The boy’s eyes fell. "No, sir. I stood tenth in a class of thirty-four."
Evasion of the truth was not one of Ross’s strong points.
"And," stated his father, "it took you five years to do a four years’ course."
Ross looked his father squarely in the eyes, and lifted his chin a little. The father noticed for the first time that the boy’s chin could indicate aggression.
"I flunked on mathematics. But I made them up the next summer, and went on."
Again Grant looked at his son attentively, the son who retrieved his failure and "went on."
"You’re seventeen," he said abruptly. "What’s next?" The question, as both knew, was superfluous.
"Medical college," Ross answered as abruptly as the question had been put. "I am preparing for the entrance examinations in the University of Pennsylvania. I want to go down and take them in January, and at the same time pass upon a couple of subjects in the freshman year."
There was a gleam of curiosity in Grant’s deep-set eyes as he put the next questions.
"Haven’t I told you repeatedly that I shall never advance one penny on a medical education for you?"