Allen Barclay was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which confirmed his statement in an emphatic manner. He inherited a consumptive tendency, and it seemed probable that, do what he would, he would be short-lived.
The next day Walter, according to the teacher’s invitation, installed himself in his room, and spent the greater part of the day in a hasty review of the English branches which he would be called upon to teach. He found the task of refreshing his memory comparatively an easy one, for he had been good in all his studies. By the time Allen Barclay returned from school he had completed his review.
“Well, Mr. Howard, how have you spent the time?” he asked.
“In literary pursuits, Mr. Barclay. I have been examining myself in the different branches of study, and feel pretty confident of passing the ordeal. What time had I better go to General Wall’s?”
“It is best to be punctual. I think they will be ready for you by seven o’clock.”
“Very well.”
Seven o’clock found Walter knocking at the door of the chairman of the school trustees. He felt tolerably composed. Still it was a novel situation, and the undertaking he contemplated might well be formidable to one so young and inexperienced. But Walter was not a timid boy. He had plenty of pluck, and he meant to do his best, whatever might be the issue. As to the examination, he did not feel much alarmed.
The servant had her orders, and ushered him at once into the presence of General Wall, who seemed to be alone.
“Good-evening, Mr. Howard,” said the chairman of the trustees. “Mr. Barclay has mentioned your name to me in connection with the school, which he is compelled to resign.”
“Yes, sir. He thinks he must give up teaching.”