"Amory," he began. "I've sent for you on a personal matter."

"Yes, sir."

"I've noticed you this year and I--I like you. I think you have in you
the makings of a--a very good man."

"Yes, sir," Amory managed to articulate. He hated having people talk as
if he were an admitted failure.

"But I've noticed," continued the older man blindly, "that you're not
very popular with the boys."

"No, sir." Amory licked his lips.

"Ah--I thought you might not understand exactly what it was they--ah--
objected to. I'm going to tell you, because I believe--ah--that when a
boy knows his difficulties he's better able to cope with them--to conform
to what others expect of him." He a-hemmed again with delicate reticence,
and continued: "They seem to think that you're--ah--rather too fresh--"

Amory could stand no more. He rose from his chair, scarcely controlling
his voice when he spoke.

"I know--oh, _don't_ you s'pose I know." His voice rose. "I know what
they think; do you s'pose you have to _tell_ me!" He paused. "I'm--
I've got to go back now--hope I'm not rude--"

He left the room hurriedly. In the cool air outside, as he walked to his