"Oh, get out of this, Ross," he said; "don't let me see your face again until to-morrow at school, so out you go—quick—run—get out of my presence! A pretty nut you've given me to crack."
CHAPTER VIII.
MR. DANVERS ORDERS FURNITURE.
WHEN Maurice had really left the house, John Danvers returned to his untidy, complex room, and threw open both windows.
"Stuffy," he muttered, sniffing as he spoke. "Let in plenty of air—nothing like air. Now, then, for my supper. Digestion will be all wrong to-night. Oh, good Heavens! what sin have I done, that this appalling dilemma should be presented to me? Won't think of it! Supper comes first, then all those themes. Never heard of a lad like Maurice Ross in all my life before—won't think of him. That passage in Cæsar which I read this morning is worth pondering over; meant to go to sleep on it to-night—will still. The cheek of that young beggar! won't think of him; I vow I won't! This bacon is destroyed; 'willful waste makes woeful want'—— That's what comes of listening to cheeky—— Won't revert to that dog."
John Danvers pushed up his red hair until it stood upright on his forehead. Then he sat plump down on the nearest chair, placed a thin hand on each knee, and gazed straight before him at all his books. He made an admirable scarecrow, sitting thus; and would have been the delight of every boy in his class, had they had the privilege of gazing at him. The bacon frizzled and burned on the pan, but he took no notice of it. Finally he put his supper away untasted, then lit his lamp, and sat down with thirty exercise books before him.
"As if this were not enough," he muttered. "For what sin am I so sorely punished? A girl wants to learn what she'd better not know, and I'm to go to Bedlam. If I were another man, I'd say 'no.' I always knew I was composite, and this proves it. I'm beastly weak; wish I weren't. Shouldn't think of it a second time, if I hadn't this abominable vein of good-nature running through me. That's the composite element which has destroyed my chance in life. For the sake of a girl—— Faugh! If it were a boy indeed! I take an interest in those torturing young beggars in spite of myself, and Maurice Ross is my favorite, and he knows it, the dog! Well, I'll sleep it over. Hang it, though, I don't believe I'll sleep a wink!"
John Danvers ate no supper that night. He was quite unaware of this fact, however, himself; he also failed to correct any of the exercise books, and the boys who had made a sad hash of their Latin and Greek got off scot-free the next morning. Next day in school he avoided Maurice Ross' eye. In the afternoon he started off for a long walk by himself. It was a half-holiday, and he could do this with impunity. On his way back he called at Miss Marshall's house.