Nat Wheeler didn't care where his son went to school, but he,
too, took it for granted that the religious institution was
cheaper than the State University; and that because the students
there looked shabbier they were less likely to become too
knowing, and to be offensively intelligent at home. However, he
referred the matter to Bayliss one day when he was in town.

"Claude's got some notion he wants to go to the State University
this winter."

Bayliss at once assumed that wise,
better-be-prepared-for-the-worst expression which had made him
seem shrewd and seasoned from boyhood. "I don't see any point in
changing unless he's got good reasons."

"Well, he thinks that bunch of parsons at the Temple don't make
first-rate teachers."

"I expect they can teach Claude quite a bit yet. If he gets in
with that fast football crowd at the State, there'll be no
holding him." For some reason Bayliss detested football. "This
athletic business is a good deal over-done. If Claude wants
exercise, he might put in the fall wheat."

That night Mr. Wheeler brought the subject up at supper,
questioned Claude, and tried to get at the cause of his
discontent. His manner was jocular, as usual, and Claude hated
any public discussion of his personal affairs. He was afraid of
his father's humour when it got too near him.