without regard to the scholarship of the writer."

Mr. Rathburn spoke in a quiet, dignified manner, which convinced
all who heard him of his fairness. I say all, because even John
Haynes was persuaded against his own will, though he did not
choose to acknowledge it. He had a dogged obstinacy which would
not allow him to retract what he had once said. There was an
unpleasant sneer on his face while the teacher was speaking,
which he did not attempt to conceal.

"The class in Virgil," called Mr. Rathburn.

This class consisted of Frank Frost, John Haynes, and Henry
Tufts. John rose slowly from his seat, and advanced to the usual
place, taking care to stand as far from Frank as possible.

"You may commence, John," said the teacher.

It was unfortunate for John that he had been occupied, first, by
thoughts of his rejected essay, and afterward by thoughts of the
boat which he proposed to buy with the thirty dollars of which he
had become possessed, so that he had found very little time to
devote to his Latin. Had he been on good terms with Frank, he
would have asked him to read over the lesson, which, as he was
naturally quick, would have enabled him to get off passably. But,
of course, under the circumstances, this was not to be thought
of. So he stumbled through two or three sentences, in an
embarrassed manner. Mr. Rathburn at first helped him along.
Finding, however, that he knew little or nothing of the lesson,
he quietly requested Frank to read, saying, "You don't seem so