In his senior year he left the team. He had become so thin and weak that one day he was taken by some second year students for a freshman, an incident which humiliated him terribly. He became known as something of a prodigy a senior who was surely no more than sixteen and he was often shocked at the life experience of some of his classmates. His studies seemed harder to him he felt that they were too difficult. He had heard his classmates speak of St. Midas's, the famous prep school, at which so many of them had prepared for college, and he made up his mind to enter St. Midas's after his graduation, where the life among boys his own size would be more natural and comfortable to him.
Upon his graduation in 1914 he went home to Baltimore with his Harvard diploma in his pocket. Hildegarde moved to Italy, so Benjamin went to stay with his son, Roscoe. But though he was welcomed there, Roscoe obviously had no warm feeling toward him his son seemed irritated to see Benjamin, who was walking about the house in his sad youthful dreams. Roscoe was married now and had a good position in Baltimore life, and he wanted no scandal in connection with his family.
Benjamin was no longer persona grata with the debutantes and younger college men, he found himself alone, only three or four fifteen-year-old neighbor boys were his companions. His idea of going to St. Midas's school came back to him.
«Listen», he said to Roscoe one day, «I've told you over and over that I want to go to prep school».
«Well, go, then», answered Roscoe coldly. The matter was unpleasant to him, and he wished to avoid a discussion.
«I can't go alone», said Benjamin helplessly. «You'll have to take me up there».
«I have no time», declared Roscoe suddenly. He looked uneasily at his father. «As a matter of fact», he added, «you'd better stop . You'd better not go on with this business any longer. You'd better better», he paused and his face turned red as he was trying to find words «you'd better turn around and start back the other way. This has gone too far to be a joke. It isn't funny any longer. You you behave yourself!»
Benjamin looked at him, close to tears.
«And another thing», continued Roscoe, «when visitors are in the house I want you to call me Uncle not Roscoe,
but Uncle, do you understand? It looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my first name. Perhaps you'd better call me Uncle all the time, so you'll get used to it ».
With an angry look at his father, Roscoe
turned away
Chapter 10
Benjamin opened a book of boys' stories, The Boy Scouts in Bimini Bay, and began to read. But he found himself thinking about the war. America hadjoined the Allied forces, and Benjamin wanted to join the army too, but, alas, sixteen was the minimum age, and he looked much younger. His true age, which was fifty-seven, was too old for the army.
There was a knock at his door, and the man handed him an official letter addressed to Mr. Benjamin Button. Benjamin opened it, and read the text with delight. It informed him that many reserve officers who had served in the Spanish- American War were called back into service with a higher position, so he got his position as brigadier-general in the United States army with orders to report immediately.
Benjamin jumped to his feet trembling with enthusiasm. This was what he had wanted. Ten minutes later he entered a large tailor's shop on Charles Street, and asked in his high boy's voice to be measured for a uniform.
«Want to play soldier, sonny?» demanded a clerk casually.
Benjamin was furious. «Look here! Never mind what I want!» he protested angrily. «My name's Button and I live on Mt. Vernon Place, so you know I'm good for it ».
«Well», admitted the clerk with hesitation, «if you're not, I guess your daddy is, all right».
Benjamin was measured, and a week later his uniform was ready. He had difficulty in getting the proper general's insignia because the dealer insisted that a nice badge would look just as well and be much more fun to play with.
Saying nothing to Roscoe, he left the house one night and went by train to military camp, in South Carolina, where he was going to command a military brigade. On a hot April day he approached the entrance to the camp, paid the taxi driver who had brought him from the station, and turned to the guard.
«Get some one to carry my luggage!» he commanded.