Doctor Mack's heart sank within him. Was this the best that could be said about his ward, the son of his old friend?
“Do you think he is dissipated?” he asked, uneasily.
“Not that I ever heard. He is fond of having a good time, and drinks wine at his suppers, but he isn't what you would call intemperate. He would do better work in college if he wasn't so rich.”
“So he is rich, then?”
“He must be, for he spends a good deal of money. Pendleton, one of his classmates, told me that he spent more money than any one in the class.”
“That is why he needs so many extra checks,” thought the guardian soberly.
“I am sorry he doesn't make better use of his privileges,” he said aloud.
“Yes, sir, it is a pity. If he didn't care so much for a good time he might stand at the head of his class—so Pendleton thinks.”
“If he were a poor boy, now, you think the result would be different?” asked Doctor Mack, thoughtfully.
“Yes, sir, I have no doubt of it.”