Runagates in Scarceness. O.C. Edwards

was not sure he saw the connection—to seminary. Wilson stood up when he saw his professor entering, which revealed he was wearing narrow-legged olive green slacks, a bright yellow dress shirt, and a vivid plaid tie that the Canon could only consider regrettable. How nice that Wilson would be in clericals in a couple of years, and that such sartorial excesses would be curbed. Yet he would probably want to wear those new clergy shirts being put out in a rainbow of loud colors.

      “Good evening, Mr. Wilson. Your zeal is commendable, but I imagine it makes for a bleak weekend for Mrs. Wilson. Do you really need to study so late?”

      “I do, Doc. Being a business major did not prepare me for this kind of work. To tell the truth, I never was much of a student. It is rough on Sherry, but I keep thinking how much rougher it would be on her if I didn’t do it. She is sacrificing so much for me to be here that I can’t let her down by flunking out. But for the last hour I might as well have not been here.”

      “Oh, why is that?”

      “It’s Seth Clarke. You may not know, but he’s been my best buddy here. We’re not like these young kids just out of college. The work comes harder for us, and we don’t see things the same way they do. I’ve been worried about Seth for some time. I hope I’m not telling tales out of school, but things haven’t been going well between him and Sheila.”

      To ease Wilson’s discomfort, Bothwell said, “I gathered as much.”