The little tutor walked bravely over to the desk and bowing low laid a carefully written sheet of paper on the desk, thereby purposely allowing an opportunity for expression of opinion. But he had crossed the room and reached his place before anyone began to speak; at first it seemed as if nothing was going to be said on their part. Then the President at last made answer, speaking very deliberately, it seemed to Stacy:
"Well, Mr. Stacy, this is very sudden; very unexpected. We are surprised. Believe me, Mr. Stacy, in case the performance of your duties had not been satisfactory, we would have advised you."
"Furthermore, your work has been entirely satisfactory, has it not, Professor Thorne?"
"Entirely," echoed Professor Thorne, across the room.
The little tutor was baffled by the tones of the President. He thought they belied his words. Nobody seemed to be impressed as he had expected.
"It is my intention to leave to-morrow!" he exclaimed, excitedly, making an emphatic gesture with his hand.
"Surely, Mr. Stacy, you are laboring under some wrong impression. Surely, there is some misunderstanding. You are a little excited, Mr. Stacy. Perhaps you are a little overworked. You had better think it over before you make up your mind permanently."
Professor Thorne here spoke up: "Don't you think, Mr. Stacy, that it would be a little unwise on your own account. Pardon me, Mr. Stacy, but I understand your circumstances, and it would be rather late in the year to obtain another position now."
The President was about to say something further, but as he turned he saw on the young man's face a look as of a weak animal at bay; and he stopped.
"Don't you know why I'm leaving this place? I'll tell you," he exclaimed, excitedly; all his oratorical manner and assumed grandiloquence was forgotten with the rest of his speech. He almost screamed in his natural voice, "I'll tell you, I HATE you--all, every one." He swept his hand wildly around the circle, "From the oldest, gray-haired D.D. to those two conceited young assistants, you cold, intellectual, cultured, bloodless, unemotional, self-satisfied creatures--I HATE YOU. Of course _you_ don't care; you won't lose anything by my hate." He paused a moment, buttoned up his little coat and began again, the words pouring out of themselves: "I know I'm nobody; I know I'm not attractive, or cultured, but I'm a human being--if I'm not from New England--and I have a human heart. I have been here a whole month, and in that time what one of you has made a friendly advance?--has spoken a word of encouragement?--has even taken note of my existence, except as a machine paid to do a certain amount of work? I found that out that first day in chapel when your President told you all of the bargain he had made. He assured you that you were not cheated, as the article rented had had a good standing in his class. I wondered at the time he did not, in naming my good points like a horse, mention my college instead of saying _a good Eastern college_--that's what I can't stand. I could endure the treatment of myself, but those slurs on my college I cannot and will not stand. Stop! Don't get excited; don't try to explain anything. You don't want me to go, because you think you have a good, hard-working horse. You think to detain me by informing me of my poverty. That might do, but--but read that!" He snatched from his pocket the letter he had received that morning.