David was so glad to renew the old relations with Wallace that he did not wonder very much why there had been any lapse in them. On the journey Wallace took a Vergil out of his bag and began to study.
“I’m going to make up my Latin this vacation,” he explained. “I want to play ball next term.”
“Let me help you,” urged David. “I’ll translate with you if you like.”
“No, I told Ruth Davenport I wouldn’t let anybody help me after this, and I won’t. She got pretty fresh, taking me to task, and I’ll show her.”
Wallace wore an injured look as he settled down in his seat and began to study. After about half an hour, he glanced up. “Confound it, Dave, I’ve got to have help on this! Here, how does it go?”
And David spent most of the journey tutoring his friend, and had the satisfaction of feeling that in a way he was paying for his trip home.
CHAPTER VII
BLINDNESS
In the spring vacation David saw little of Wallace. He lunched one day at his friend’s house and felt that he was under Dr. Wallace’s particular scrutiny; it made him self-conscious. The surgeon, he observed, looked at him shrewdly from time to time, as if measuring him with some mental standard; David had an uncomfortable feeling that he fell short of what was expected.
However, the doctor’s only comment was favorable enough. “You lead the form in studies,” he said. “Lester tells me you’ve helped him in his work. I wish he would work hard enough not to need help.”