point an additionally suggestive emphasis to his slight and slender
frame. No one knew how the title originated or how it came to be
bestowed upon the professor; but its appropriateness had at once
fastened the term and every entering class received it as a heritage
from those which had preceded it.

Will Phelps already had acquired a keen dislike for the man, and he had
laughed heartily when Mott one night had declared that the student body
had been compelled to give Professor Hanson the new name he had
received. "You see," Mott had said, "the faculty and the trustees
decide what titles a man can wear _after_ his name; so it's only fair
that the students should decide what titles he shall wear _before_ his
name. Now this man's name used to be simply John Hanson. Then some
college or other said it should be John Hanson, PH.D. Well, the students
here have only gone a step further and they've not taken anything away
from the old fellow. They've added to him, that's what they have; and
now it's Prof. Splinter John Hanson, PH.D. He ought to be grateful, but
it's a cold world and I sometimes fear he doesn't appreciate what was
done for him. In fact such bestowments are rarely received as they
should be."

The suggestion Will's room-mate had made that Peter John soon might take
Splinter's place had recalled his own difficulties with the man, but
soon even the thoughts of the unpopular professor of Greek were
forgotten in the new interest that was aroused by the entrance into the
room of three young men who were at once recognized as members of the
junior class.