Will Cuppy, “Honors in Diplomacy”

Regarded with some justification as a humorist’s humorist, Will Cuppy wrote very little ordinary fiction, writing mostly for radio and the odd comic article or newspaper column. His life’s-work book, The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody, is a standard in midcentury humor. This story comes from a book published a few years after he graduated — Maroon Tales: University of Chicago Stories, in 1909.

I

Many seniors keep up a splendid interest in their studies during the Spring Quarter, even to cutting dances and meetings of the printing committee. And these are the wise. Foolish indeed are those who sit in the back row and match pennies; but occasionally they reform, for reasons more or less urgent. Bob Forrest, now, cultivated printed books and messy notes in the last days because he had wagered twenty dollars on his chances of getting a diploma. He said he would buy something useful with his winnings—a pipe-rack, maybe, or a new collar for the Zeta dog.

Curtis, who lived across the hall in Hitchcock, delivered the Recorder’s note as Forrest and Norry Norton were talking senior politics in Bob’s room. Forrest thought it looked like a chapel deficiency, but it was worse than that. It informed him, in the subtly ironical, heart-chilling phraseology known only to the faculty, that special examinations would be required in two of his courses. Whereupon Norton fixed the bet at even money, and Curtis left awkwardly, observing in a matter-of-fact tone that it was hard luck and that he was “in the same hole.” Forrest suggested pitch, smiling cooly at Norry’s unsympathetic comments, and silently cursing minutely and vigorously each syllable of the Recorder’s communication.

When a chronic loafer is held for senior “exams,” there’s not much hope for him. Norton dwelt on this point with glee, and revealed his plans for spending the twenty. He would give a feed, he said, and Forrest himself, in half-mourning, should be toast-master. He was undecided whether to order course by course or leave the whole thing to the head-waiter.

For Norry was convinced that his money was safe. It was well known that Forrest had reached his final year with less learning than any other senior since colleges began; and that his last Quarter had been his masterpiece of scholastic vagrancy. As the University of Chicago does not exist for such as he, no future senior can possibly be so worthless—a cheering or depressing thought, according to the point of view.

Of course, Forrest did the unexpected. Even Norry would not have supposed that he would slip from his room, interview two professors, and heed their words. The professors, who were preparing for vacations abroad, were inclined to be facetious. One of them said he was delighted to meet Mr. Forrest, a pleasure that had been denied him in the classroom. The other, leering horribly, said he often feared that young men lacked imagination. They agreed, with unconcealed satisfaction, that the specials would be rather difficult.

And while he was digesting this news and a late luncheon, he called on Curtis, whom he hardly knew. They considered the situation with great frankness, though Forrest felt that he was probably making a pathetic fool of himself.

“The trouble with me is, I haven’t any backbone,” Bob said, as he lounged, in truly invertebrate fashion, in Curtis’s largest chair. “All I want is moral support—I don’t like tutors. It’s mighty lucky we’re down in the same courses, because I specially want that diploma. If I fail to pry that twenty out of Norry Norton, I’ll consider my education a terrific fizzle.”

“I don’t suppose you’re doing it just for the bet, are you?” asked Curtis. “You must have other reasons.”

“I may have, but I can’t stop to think them up now, because I’ve got to go to a dinner-dance in the country, and I have to dress,” and Forrest ran a disapproving eye over his faultlessly clothed person. “But really, Curtis, I did not expect to be stuck for the finals.”

“I knew I was down,” said Curtis. “You can’t be a captain of industry and the big squeeze in the Phi Beta Kappa at one and the same time. You know how it goes to work your way.”

“Yes, I know,” sympathized Bob, who had not the slightest notion, except that a good many fellows were said to earn their education by doing some sort of stunts. He supposed they had to go slow on cabs and things until pay-day. As one of his friends put it, Forrest had thoughtlessly allowed himself to be the only son of wealthy and loving parents, and had tried to make amends by insisting on a thick skull, which kept him from realizing his opportunities.

“Well, it’s Monday now, and the ‘exams’ come on Friday,” Curtis figured briskly. “They’ll be three hours long. The Poly Con is five pounds of small print and the Sociology is the same, if not more so.”

“That’s easy,” said Bob, encouragingly. “No trouble at all. I’d start this afternoon if it weren’t for the party this evening. Tomorrow I have some golf finals that can’t be passed up. I’ll appear at seven tomorrow night for the getaway. See you then.”

He felt quite pleased with the arrangement as he dressed for the dinner-dance, but he soon forgot it because there was nobody about to discuss it with. His room was usually occupied by a small crowd of his friends, who explained that they liked to use his excellent tobacco and scarf-pins. If he happened to be dressing, they made remarks about golden-haired matinee idols and clothing advertisements and esthetics. They said it was a shame he was not Head Marshal, he was so decorative; and he looked so well in a track suit that they urged him to make another try for the team. Forrest preferred the costumes worn in golf and polo.

The dance was perfect, but for the mosquitoes. The girls had a cotillion, and Forrest and Norton, who stopped at Hitchcock on his way to the Rho house,’ had great fun tearing painted silk favors into queer shapes. Later, they finished their pitch series and talked through smoke.

“Isabelle Blythe was much interested in your degree,’’ volunteered Norry, raking in his game.

“You might leave me out of your talk.”

“We did,” smiled Norry. “We hardly mentioned you all evening.”

“Don’t say we, Norry. You’re too previous. It strikes me that Miss Blythe is rather fond of me.”

“Exactly. For I noticed that she invited me to the dance, and I heard her refuse to let you fill up her entire program. Let’s not argue about it, because it’s a clear case of freeze-out for you, Bobby.”

Bob shrugged his shoulders, and allowed Norry to trump a ten-spot.

“She talked a good deal about brother Tommy,” Norry resumed. “She thinks Tommy is O.K. Remember what a little sport he used to be!”

Forrest wasted an unfavorable adjective on Tommy Blythe. “I wonder if he’s still cutting up,” he said. “You know I’m responsible for him—promised his father. Lord, the things I told that infant’s trusting parent. It makes me blush. I guaranteed to subdue him, protect him, nurse him and send him forth a perfect specimen, morally, physically, spiritually and a few other ways. I haven’t seen the little wretch in two months, excepting at a meal or so. Must look him up.”

“Your affection for Tommy is indeed touching,” said Norry.

“I want him to pass his studies—that’s what freshmen are for. And I promised his father.’’

“I understand you are greatly stuck on his father.”

“Well, I think I stand in with Tommy’s family as well as some others.”

Norry smiled the smile of the very wise.

Bob inquired, “Did she say anything about his studies?”

“Maybe she did, but I heard so much airy persiflage that I’m not sure. Most of the senior fellows were having nightmares out on the lawn over finding jobs—regular funeral. About everybody was there.”

“Curtis wasn’t there.”

“Curtis?”

“The fellow across the hall. I just heard him come in and slam his door. I suppose he’s been out somewhere, working.”

“Speaking of work,” said Norry, “I’ll bet he’s as sore as a goat about getting caught on the specials. Those grave-digger fellows generally are.”

“No, I think you are wrong,” Bob ventured. “You can’t be a captain of industry and the leading deacon of the Phi Beta Kappa at one and the same time. Use your head.”

“You don’t even know him, Bob, so cork up. Now you’re not sore, of course. You’re just amused. You know you always made fun of diplomas and grinds.”

“Wrong again. I simply said I could not see the light that lies in a professor’s eyes. Also, that a degree was merely a question of being on the job. For instance, if you had been tending to business, you’d have caught my jack with that ace you’re holding back. You are a rotten fortune teller, Norry. Never shall it be said that I objected to being stuffed with knowledge.”

“Not if you saw plenty of oysters in the stuffing.”

“Don’t mix figures,” Bob retorted. “I’m no dead turkey, and if I were, I’d be blind. If you think my credits were all pearl-bearing, I’ll let you take a peek at my course-book.”

He rummaged numerous drawers and boxes, finally discovering the course-book in a pile of discarded magazines. Sprawled on the floor, he regarded the contents with puzzled frowns, while Norry, who lay on the cot, awaited his comment.

“This one,” he began, punctuating each entry with a dig of his paper-knife, “was about how you ought to live in a community apartment and buy cream-puffs and canned beans at a community kitchen so that the cook would have time to study the contemporary French composers. Clever scheme, only you’d have to live in a flat, which is impossible. Here’s English— Beowulf, Ecgtheow’s bairn — reminded me of an intoxicated buzz-saw. I remember the ‘prof asked Ted Larned who was the greatest American poet, and he said: ‘Why, I don’t know. I’ve never had this course before.’ He almost got canned for it. I took this German 3 to make up for deficient Physics in prep, school. Hello, here’s old Debater Socrates’ Republic—or is it Plato’s!”

“It’s immaterial,” murmured Norry. “Don’t stop to split hairs.”

“Ethics, now, was the best course I ever had. Stella Andrews and I used to play foolish-puzzle all hour. Poly Con 1—that was the difference between an entrepreneur and something else—probably a farmer. I dropped out of this one because the ‘prof said we couldn’t bluff him on references and quotation marks. He was a humorist, as it turned out. He asked me the first day where the Aleutian Islands were. I thought he said highlands, and bet on Scotland. I lost.”

“Why don’t you get up some light lessons for flat flunkers?” suggested Norton. “Your method would be original.”

“That reminds me of the course Grace Campbell took,’’ laughed Forrest. ‘‘ The girls had to go on a fake shopping tour, and Grace ordered seven double sirloins for a family of six, so that there would be one extra for the baby—she said babies were always so hungry. Here were some good ones last year. I could always count on two solid hours of sleep after a busy night. Which brings me to my present difficulties. My eight-thirty is the price of buttons in New Zealand, and the two o ‘clock is mostly defective children. I hate defective children. If I ever catch one of ’em—”

“Let me take twenty dollars, Bob,” exclaimed Norry.

“Really need it, or do you want to squander it on airships and peanuts?”

“I need it—haven’t tasted real food for a week—but I’m too proud to beg. I mean the twenty you were foolish enough to bet me. After listening to your recent discourse, I think we might as well cash in right now.’’

“You’re making the mistake of your young life.” Forrest tossed aside the course-book and stood against the wall, hands deep in pockets. “Norry, I believe you honestly think I’m an infernal blooming idiot,” he said.

“Let’s not go into that,” smiled Norton. “You would be sure to get angry. But don’t you care. You’ll be more of a social lion than ever. It’s getting to be quite the thing—to be dropped.”

“Dropped!”

That was all Forrest said. He began peeling off his clothes, whistling softly.

Much wisdom moved Norton to silence. He arose, cleared the table by the window—there were some girls’ photographs, one of Miss Isabelle Blythe—and constructed upon it, of books and bric-a-brac, a tottering shrine, on the top of which he propped two uncut volumes, flanked by a paper-knife and a huge pair of field-glasses.

Forrest’s “good night” was civil.

Norry glanced back at Hitchcock as he struck across the campus. A green-shaded lamp glowed in Curtis’s room. Behind the swaying net curtains of Forrest’s windows a livelier scene was depicted: A partially disrobed youth, outlined in statuesque defiance; suddenly a flying shower of books and papers; a head thrust out for an instant; then the swift descent of the blinds.

II

Curtis had dissatisfied black hair and earnest cheek-bones and a forehead that looked as if it could turn out A’s in every course. Perhaps it could, given the time, for, unlike Forrest, Curtis had done a few things thoroughly. He knew as much about business as Bob knew about polo ponies. They seemed certain to learn from each other.

Forrest decided at once that he must assume the leadership—that was one of his habits. After he had won his Tuesday golf match— that was another habit, winning things—he persuaded himself that the cramming would be more successful if prepared for in an artistic manner. As he was passing a theater when he reached this conclusion, he promptly bought box seats for “Silly Milly” and telephoned Curtis, who came protestingly, on Bob’s promise to begin work after the show. The entertainment proved so saddening that Forrest felt obliged to buy a highly-illuminated supper, which included jack-snipe and an enormous rabbit. He then ordered a package of sandwiches, and called a cab, not only because the sandwiches made it necessary, but that the ride to the campus might induce the correct state of mind for the midnight study period.

As sometimes happens, these two seniors began to wonder why they had held such queer opinions of each other. Forrest displayed great interest in Curtis’s work, and asked him what position he was filling. He had an immense admiration for people who could “hold down jobs.”

“I have not bought out any one concern,” said Curtis. “This quarter, I am a public typewriter, a solicitor of advertisements and a contributor to a lumber journal—I used to split kindling when I was a child.”

‘‘Then you’re a self-made man,” cried Bob. “I’ve heard it was a very fine thing. You ought to be all puffed up about it.”

“It’s nothing to crow over in my case,” said Curtis. “That’s mostly what got me hung up in my studies.”

Forrest dismissed the argument with a wave of his glove.

“Blow anyhow. Now there was my great-grandfather. He made himself. Father springs him on me every Sunday afternoon at two o’clock when I’m home. Great-grandfather used to walk sixty-three miles to school every morning and back again for luncheon and dinner. It was bitter cold the year round, and he had only a few shoes and scarcely any fur overcoats—father’s especially proud of that. I tell him he probably had a brougham waiting behind the barn. The old boy kept a diary, too— sounds like Caesar overcoming the Helvetians at one fell slap. He died in his prime, great-grandfather did.

“But you needn’t feel too chesty,” he cautioned Curtis, after advising the cabby not to overheat his “thoroughbred.” “You can’t be anything big nowadays unless you’ve been a poor little newsboy or a starving bootblack on Christmas Eve. Think of it! Here we are, being ruined in college, when we might be improving our time. We might even be chimney-sweeps. I consider that one of the greatest questions now confronting the American people.”

Curtis attempted, without success, to introduce the subject of Political Economy. Forrest was too much concerned with the problems of the nation. While Curtis was preparing his room for the cramming, his guest fell sound asleep in his chair, an unopened book hi his lap. He had tried to be decent.

Curtis slipped a note under Forrest’s door in the morning, calling attention to a conference at the Reynolds Club. Bob overslept, and reached the Club hi time to lunch at the Commons, where he met some friends. He left word that he had been kidnaped and carried to an honor society banquet. By midnight, when Curtis had finished his review, he had not returned.

Next morning he explained:

“I’m mighty sorry. Lost my books, too. I had all the fellows looking for them, but we couldn’t find them. That’s funny, because one was a red book and the other was green. I dropped a whole day, didn’t I?”

“I’m going to give you an old list of examination questions to see if you know anything whatever about Poly Con,” Curtis announced. “Take this and go somewhere and get busy.”

The answers were ready at noon. Most of them were meaningless; the rest were amusing.

“Don’t judge me too harshly,” said Forrest. “I went to the Club and was just beginning to get some sense out of my notes when one of those college quartets came in and sang ‘Sweet Evening Star.’ Did you ever hear ‘Sweet Evening Star’ as a quartet! I threw chairs at them, but they kept right on and when they started the ‘Hand-organ Sextet,’ I had to run for Cobb. But that was worse, on account of one of those poor, howling unfortunates who study Public Speaking aloud. Awfully sad case—perfectly hopeless. And one of the questions was about defective children. I believe they just do it to arouse sympathy. I’d like to ——”

“The trouble with you,” said Curtis, angrily, “is that your parents like you too much. You’re not going to be handed your diploma on a silver tray. If you care for my candid opinion, I’ll say this much. I think, after the chance you had—and after the big talk you put up— that it will be a dirty disgrace if you get kicked out of the class.”

Forrest selected a topaz pin. “You ought to go on the stage, Curtis,” he said. “I believe you have temperament.” And he swung out of the room.

Curtis called Norton in consultation.

“I don’t know much about this bet you have with Forrest, but I think you’ve won it, Norton,” he said. “He seems to have passed it up. I thought I should tell you about the arrangement we made, because you know him so well. I don’t see why he ever came to me in the first place.”

“That,” said Norry, “is one of the things that we can never know. And as far as that bet is concerned, I don’t want to win—never did. You may think it was a queer thing to do, but I put up that twenty for the sole and only purpose of trying to get him to work. I thought he would go after the degree just to fool me. He does things like that. I wonder that you took the trouble to help him.”

“I want to finish the job, now I’ve started it,” Curtis returned simply. “He is making a miserable farce of it, but I’m still hoping. The explanation is—I like him, Norton.”

“Yes, that’s what they all say. People like him, so they smooth away all the rough places. Somebody will insist upon expiring in his place when his time comes to croak.”

“Probably you’re right. He has lots of friends. There was a fellow up here only ten minutes ago looking for him—by the way, he asked for you, too. He said his name was Blythe.”

‘‘ Tommy Blythe!’’ exclaimed Norry. ‘‘ Don’t laugh, but Bob Forrest is that young person’s confidential adviser. He’d do anything for him. I believe he’d even study for him.”

Norry jumped up suddenly. “I—I’ve got an idea,” he cried.

“Did it bite you?”

“We’ll make a tutor of Bob. He must save Tommy Blythe from the wrath of the ‘profs’.”

“Do you call that an idea? It sounds more like a brain-gurgle.”

“Listen, Curtis, and hold me if I get dangerous. We have now discovered that moral suasion, refined cruelty and kindness are powerless. We must therefore finesse. I’m a head professor of finessing. Bob Forrest thinks he’s the only salvation of that freshman. He’s having remorse right now. We must make him think that the Grand Order of Flunkers is about to be conferred upon Tommy. We’ll give him the proper books, and he’ll study an arm off— for Tommy. Only, he might recognize the books.”

“He will not. He doesn’t even know their titles. But Tommy might put him wise.”

“We’ll bind and gag Tommy, if necessary,” and Norry looked as though he would enjoy the operation. “I’ll do picket duty.”

“It may work,” Curtis admitted; “and again, it may not. He has all night before him—the ‘exams’ come tomorrow. You give him these books—he thinks he lost them last night. They tell the whole thing, and if he just reads them, he is bound to get through the ‘exams.’ He has the head, if he applies himself. Now let’s adjourn to his room and wait for him.”

“I have a little the advantage of him on a certain proposition that may help some,” confessed Norry. “I’m in dead right myself, and I can use it to stir up his blood—he thinks he has a chance.”

Norry grinned broadly and passed a hand over one of his coat pockets. The pocket contained a small photograph of Miss Isabelle Blythe. He explained:

“Oh, it’s just a personal matter. You might call it a—a rivalry. But here he comes now, as the actorino said.”

The scheme worked smoothly. Norry was not even forced to lie as much as he had expected.

“That blamed freshman is going to flunk— I know he is,” growled Forrest. “I’ve been waiting for it. That’s why he was looking for me. I’m going to tutor him.”

“But you need the time for your own studies,” objected Norton.

“It’s suicidal,” Curtis groaned.

“Hang my own studies.” Forrest was pacing the floor. “Hang Tommy, too. He hasn’t any sense of responsibility. I’ll call him up now.”

“Oh, no, don’t do that!” Curtis said hastily. “I wm——»

“I was just starting for the Zeta house to see a fellow over there,” Norry broke in. “I’ll get Tommy and bring him here.”

Bob still walked the floor. Norry returned with two books. Tommy was out, but had left his books, said the scout.

“Give me the books,” thundered Forrest, with an inflection that would have put Lady Macbeth and the daggers to shame, as Curtis said afterward. “The little shrimp hasn’t even cut the pages.”

Norry winked. He was about to play his trump card. He said:

“I—er—I saw Isabelle Blythe. She hopes Tommy will pass his courses. She hopes you will, too.”

“She does?” muttered Bob. Then, “You two get out of here.” He ushered his friends to the door and closed it upon their eloquent backs.

“Curtis,” yawned Norton, as he tumbled into the big chair, “it’s developing beautifully. Tommy was really looking for me when he came up here—one of the Zeta fellows told me while I was supposed to be going after the books. Tommy’s sister is giving a dinner tomorrow for some of the graduating class and Tommy’s on my trail with an invitation. I’m glad I’m going to graduate, because nobody else qualifies. Wonder how old Bob would feel if he knew.”

The letter-slot in Forrest’s door did valiant service that evening. Curtis and Norton took turns squinting. Three minutes after the start, Forrest was seen to throw both books violently into the far corner. There was a period of suspense while he strolled about the room. He stopped once to examine some photographs. Then he recovered the books and began to snip the pages industriously. Frequent views showed him wading slowly through the green book and a box of stale-looking sandwiches, his position ranging from bolt upright in his chair to prone on the floor, half smothered in cushions. When Norton left at midnight, he reported that the patient was perspiring freely, breathing heavily, and just beginning the red book and a bag of apples. At two o’clock he was smoking a pipe and writing feverishly, a towel around his head. When Curtis rose at seven, Bob was reviewing both books and using profane language.

Curtis breakfasted alone. He next saw Forrest in the examination room, scribbling steadily and laboriously. It was the same at the afternoon special. Curtis hurried to the Gym. for a plunge when he had correctly answered the last question. He found Norry practising fancy diving. Forrest came soon. They finished the swim without talking, dressed, and strolled to the “C” Bench. It seemed the most appropriate place to go. Forrest broke the silence. “Well, I did it. I passed both ‘exams.’ I asked the ‘profs.’ Yes, that’s straight, fellows.”

Norton pulled a twenty-dollar gold piece from his pocket and handed it to the winner. “I guess you earned it,” he said briefly.

“Thanks,” laughed Forrest, flipping the coin in his hand; “I’d completely forgotten the bet. And before you ask me, I’ll say that I saw through your little scheme, and I greatly admire your nerve. I saw it in two minutes.”

“That must have been when you threw the books,” said Norry, brightening.

“Then why on earth did you keep on studying?” demanded Curtis.

“Ask Norry. If he thinks hard, he may guess why I did it.”

But Norry was gazing down the walk toward the Women’s Halls. Forrest also looked. It was Isabelle Blythe; and stubby little Tommy Blythe was with her, attempting to be dignified while holding a white parasol over his sister’s big white hat. Norton and Forrest went to meet them in front of Haskell.

“How did the specials come out, Mr. Forrest?” eagerly inquired Miss Blythe.

“Fine. Killed ’em both.”

“I’m so glad,” smiled Miss Blythe. “I was dreadfully anxious about it.”

“I knew you were,” and Forrest gave Norry an enlightening glance. “So I—I mean, I studied quite hard.”

“Yes, he studied quite some hard,” put in Norry.

“I think it’s just lovely,” said Miss Blythe. “Now you,” addressing the hopeful Norry, “were certain to get your degree, and so was I. But you,” and she smiled radiantly upon Forrest—” you are a hero. You did something really interesting.”

Norry wondered then why he had never before felt such an aversion for Forrest’s handsome features. Bob’s smile reminded him of a hyena. And he bided his time.

“Everybody’s getting to be so terribly wise,” said Miss Blythe. “Even Tommy got all B’s last quarter. He’s going out for honors.”

“I knew,” lied Forrest, “that he was very brilliant.”

“Aw, say,” remonstrated Tommy, cutting circles on the sidewalk with the toe of an elaborately buckled shoe.

“I hear you stopped at my room, Tommy,” Bob hinted.

“Yes.” Tommy hesitated and looked at his sister. “Isabelle’s giving one of those new-thought dinners tonight. The game is, to guess what you’re eating. That is, if you do manage to eat—I can’t. I was going to ask—”

“Tommy refused to attend, and was looking for a substitute,” interrupted Miss Blythe. And Norry’s confident grin froze on his face when she added:

“I think you deserve the reward, Mr. Forrest. You’ve worked so hard for your degree. The dinner’s to be very informal, so you may come right along with me.”

Without further ceremony, Tommy surrendered the parasol to Forrest and made off across the campus as if fearing more changes in his sister’s queer dinner plans.

“Good-by, Norry,” sang Bob. “Good-by, Curtis. Keep cheerful, Norry.”

They walked on, Bob Forrest and Isabella Blythe.

Norry went slowly back to the “C” Bench, and sat down beside Curtis.

“Curtis,” he said, “I’m getting altogether too generous. I need a long, long rest, or a sea voyage or something.”

“I begin to see why he studied all night,” observed Curtis, ponderously. “He’s interested in Tommy Blythe’s relatives. It looks like a family affair.”

“So does my twenty,” sighed Norry, gazing after the white parasol, just disappearing behind the trees. “I had hoped that he’d spend it on a steak. But he won’t. He’ll buy roses— pink ones. She’s very fond of them—big pink roses—with long stems.”