FullReads

“‘Yes,’ says Andy, ‘a good many of them are sons of wealthy miners and stockmen. It’s very sad to see ’em wasting their opportunities this way.’

“At Christmas all the students went home to spend the holidays. We had a farewell blowout at the University, and Andy lectured on ‘Modern Music and Prehistoric Literature of the Archipelagos.’ Each one of the faculty answered to toasts, and compared me and Andy to Rockefeller and the Emperor Marcus Autolycus. I pounded on the table and yelled for Professor McCorkle; but it seems he wasn’t present on the occasion. I wanted a look at the man that Andy thought could earn $100 a week in philanthropy that was on the point of making an assignment.

“The students all left on the night train; and the town sounded as quiet as the campus of a correspondence school at midnight. When I went to the hotel I saw a light in Andy’s room, and I opened the door and walked in.

“There sat Andy and the faro dealer at a table dividing a two-foot high stack of currency in thousand-dollar packages.

“‘Correct,’ says Andy. ‘Thirty-one thousand apiece. Come in, Jeff,’ says he. ‘This is our share of the profits of the first half of the scholastic term of the World’s University, incorporated and philanthropated. Are you convinced now,’ says Andy, ‘that philanthropy when practiced in a business way is an art that blesses him who gives as well as him who receives?’

“‘Great!’ says I, feeling fine. ‘I’ll admit you are the doctor this time.’

“‘We’ll be leaving on the morning train,’ says Andy. ‘You’d better get your collars and cuffs and press clippings together.’

“‘Great!’ says I. ‘I’ll be ready. But, Andy,’ says I, ‘I wish I could have met that Professor James Darnley McCorkle before we went. I had a curiosity to know that man.’

“‘That’ll be easy,’ says Andy, turning around to the faro dealer.

“‘Jim,’ says Andy, ‘shake hands with Mr. Peters.'”