“He is! he is—he is June himself, and no mistake!” cried Harry, with vehemence.
“The prime of the year, is not it?” said the doctor, smiling, as he stroked down the blue sleeve, as if he thought that generous July did not fall far short of it.
“That he is!” exclaimed Harry. “I have never met one fellow like him.”
“It will be a chance if you ever do,” said Dr. May. “That is better than scholarships!”
“It should have been both,” said Harry.
“Norman thinks the disappointment has been very good for him,” said the doctor.
“Perhaps it made him what he is now. All success is no discipline, you know.”
Harry looked as if he did not know.
“Perhaps you will understand better by-and-by, but this I can tell you, Harry, that the patient bearing of his vexation has done more to renew Norman’s spirits than all his prosperity. See if if has not. I believe it is harder to every one of us, than to him. To Ethel, especially, it is a struggle to be in charity with the Andersons.”
“In charity!” repeated Harry. “Papa! you don’t want us to like a horrid, sneaking, mean-spirited pair like those, that have used Norman in that shameful way?”