“The scholars was a fine lot of young men, and me and Andy was as proud of ’em as if they belonged to our own family,
“But one day about the last of October Andy comes to me and asks if I have any idea how much money we had left in the bank. I guesses about sixteen thousand. ‘Our balance,’ says Andy, ‘is $821.62.’
“‘What!’ says I, with a kind of a yell. ‘Do you mean to tell me that them infernal clod-hopping, dough-headed, pup-faced, goose-brained, gate-stealing, rabbit-eared sons of horse thieves have soaked us for that much?’
“‘No less,’ says Andy.
“‘Then, to Helvetia with philanthropy,’ says I.
“‘Not necessarily,’ says Andy. ‘Philanthropy,’ says he, ‘when run on a good business basis is one of the best grafts going. I’ll look into the matter and see if it can’t be straightened out.’
“The next week I am looking over the payroll of our faculty when I run across a new name—Professor James Darnley McCorkle, chair of mathematics; salary $100 per week. I yells so loud that Andy runs in quick.
“‘What’s this,’ says I. ‘A professor of mathematics at more than $5,000 a year? How did this
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