John Wesley, Jr. | Page 3

the world to
John Wesley, Jr.
The Epworth League of First Church, Delafield, was giving one of its
fairly frequent socials. The program had gone at top speed for more
than an hour. All that noise could do, re-enforced by that peculiar
emanation by youth termed "pep," had been drawn upon to glorify a
certain forthcoming event with whose name everybody seemed to be
familiar, for all called it simply "the Institute."

Pennants, posters, and photographs supplied a sort of pictorial noise,
the better to advertise this evidently remarkable event, which, one
might gather, was a yearly affair held during the summer vacation at
the seat of Cartwright College.
The yells and songs, the cheers and games and reminiscences,
re-enforced the noisy decorations. At the last, in one of those intense
moments of quiet which young people can produce as by magic, came a
neat little speech whose purpose was highly praiseworthy. But, to John
Wesley, Jr., it ended on the wrong note. Another listener took mental
exception to it, though his anxiety proved to be groundless.
It was a recruiting speech, directed at anybody and everybody who had
not yet decided to attend the Institute.
The speaker was, if anything, a trifle more cautious than canny when he
came to his "in conclusion," and his zeal touched the words with
anti-climax.
"Of course," he said, "since ten, or at most twelve, is our quota, we are
not quite free to encourage the attendance of everybody, particularly of
our younger members. They have hardly reached the age where the
Institute could be a benefit to them, and their natural inclination to
make the week a period of good times and mere pleasure would
seriously interfere with the interests of others more mature and serious
minded."
Now, the pastor of the church, the Rev. Walter Drury, would have put
that differently, he said to himself. If it produced any bad effects it
would need to be corrected, certainly.
Just then, amid the inevitable applause, and the dismissal of the brief
formal assembly for the social half-hour, something snapped inside of
John Wesley, Jr., and it was the feeling of it which prompted him to say,
"If anybody expects me to stay away from Institute this year, he has got
a surprise coming, that's all."
You see, John Wesley, Jr., had just been graduated from high school,

and his family expected him to go to college in the fall, though he faced
that expectation without much enthusiasm. He felt his new freedom. He
addressed his rebellious remark to the League president, Marcia Dayne,
a sensible girl whom he had known as long as he had known anybody
in the church.
"Last year everybody said I was too young. They all talked the way he
did just now. But they can't say I am too young now," and with that
easy skill which is one of the secrets of youth, he managed to
contemplate himself, serenely conscious that he was personable and
"right."
The girl turned to him with a gesture of surprise.
"But I thought your father had agreed to let you take that trip to
Chicago you have been saving up for. Will he let you go to the Institute
too?"
"Chicago can wait," said John Wesley, Jr., grandly. "Dad did say I
could go to Chicago to see my cousins, or I could go anywhere else that
I wanted. Well, I am going to the Institute. It's my money, and, besides,
I am tired of being told I am too young. A fellow's got to grow up some
time."
"That's all right," said Marcia, "but what's your special interest in the
Institute? Do you truly want to go? How do you know what an Institute
is like?"
Her voice carried further than Marcia thought, and a man who seemed a
little too mature to be one of the young people, turned toward her. He
was smiling, and any time these four years the town would have told
you there wasn't a friendlier smile inside the city limits. He was in
business dress, and suggested anything but the parson in his bearing,
but through and through he looked the good minister that he was.
Marcia moved toward him with an unspoken appeal. She wanted help.
He was waiting for that signal, for he depended a good deal on Marcia.
And he was still worried about that unlucky speech.

"Well, Marcia, are you telling J.W. what the Institute really is?" he
asked.
"No, Mr. Drury, I'm not. I'm too much surprised at finding that he's
about decided to go. You're just in time to tell him for me. I want him
to get it right, and straight."
"Well," the pastor responded, "I'm glad of that. If he's really going, he'll
find out that definitions are