The results of the University examinations filled three sheets of the Winnipeg morning papers. With eager eyes and anxious hearts hundreds of the youth of Manitoba and the other western provinces scanned these lists. It was a veritable Day of Judgment, a day of glad surprises for the faithful in duty and the humble in heart, a day of Nemesis for the vainly self-confident slackers who had grounded their hopes upon eleventh hour cramming and lucky shots in exam papers. There were triumphs which won universal approval, others which received grudging praise.
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.""Yes, he is good, a little too good," said Ethel, ****** a little face. "Isn't it splendid about Larry Gwynne getting the Proficiency, and the first in Engineering? Now he is what I call a sport. Of course he doesn't go in for games much, but he's into everything, the Lit., the Dramatic Society, and Scuddy says he helped him tremendously with the Senior class in the Y. M. C. A. work."
"Yes," said Jane, "and the Register told Papa that the University had never graduated such a brilliant student. And Ramsay Dunn told me that he just ran the Athletic Association and was really responsible for the winning of the track team.""What a pity about Ramsay Dunn," said Ethel. "He just managed to scrape through. Do you know, the boys say he kept himself up mostly on whiskey-and-sodas through the exams. He must be awfully clever, and he is so good-looking.""Poor Ramsay," said Jane, "he has not had a very good chance. Imean, he has too much money. He is coming to dinner to-night, Ethel, and Frank Smart, too.""Oh, Frank Smart! They say he is doing awfully well. Father says he is one of the coming men in his profession. He is a great friend of yours, isn't he, Jane?" said Ethel, with a meaning smile.
"We have known him a long time," said Jane, ignoring the smile.
"We think a great deal of him."
"When have you seen Larry?" enquired Ethel. "He comes here a lot, doesn't he?""Yes. He says this is his Winnipeg home. I haven't seen him all to-day.""You don't mean to tell me!" exclaimed Ethel.
"I mean I haven't seen him to congratulate him on his medal. His mother will be so glad.""You know his people, don't you? Tell me about them. You see, Imay as well confess to you that I have a fearful crush on Larry.""I know," said Jane sympathetically.
"But," continued Ethel, "he is awfully difficult. His people are ranching, aren't they? And poor, I understand.""Yes, they are ranching," said Jane, "and Larry has had quite a hard time getting through. I had a lovely visit last fall with them.""Oh, tell me about it!" exclaimed Ethel. "I heard a little, you know, from Larry."For half an hour Jane dilated on her western visit to the Lakeside Farm.
"Oh, you lucky girl!" cried Ethel. "What a chance you had! To think of it! Three weeks, lonely rides, moonlight, and not a soul to butt in! Oh, Jane! I only wish I had had such a chance! Did nothing happen, Jane? Oh, come on now, you are too awfully oysteresque. Didn't he come across at all?"Jane's face glowed a dull red, but she made no pretence of failing to understand Ethel's meaning. "Oh, there is no nonsense of that kind with Larry," she said. "We are just good friends.""Good friends!" exclaimed Ethel indignantly. "That's just where he is so awfully maddening. I can't understand him. He has lots of red blood, and he is a sport, too. But somehow he never knows a girl from her brother. He treats me just the way he treats Bruce and Leslie. I often wonder what he would do if I kissed him. I've tried squeezing his hand.""Have you?" said Jane, with a delighted laugh. "What did he do?""Why, he never knew it. I could have killed him," said Ethel in disgust.
