“Is that you, David?”
“Yes, right here,” David answered.
“Lester and I will be finished in a few moments. We won’t keep you waiting long.”
“If it’s just about walking home, Mr. Dean,” Wallace said, “David needn’t stay; I shall be glad to walk home with you if you’ll let me.” He spoke with eagerness, and Mr. Dean in his reply showed pleasure.
“Thank you. All right, David; I won’t detain you then any longer.”
As David departed he felt that Wallace had found his presence unwelcome, and he was glad to remove himself from his position of involuntary listener and critic. Besides, he could make good use of the time in finishing his algebra exercises.
He returned to the schoolroom and was hard at work when Wallace entered, passed him with brisk steps crying, “I’m all right; off probation!” and, opening his desk, which was just behind David’s, tossed his book into it. Then, without waiting for any congratulations, Wallace hurried out to join Mr. Dean.
David, to his annoyance and perplexity, found that he had gone astray in some of his processes and that his solution was wrong. Inspection showed him where he had blundered; he opened his desk and looked for his eraser. It was not there, and he remembered having lent it to Wallace the night before. He got up and opened Wallace’s desk; the confusion of books and papers daunted him, but he proceeded to search. Then the topmost book, the one that Wallace had deposited there a few moments before, arrested his attention; it was not the edition of Vergil that the class used. He opened it out of curiosity and stood there gazing at its pages with a stricken interest.
The book was of that variety known in St. Timothy’s parlance as a “trot.” Alternating with the lines of Latin text were lines of English translation. The correctness and fluency of Wallace’s recitations were explained. So also was his huddling over his book, his shielding it so carefully from any one’s gaze.
David put the book down and closed the desk without carrying any further the search for the eraser.