Dad, what does ‘Mens sana in corpore sano’ mean? Mr. Edwards slightly lowered his Sunday paper and over the top of it frowned abstractedly at the boy on the window-seat. Eh? he asked. What was that?
‘Mens sana in corpore sano, ’ sir.
Oh! Mr. Edwards blinked through his reading glasses and rustled the paper. Finally, For a boy who has studied as much Latin as you have, he said disapprovingly, the question is extraordinary, to say the least. I’d advise you to-hm-find your dictionary, Steve. And Mr. Edwards again retired from sight. Steve, cross-legged on the broad seat that filled the library bay, a seat which commanded an uninterrupted view up and down the street, smiled into the open pamphlet he held. He doesn’t know, he said to himself with a chuckle. It’s something about your mind and your body, though. Never mind. He idly fluttered the leaves of the pamphlet and glanced out into the street to see if any friends were in sight. But it was Sunday afternoon, and rainy, and the wide, maple-bordered street, its neat artificial stone sidewalks shimmering with moisture, was quite deserted. With a sigh Steve went back to the pamphlet. It bore the inscription on the outer cover: Brimfield Academy, and, below, in parenthesis, William Torrence Foundation.
What does ‘William Torrence Foundation’ mean, dad? asked the boy