evidence; and
the discussions that ensued were never amiable. On the other hand, a
certain number of the most promising men in the class were invariably
drawn to him and, taking up his battles, defended him against all
detractors. The Permanent Officers had to admit that he got "results,"
but they shook their heads. Jerome Furbush was notoriously a "case."

Phil Meyers, instructor, had been graduated from a small western college
and had taken his Ph.D. at a large eastern university. He was what is
known as a "monographist," a thesis-writer; and it had become apparent
to all that he was not long for the Woodbridge world. Word had
repeatedly come through the somewhat devious channels of information
that he was "no good." His classes were doing shockingly bad work and
they were articulate in their disapproval of him. The coming June would
close his first appointment, and it had been tactfully broken to him
that he need not expect another.

Such was the personnel of the meeting in Mr. Dawson's office.

"I have called you together today, gentlemen," said Mr. Dawson after the
preliminary pleasantries, "to consider the advisability of changing our
course next year. It has been brought to my attention that there has
been some criticism of the course as it now stands. Although," he
continued, gazing at the blotter before him, "I could have wished that
this criticism might have been made first to me, rather than have
reached me indirectly, I am grateful for it at any time and welcome this
opportunity for discussing it."

The air had become electrified. Everyone understood that the criticism
referred to had come from only one source, Furbush, and that Dawson was
administering to him a public rebuke. Dawson remained staring at his
blotter when he finished, and there was complete silence for several
seconds. "Well?" he asked, raising his eyes. "Don't hesitate, gentlemen.
Although the course is largely of my making at present, there is no
reason why it should remain so, and I'm sure no one will welcome an
improvement more than I." Another pause. "Come, Jerry, won't you lead
the discussion?"

Furbush, who seemed to be waiting to be thus addressed, rather than to
presume to take the floor from his superior, Mr. Brainerd, smiled
charmingly. "I should frankly wish," he said, "that the discussion be
opened by one of you gentlemen, for I feel that my judgment in such a
matter is possibly not of much value. I confess that I am not in a