“No, I haven’t. I wish I had. I wish when to-morrow morning came I’d forget every single thing about school until eleven o’clock. What’s the use of going to an old school when you’ve got a job? I know enough already.”
“I don’t,” said Harry earnestly. “I think it’s a splendid chance. Why, Ted, we’re lucky to have it.”
“Then I’d rather be unlucky,” asserted Teddy stubbornly. “I’d rather hang around with the old kettles and pans all my life than be chased off to a silly school.”
There was a moment’s silence after Teddy’s grumbling speech. Then Harry said, “I hope we are put in the same division.”
“We won’t be. You know more’n I do, and you use better grammar. How far did you go in arithmetic?”
“I was just through percentage when I left school,” Harry made reply.
“You’ve got me beaten a mile. I only went as far as decimal fractions. I don’t know much about ’em, either. Don’t know that I want to.”
“Yes, you do. You must try to do your best in school, as well as in your department. I think if you’d try not to use so much slang, you’d find your grammar improved.” Harry regarded the red-haired boy with an anxious solicitude, that quite took away the impression that he was attempting to dictate to his little companion.
“See here, Harry,” Teddy’s black eyes were fixed earnestly on the other lad, “if any of the fellows I knew at school had handed me a lot of goody-goody talk, I’d have told ’em to shut up pretty quick, but somehow I don’t mind what you say to me. I guess it’s because I like you, and I wouldn’t be su’prised if you are pretty near right. I’ll try to get along in the old school, just because you want me to.”