Once again he saw Clarence surreptitiously refer to a paper which he pulled down from his sleeve. It was a risky proceeding, as the high school instructors were walking about the room, looking for any such cheating. But luck (if one can call it luck) favored Clarence. The instructor assigned to his section of the room was rather elderly and near-sighted, and Clarence was not caught.
“Of course I’m not sure he’s using a pony,” thought Tom, “but it certainly does look so.”
During the noon recess, when the boys were allowed to get some lunch, there were all sorts of excited talk about the examinations of the morning. Some declared them “easy,” and others expressed the opinion that they were “stiff.” Some of the lads, hastily eating a sandwich, began studying feverishly, in anticipation of the afternoon ordeal. Tom decided that he would be better off if he freshened his mind with a walk, for he felt he had done all the studying he could manage with profit, and he reasoned that the hardest part of the ordeal was over.
Two studies formed the basis for examination in the afternoon, and two were set down for the following morning. Tom finished about four o’clock, being one of the first to hand in his papers, and he started to take the trolley back to Chester.
“Think you passed, Tom?” asked a fellow high school student, who came along a little later.
“Well, I sure hope so!” Tom answered. “What did you think of it all?”
“Some wasn’t as bad as I was afraid it would be, and part of it was worse. I’m worried about my algebra.”
“I didn’t think that was so hard, except that one problem. But I managed to make mine prove, though maybe they won’t pass my method.”
“You’re lucky, Tom!” returned his companion.
Tom was not so sure about that.