Will heaved a sigh, but said nothing.
“Look here, boys,” the winner of the prize interposed; “suppose that one of us had been asked by a cousin a long way off to give an opinion of his school-fellows, would it have been as mild and as sincere as the one Will gave? I know that a great many boys would have said far meaner things than Will did; for, when a boy comes to speak of his school-fellows, he will hardly ever say a word in their praise. I’ve often wondered why it is,” musingly, “and I think sometimes a boy is a blockhead, anyway. Well, perhaps it isn’t so; perhaps I’m mistaken. Come, Charley; be just to poor Will.”
“Listen to the orator!” mockingly observed a defeated competitor [not one of the six]. “He talks as though he made it a business to study a ‘school-fellow’s’ habits!”
“The prize has made an oracle and a hero of him,” chimed in another, who probably felt that there was more or less truth in the Sage’s remarks.
“What’s the name of his prize, anyway?” queried still another defeated one, with considerable interest in his tones, but not deigning to glance towards the victor.
“Oh, it’s some mighty good book, I suppose;” answered the first speaker. “In fact, so good, that it’s bad!”
The four inky-fingered youths who knew they would win, thought this so comical that they laughed derisively.
George’s eyes flashed fire and his blood boiled, but he said, as calmly as he could, “I’ve often noticed that boys that guess at things hardly ever hit the mark. Now, your ideas about this prize are very wild; for it’s about a midshipman’s cruise round the world.”
The four defeated ones scowled at him, and one of them said, as he turned to go, “Well, boys, we might as well be off, for these fellows don’t care for us, they say.”