“That is the company chair, Mr. Howard,” said he, smiling. “Will you occupy it?”
“Thank you,” said Walter.
All his associations with schools were in the character of a scholar, and he felt a little out of place. It seemed to him that he ought to be seated at one of the desks.
“Julius, will you ring the bell?” said Mr. Barclay.
A boy of twelve advanced to the teacher’s desk, and took from his hand a large bell, with which he went out into the entry and rang with emphasis, as if he enjoyed it. Soon, in answer to the sonorous summons, came trooping in the boys from the playground, flushed with exercise, some of them drawing on their coats as they walked to their desks. John Wall alone looked as if he were fresh from a bandbox, his hair plastered down with pomatum, and his clothes innocent of dust or wrinkle.
“If he cared less for his appearance he would have a good deal more fun,” thought Walter, judging from a boy’s standpoint.
At last all were in their seats. After the preliminary exercises, the recitations commenced. The first were in arithmetic. Walter listened attentively to the recitations of the different classes, and concluded that he would have no difficulty in instructing any of them. The mathematical teacher at the Essex Institute was well fitted for his duties, and had a remarkably clear and simple way of explaining the leading principles of arithmetic. Allen Barclay, as Walter quickly perceived, was deficient in the art of teaching. He did not know how to explain difficulties in a plain, simple way. Walter felt desirous more than once of coming to his assistance, but of course could not do so.
“I believe I should like to teach,” he thought to himself. “It must be interesting.”
At last the classes in arithmetic finished their recitations.
“You will now have a chance to hear John Wall recite,” said the teacher, in a low voice. Walter’s interest was at once enlisted, partly because he was fond of Latin, and partly because he knew something already of John, and wished to see how he would acquit himself.