Coote said nothing, but wished one of the windows was open on a hot day like this.
“This paper contains the result of the entrance examination at Templeton,” said Mr Ashford. “Out of thirty-six candidates, Heathcote has passed fifteenth, and Richardson twenty-first. Coote, I am sorry to say, has not passed.”
Chapter Three.
How our heroes gird on their armour.
Our heroes, each in the bosom of his own family, spent a somewhat anxious Easter holiday.
Of the three, Coote’s prospects were decidedly the least cheery. Mountjoy House without Richardson and Heathcote would be desolation itself, and the heart of our hero quailed within him as he thought of the long dull evenings and the dreary classes of the coming friendless term.
“Never mind, old man,” Dick had said, cheerily, as the “Firm” talked their prospects over on the day before the holidays, “you’re bound to scrape through the July exam.; and then won’t we have a jollification when you turn up?”
But all this was sorry comfort for the dejected Coote, who retired home and spent half his holidays learning dates, so determined was he not to be “out of it” next time.