The college authorities had not been satisfied, for some time, with his
clerical labors, and some of them thought that his stage performance--an
"exhibition" one of them termed it--called for reproof, or more. They laid
their heads together and Lemoyne and Cope were not long in learning their
decision. Lemoyne was pronounced a useless element in one field, a
discrepant element in another, a detriment in both. His essentially slight
connection with the real life of the University came to be more fully
recognized. Alma Mater, in fine, could do without him, and meant to.
Censure was the lot of the indignant boys who officered the society, and
who asked Lemoyne to withdraw; and complete scission from the nourishing
vine of Knowledge was his final fate.
No occupation; no source of income. Winnebago was cold; nor was it to be
warmed into ardor by press-notices. It had seen too many already and was
tired of them.
The two young men conferred. Again Basil Randolph was their hope.
"He ought to be able to do something for me in the city," said Lemoyne.
"He's acquainted in business circles, isn't he?"
Cope bent over him--paler, thinner, more solicitous.
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