Henry drew out, from under the bed, a writing-book, which was more than half written through. He had evidently taken great pains to imitate the copy, and with fair success.
Sam was quite impressed.
"You can write as well as the teacher I went to up in the country," he said.
"You can write, can't you, Sam?"
"Not much. I haven't tried lately."
"Everybody ought to know how to read, and write a decent hand."
"I s'pose so," said Sam; "but there's a lot of work in it."
He got into bed, and while he was watching Henry doing sums, he fell asleep. His roommate devoted an hour to arithmetic, and wrote a page in his copy-book. Then he, too, undressed, and went to bed.