“Why? because I suspect you and that fellow Bruce of wishing to treat him as you treated Hazlet.”
“I’ve no designs against him whatever.”
“Well, I won’t ask him,—that’s flat.”
“Whew–ew–ew–ew–ew!” Brogten began to whistle, and Kennedy relieved his feelings by digging the poker into the fire. And then there was a pause.
“I want you to ask De Vayne.”
“And I tell you I won’t ask him.”
“Whew–w–w–w!” Another long whistle, during which Kennedy mashed and battered the black lumps that smouldered in the grate.
“Whew–ew–ew–ew! Oh, very well.” Brogten left the room. At hall that day, Brogten took care to sit near Kennedy again, and the old scene was nearly re-enacted. He turned the conversation to the Christmas examination. “I suppose you’ll be very high again, Kennedy.”
“No,” said he, curtly. “I’ve not read, and you know that as well as I do.”
“Oh, but you hadn’t read much last time, and you may do some particular paper very well, you know. I wish there was an Aeschylus paper; you might be first, you know, again.”