For once, Henderson absolutely looked ashamed of himself, and his manner was much less blustering than usual, as he said sulkily, “Yes, ’tis. His father is that Albany fellow who had to leave the country because he had used trust-funds.”
“Well,” exclaimed Gordon, “I don’t care if it is true, it was a contemptibly mean thing for you to blurt it out like that before the whole class. How would you like it if it was your father?”
“My father is a gentleman,” said Henderson, drawing himself up proudly.
“That’s more than can be said for his son,” muttered Sherman with a glance of disgust at Henderson’s coarse face; “I shouldn’t think Clark would ever want to come into this school-room again.”
“Small loss if he didn’t. We don’t want sons of convicts here,” said a hot-headed Georgian.
“Don’t say that, Lee,” said Gordon. “For my part, I’m right down sorry for Clark. He can’t help what his father has done, and isn’t to blame for it, and yet he’s got to have it thrown up at him all his life.”
“Reckon he’s got some of the same blood in his veins. They say if a fellow will lie he’ll steal too, and Clark came mighty near lying over that Latin business,” said a boy who had not before spoken.
“Don’t know about that,” quickly responded a little fellow named Reed.
Crawford looked up hastily at that, but Reed was not looking at him, and he said nothing.
Finally, three more boys signed their names, making nineteen in all, and then Gordon courteously requested those who were not willing to sign, to leave the room, which, after some noise, and not a few disagreeable remarks, they did. Then a vote was taken which resulted in a large majority for Gordon as president, Graham as vice-president, and Sherman as secretary.