This puzzled Herbert not a little. He had expected that Andy would be cast down, and was annoyed because he seemed so far from despondent.
“Of course they can’t pay the note,” thought Herbert, with momentary apprehension. “But of course they can’t! I don’t suppose they have got ten dollars in the house. I mean to go round when the sheriff seizes the furniture. Andy won’t look quite so happy then, I am thinking!”
Herbert recited his Latin lesson as poorly as usual—perhaps even more so, for his mind had been occupied with other things—and Dr. Euclid, who never flattered or condoned the shortcomings of a pupil on account of his social position, sharply reprimanded him.
“Herbert Ross,” he said, “how do you expect to get into college if you recite so disgracefully?”
“The lesson was hard,” said Herbert, coolly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Hard, was it?” retorted the doctor. “There are some of your classmates who succeeded in learning it. Andrew Gordon, did you find the lesson very hard?”
“No, sir,” answered Andy, promptly.
Herbert looked at his successful classmate with a sneer.
“I can’t expect to compete with a janitor!” he said, slowly.
“Then,” said the doctor, provoked, “the sooner you obtain the position of a janitor the better, if that is going to improve the character of your recitations!”