ever knocked an astonished ruffian into the gutter. He was so well built and so finely proportioned that although one could not but admire him, few realized that his muscles were like tempered steel, nor suspected the wonderful athletic feats he could perform when put to it.
He was an excellent organizer, and carried on his work with four assistants whom he had himself trained, and so the first question that cropped up in his mind on reading his brother's letter answered itself. He might easily leave the University for a month or six weeks, and, on his return, find things pretty much as he had left them. That was one consolation, so he determined to ask the president for an extra vacation till Christmas time, although it was now the early part of November, with the College in full swing.
The letter which had so disturbed the usually placid current of Monroe's life, although from his brother, was not written in his brother's handwriting. It was dated at the City Hospital, Toronto, and ran as follows:—
"Poor old Peter," sighed the Doctor, as he read the letter once again. "What brutes they must be to abuse so gentle a creature. I must go and cheer him up, and, by Jove, I think I'll teach Pineknot school till the Christmas vacation comes on. It will be a change from University life."
Although Pineknot school is somewhat out of the way, Dan Monroe reached it without much trouble, for the railway brought him to within fourteen miles of the place, and a fine span of horses made light of the fourteen miles, for the sleighing was excellent, and the air crisp, delicious, inspiring. A teacher is not usually obtained except at midsummer, or early in the new year, so the Doctor found Pineknot school still closed, and old Scott hailed the newcomer with obvious gratification, because there had been a good deal of grumbling at the incident which had closed the school, not from any sympathy with the stricken teacher, but because numerous children were left at home and in mischief.