“Why, didn’t you know? His brother plays left end on the team—”

“Kiddy Upton’s brother on the Harvard Freshmen! No!”

“Whose brother?”

“Mr. Upton’s, I meant to say.” Louis grinned. “Is he really, Mr.
Barclay?”

“I’m rather surprised you didn’t know it. But I guess Mr. Upton is the
kind that doesn’t talk much.”

“I should think he’d have let that out.”

“Well, he let it out to me. I suspect—though he hasn’t told me—that he’s
helping to put his brother through college. And his success in doing
that will naturally depend largely on his success or failure here as a
master.”

“You mean—keeping his job?”

Barclay nodded. “Yes. Oh, I don’t suppose there’s any real doubt about
that. He’s a perfectly competent teacher, isn’t he? You know; you have a
class with him.”

“Ye-es,” said Louis, slowly. “The trouble has been, the fellows horse
him a good deal—though not quite so much as they did.”

“They’ll get over that when they know him better,” remarked Barclay.