I was thankful when I heard Jack stir, and had an excuse for getting up.
“Hullo!” said he, as I did so; “you were a jolly long time posting that letter last night, or else I must have gone to sleep pretty quickly.”
“I just looked in to talk to Mr Smith,” I said, “on my way back.”
“Ah, do you know, I think he’s working too hard. He didn’t look well last night.”
“He seemed a little out of sorts,” I said, “but I’m afraid that’s nothing very unusual. Well, old boy, how do you feel in prospect of your exam.?”
“Oh, all right,” said Jack, complacently. “I suppose I ought to feel in mortal terror and nervousness and despondency. I believe that’s what’s expected of a fellow before an exam. If so, I’m unorthodox. Perhaps it’s a sign I shall be plucked.”
“I’m not afraid of that,” said I.
“Well, I have a notion I may pull through.”
“If you pass,” said I, struck with a thought that had not before occurred to me, “shall you go to college, Jack?”
He laughed at the question.