Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (269 page)

"Can
it
be
------
?"
he
thought
to
himself,
or
rather,
scarcely
dared

to
think.

He
went
to
his
father.
"I
am
grown,"
he
announced
determinedly. "I
want
to
put
on
long
trousers."

His
father
hesitated.
"Well,"
he
said
finally,
"I
don't
know.
Fourteen
is
the
age
for
putting
on
long
trousers—and
you
are
only
twelve."

"But
you'll
have
to
admit,"
protested
Benjamin,
"that
I'm
big
for my
age."

His
father
looked
at
him
with
illusory
speculation.
"Oh,
I'm
not so
sure
of
that,"
he
said.
"I
was
as
big
as
you,
when
I
was
twelve."

This
was
not
true—it
was
all
part
of
Roger
Button's
silent
agreement
with
himself
to
believe
in
his
son's
normality.

Finally
a
compromise
was
reached.
Benjamin
was
to
continue
to dye
his
hair.
He
was
to
make
a
better
attempt
to
play
with
boys
of his
own
age.
He
was
not
to
wear
his
spectacles
or
carry
a
cane
in
the street.
In
return
for
these
concessions
he
was
allowed
his
first
suit of
long
trousers.
.
.
.

4

Of
the
life
of
Benjamin
Button
between
his
twelfth
and
twenty-first
year
I
intend
to
say
little.
Suffice
to
record
that
they
were
years of
normal
ungrowth.
When
Benjamin
was
eighteen
he
was
erect
as
a man
of
fifty;
he
had
more
hair
and
it
was
of
a
dark
gray;
his
step
was firm,
his
voice
had
lost
its
cracked
quaver
and
descended
to
a
healthy baritone.
So
his
father
sent
him
up
to
Connecticut
to
take
examinations
for
entrance
to
Yale
College.
Benjamin
passed
his
examination and
became
a
member
of
the
freshman
class.

On
the
third
day
following
his
matriculation
he
received
a
notification
from
Mr.
Hart,
the
college
registrar,
to
call
at
his
office
and arrange
his
schedule.
Benjamin,
glancing
in
the
mirror,
decided
that his
hair
needed
a
new
application
of
its
brown
dye,
but
an
anxious inspection
of
his
bureau
drawer
disclosed
that
the
dye
bottle
was
not there.
Then
he
remembered—he
had
emptied
it
the
day
before
and thrown
it
away.

He
was
in
a
dilemma.
He
was
due
at
the
registrar's
in
five
minutes. There
seemed
to
be
no
help
for
it—he
must
go
as
he
was.
He
did.

"Good
morning,"
said
the
registrar
politely.
"You've
come
to
inquire
about
your
son."

"Why,
as
a
matter
of
fact,
my
name's
Button
---
"
began
Benjamin,

but
Mr.
Hart
cut
him
off.

"I'm
very
glad
to
meet
you,
Mr.
Button.
I'm
expecting
your
son here
any
minute."

"That's
me!"
burst
out
Benjamin.
"I'm
a
freshman."

"What!"

"I'm
a
freshman." "Surely
you're
joking." "Not
at
all."

The
registrar
frowned
and
glanced
at
a
card
before
him.
"Why, I
have
Mr.
Benjamin
Button's
age
down
here
as
eighteen."