"I should say it was; it was original, at least," said Arthur. "To tell the truth, I was rather dismayed when I found how little you knew. But you have made it up bravely."
"Yes," said Sam, complacently, "I think have; but still you are ahead of me."
"Not in all things. You write a much better hand than I."
"I am afraid it is my only accomplishment," said Sam.
"But not your only acquisition. You are a good English scholar. I don't mind telling you, however, that in the first three months I never expected you would be."
"I used to have the headache pretty often about that time," said Sam.
"Yes; I sympathized with you at first, till I began to suspect that it was all put on."
"It was harder for me to apply myself than you, Arthur. My street life made it so. It was only by degrees that I got the habit of application."
"It was a good thing for me that I had to assist you. It gave me an object in life. Besides, it made me work harder myself in order to continue able to do it. I used to get low-spirited, and feel that I was of no use in the world."
"You don't feel so now," said Sam, with a look of affection; for Arthur seemed to him like a dear, younger brother, whom it was his duty to care for and protect.