His name headed the list of seven competitors . Roger Brooks , who was at his side , read over the list aloud : '' ` Elliott H. Campbell , ninety-two . ' I said you 'd do it , my boy . ` Edward Stone , ninety-one ' -- old Ned ran you close , did n't he ? But of course with that name he 'd no show . ` Kay Milton , eighty-eight . ' Who 'd have thought slow-going old Kay would have pulled up so well ? ` Seddon Brown , eighty-seven ; Oliver Field , eighty-four ; Arthur McIntyre , eighty-two ' -- a very respectable little trio . And ` Carl McLean , seventy . ' Whew ! what a drop ! Just saved his distance . It was only his name took him in , of course . He knew you were n't supposed to be strong in mathematics . '' Before Elliott could say anything , a professor emerged from the president 's private room , bearing the report of a Freshman examination , which he proceeded to post on the Freshman bulletin board , and the rush of the students in that direction left Elliott and Roger free of the crowd . They seized the opportunity to escape . Elliott drew a long breath as they crossed the campus in the fresh April sunshine , where the buds were swelling on the fine old chestnuts and elms that surrounded Marwood 's red brick walls . `` That has lifted a great weight off my mind , '' he said frankly . `` A good deal depended on my winning the Fraser . I could n't have come back next year if I had n't got it .
That four hundred will put me through the rest XXXXX my course . ''
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