The Rebellion of Yale Marratt Read Online Free

literature." Pat walked to the door. "You stay here with your

Mother while I look up Dean Tracy. Just get it into your head that you're

going to college. I'm going to see that you get an education and finish

cooking some of your half-baked ideas."

Pat found Dean Tracy near the gym supervising several workmen who were

completing the erection of an outdoor stage. The Dean's expression implied

that he was busy now. He would talk to Pat later. Pat ignored it. "I want

your advice," he said to the reluctant Tracy. "For the past three years

I have donated five thousand dollars a year to this institution. That's

pretty good money for times like these. It would seem to me that with

this trifling incentive, I should now be pleased to hear that my son had

been accepted into one of the better colleges. I understand that you,

yourself, have some affiliations with Harvard. That should have made it

possible to smooth the way for Yale."

Dean Tracy, with years of experience in dealing with irate parents,

refused to rise to Pat's anger. "Well, I did graduate from Harvard,

many, many years ago," he smiled. "But you know how it is with

Yale and Harvard." The smile faded from his face when he noted Pat's

expression. "Sorry for the pun, Mr. Marratt. But, I don't believe that

I ever asked Yale how he came by such an unusual name."

Pat grumbled something about it being his wife's maiden name. For the

second time that day he was reminded of his youth. It seemed an eternity

ago. He had finished the International Correspondence courses in

Business Administration and had taken a job as assistant accountant in

one of the A & P branches. Barbara was three years old. Liz was pregnant

again. "If he is a boy, could we name him Yale?" she asked him. "Dad

would be so pleased."

In those days, Liz's father had been vice-president of the Midhaven

National Bank. Since Pat had begun to have visions of the future Marratt

Corporation, and would need a loan to get started, the boy was christened

Yale Marratt by his grandfather, who was happy to have the family name

survive in this fashion.

"I wish I could help you, Mr. Marratt," Dean Tracy said, fiddling

nervously with a pipe that he had taken from the pocket of his tweed

jacket. How could he tell this man that in all probability if it hadn't

been for Patrick Marratt's donations to Buxton Academy, the faculty

would have recommended that Yale not graduate with his class. Either

way it was an insult. Marratt had a right to expect that Buxton would

have prepared his son for one of the better Eastern colleges.

"While I have a few connections at Harvard," Tracy admitted, "there

is nothing I can do. Yale only passed the College Board examinations

in English . . . and that exactly reflects his work at Buxton. This

shouldn't be a surprise to you, Mr. Marratt. I have written you several

letters. Your son has a brilliant mind. He has probably read more widely

than any student we have ever had at Buxton. Unfortunately, whatever he

has learned, he could just as well have learned on his own. I believe

I have brought this up before with you. Yale does just exactly what he

wants to do. When he should have been applying himself to his courses in

mathematics and science, we discovered that he had been spending all of

his time studying Greek philosophy. That we don't happen to have courses

at Buxton in Greek philosophy didn't seem to deter him. That he barely

passed Chemistry and Geometry didn't disturb him in the least. I gather

from several conversations with him that he has no interest in going

to college. To be perfectly frank, Mr. Marratt, I have been unable to

reach through to whatever it is that makes Yale tick. It seems to me he

might be the type to let go his own way and see what develops. He's a

very quiet boy. You've no concern on that score."

"Listen," Pat fairly snarled, "I may be fairly well off, but I'm not

permitting my only son to drift aimlessly through life.