“He knows more than I thought he did,” said John to himself, “but he can’t manage this school. He’ll have to give up before the week is out, I’ll bet. Father ought to have known better than to give us a boy for a teacher.”
Among the last, Walter came to the seat occupied by Phineas Morton. Phineas has already been mentioned as the oldest pupil in the school. He was twenty years of age, and six feet in height. There was a decided contrast between him and the youthful teacher, and Phineas felt a little mortified by it. He had been set to work early, and from twelve to eighteen had not gone to school at all. Then, becoming aware of his deficiencies, he decided to make them up, as far as he could. So he came to school, and was, of course, placed in classes with boys much younger. But he submitted to this patiently, knowing that it was necessary, and had studied so faithfully since that he was now in the highest class in all the English branches. Latin he did not study.
“I do not need your name,” said Walter, politely. “I believe you are Phineas Morton?”
“Yes, sir,” said Phineas.
“What is your age?”
“Twenty. Rather old to come to school,” he added.
“One is never too old to learn, Mr. Morton,” said Walter. “I hope to be studying when I am older than you are now.”
“I didn’t feel the importance of study when I was younger,” said Phineas. “If I had, I should not have been so ignorant now.”
“Some of our most prominent public men have only made a beginning after they have reached twenty-one,” said Walter. “You are quite right not to mind your being older than the rest of the scholars.”
“I have minded it a little, I am afraid,” Phineas acknowledged; “but you have encouraged me, by what you have just said, and I shall not care so much hereafter.”