end of the bargain."

Van Cortlandt Blake stretched his arms and gazed thoughtfully down
at the ruler he was twirling in his fingers.

"Bobbie, you're a trump; I wish more fellows were like you. The
difference between us is that while I perfectly agree with you I sit
back and talk about it; you go ahead and do something. It's rotten
of me not to work harder down here. I know my father is sore on it,
and every time he writes I mean to take a brace and do better--honest
I do, no kidding. But you know how it goes. Somebody wants me on the
ball nine, or on the hockey team, or in the next play, and I say yes
to every one of them. The first I know I haven't a minute to study
and then I get ragged on the exams.

"You are too popular for your own good, Van. No, I'm not throwing
spinach, straight I'm not. What I mean is that everybody likes you.
Why, there isn't a more popular boy in the school! That's why you
get pulled into every sort of thing that's going. It's all right,
too, only if you expect to study any you've got to rise up in your
boots and take a stand. That's why I shut myself up and grind
regularly part of every evening. I don't enjoy doing it, but it's
the only way."

Van rose and began to roam round the room uneasily.

"Goodness knows, Bobbie, if one of us didn't grind neither of us
would get anywhere. By the way, did you manage to dig out that
Caesar for to-morrow? Fire away and give me the product of your
mighty brain. I guess I can memorize the translation if you read it