At three o’clock on Tuesday the last examination was over, and at a few minutes past that hour Dick, Roy, Chub, and Harry, the three former in a blissful state of relief, feeling as boys do feel when the last book has been flung aside for the summer, sat in the shade of the Cottage porch.
“If Cobb gives me a C in German,” said Chub hopefully, “I’m all right.”
“Well, I guess I got through,” said Dick proudly, “but it was hard work.”
“Shucks!” scoffed Chub. “Just you wait until next year!”
“Now don’t scare him to death,” Roy protested. “If you don’t look out he won’t show up in the fall at all. How are you getting on, Harry?”
“Me? Oh, I’m all right, I guess. My last exam’s to-morrow; botany. Now you needn’t laugh,” she added indignantly. “Botany’s awfully hard.”
“What’s the sense of it?” asked Chub. “What good is it going to do you to know whether a leaf’s lanceolate or—or composite?”
“Don’t display your ignorance, Chub,” laughed Roy.
“What good are lots of things they teach us?” Harry demanded. “Like—like music and drawing?”