“And only a month ago I was in danger of being bilged,” remarked Ralph to Creelton when they entered their room.
Creelton did not answer, but slammed things around in a very angry way.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Ralph in surprise.
“Do you think I like being cooked by everybody?” snapped Creelton. “You and Bollup and Himski all came out ahead of me; I stood number seven; I ought to have stood one.”
“If you can only make a 3.32 on such an easy exam you’ve no right to stand even number seven,” returned Ralph with spirit. “As you didn’t deliver the goods and other people did, I fail to agree that you should have stood number one or any number higher than the one given you.”
“You talk mighty big for a man whom I saved from bilging in French last term,” retorted Creelton.
“You offered to help me; I didn’t ask it. And you did help me a great deal and I thanked you then and I thank you now. But that has nothing whatever to do with the matter we’re talking about.”
“Great heavens! Will you shut up? I wish I had never seen you. Oh, I can’t stand it!” And Creelton burst into tears, and dropping heavily into a chair by the study table, he flung his head down on his arms and sobbed convulsively.
“Why, Creel, don’t feel badly, old fellow; I’m awfully sorry,” and Ralph, much touched as well as astonished, went to Creelton and tried to comfort him, but to no avail. Then, much perplexed, he left the room and went off to see Bollup. Later when he returned, Creelton, now entirely over his sad feelings, said: “Os, please excuse and forgive my words. I cannot tell you how disappointed I was; I had counted so much on standing number one; and getting class rank of seven was a bitter blow to me; I just gave way to my feelings.”
“Don’t speak of it—it’s all right; let’s talk of something else,” returned Ralph. “It seems glorious to stand number one, but I’ll never keep it. You may get it next month; cheer up, Creel.”