“Louis Mortimer, sir,” replied Mr. Danby. “Either he is totally unfit for this class, or he is very idle; I can make nothing of him.”
Dr. Wilkinson fixed his eyes searchingly on Louis, and replied, in a tone of much displeasure:
“If you have the same fault to find the next two days, send him into a lower class. It is the most disgraceful idleness, Louis.”
Louis' heart swelled with sorrow and shame as the doctor walked away. He stood with downcast eyes and quivering lids, hardly able to restrain his tears, until the class was dismissed, and he was desired to stay in and learn his unsaid lesson.
Reginald followed his brother into the study, where Louis took his books to learn more quietly than he could do in the school-room.
“My dear Louis,” he said, “you must try; the doctor will be so displeased if you go into a lower class; and just think what a disgrace it will be.”
“I know,” said Louis, wiping his eyes: “I can't tell how it is, every thing seems to go wrong with me—I am not at all happy, and I am sure I wish to please everybody.”
“A great deal too much, dear Louis,” said Reginald. “You are always teaching everybody else, and you know you have scarcely any time for yourself. You must tell them you won't do it; I can't be always at your elbow; I've quarrelled more with the boys than ever I did, since you came, on your account.”
“Oh dear! I am sorry I came,” sighed Louis, “I do so long to be a little quiet. Reginald, dear, I am so sorry I should give you any trouble. Oh, I have lost all my happy thoughts, and I know every thing is sure to go wrong.”
Louis remained sadly silent for a few minutes, and then, raising his tearful eyes to his brother, who was sitting with his chin on his hands, watching him, he begged him to leave him, declaring he should not learn any thing while Reginald was with him.