“Mr. Clemmons, my little schooner returns home under Captain Jasper Crane, whom you must know, and I will be glad to give him a letter for your people, if you wish.”
Scott Clemmons was in his room, getting his things to rights, and at the remark of Mark Merrill he laughed rudely.
He was no longer under the piercing eye of the commandant, and need not act for effect, as he had done when at headquarters.
He had stood the ordeal put upon him, but little less acceptably than had Mark Merrill.
He was a well-formed fellow, bright in his lessons and all that, but did not take into consideration that, with all his advantages, he had not done as well as the “fisher lad” he had sneered at.
“Send a letter by a sailing ship, Merrill? Not I, and you must live away back in the Dark Ages to think of such a thing in these days of telegraphs and railroads; but I forget that you know nothing of the world, living as secluded as you have. No, thank you, I have already telegraphed my father that I went through with flying colors, and I congratulate you upon having passed, even if it was by the skin of your teeth, for, of course, they would not refuse you, Merrill. Wait until the first year’s examination, which you cannot hope to get through.”
Mark Merrill’s eyes flashed, but he controlled his temper, and responded:
“I shall try hard to pass, Mr. Clemmons, for I came here to fight hard to win my way against all odds that I know are before me. Pardon me for disturbing you. I did not know but that you might wish to see Captain Crane and his boys, and send some word by them.”
“No, I do not associate with them at home, you know, and the telegraph and mails will answer my wants.”
Mark turned away, for he felt that he could not much longer listen to Scott Clemmons’ insulting words and patronizing manner.