Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of letters, which he
hurriedly fingered over, commenting in a low voice as he did so: "I
thought I answered that. Still, no matter. Jingo! haven't I paid that
bill yet? This pass is run out. Must get another." Then he smiled and
sighed as he looked at a letter in dainty handwriting; but apparently
he could not find the document he sought.

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I have it somewhere. He returned me the
prepaid envelope, and reminded me that United States stamps were of no
use in Canada, which of course I should have remembered. But he didn't
pay the postage on his own letter, so that I had to fork out double.
Still, I don't mind that, only as an indication of his meanness. He
went on to say that, of all the members of our class, you--_you_!
--were the only one who had reflected credit on it. That was the
insult. The idea of his making such a statement, when I had told him I
was on the New York _Argus_! Credit to the class, indeed! I wonder
if he ever heard of Brown after he was expelled. You know, of course.
No? Well, Brown, by his own exertions, became president of the Alum
Bank in New York, wrecked it, and got off to Canada with a clear half
million. _Yes_, sir. I saw him in Quebec not six months ago. Keeps
the finest span and carriage in the city, and lives in a palace. Could
buy out old Scragmore a thousand times, and never feel it. Most liberal
contributor to the cause of education that there is in Canada. He says
education made him, and he's not a man to go back on education. And yet
Scragmore has the cheek to say that _you_ were the only man in the
class who reflects credit on it!"

The professor smiled quietly as the excited journalist took a cooling
sip of the cobbler.