But it was no light task to remain at the top of the senior class, or even near it, for there were 281 bright seniors in plenty, including the studious Polly Vane, who seemed the brightest of all. But Dave plugged away, day after day, resolved to keep at it until the very last. He was writing on his theme and had it about half finished.
“One month more and it will all be over but the shouting,” said Roger one day, as he came into the room where Dave was studying.
“All over but the shouting or weeping,” returned Phil, who was present. “I am afraid some of the fellows will do more weeping than cheering,” he added, grimly.
“Let us hope that everybody passes,” said Dave, looking up with a quiet smile.
“Such a thing has never been done,” said Ben. “Somebody is bound to drop by the wayside—I hope it isn’t yours truly,” and he sank his head again into his book.
“I think old Haskers is commencing to tighten the screws again,” said Buster. “He let up for a while, after the wild man was caught, but yesterday and to-day—phew! we caught it, didn’t we?”
“We sure did!” cried Phil. “I can’t understand that man. Why is he a teacher when he just naturally hates boys?”
“That’s a conundrum that can’t be answered,” said the senator’s son.
“Well, we won’t weep on leaving him,” remarked Luke, dryly. 282
“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” said Shadow. “Once on a time a man in an auto ran into a boy carrying a cat in a basket. He didn’t hurt the boy much but he killed the cat. Says he, ‘I am sorry, my boy, and I’ll pay you for the cat. How much?’ ‘I—I don’t know,’ blubbered the boy. ‘Will two dollars do?’ asked the man. ‘Yes,’ says the boy, and took the money. ‘Were you taking the cat home?’ asked the man, when he was ready to drive on. ‘No,’ said the boy. ‘I was going to take him down to the canal and drown him!’” And there was a smile over Shadow’s yarn.