Todd contemplated the ravishing prospect of the future
with unmixed feelings. Between the upper and nether millstones of the lost
Exhibition and the lost bet he had been crashed, annihilated!
When he had shut the study door, in sheer despair of spirit, he laid his
head on the table and--Well, did he blub? All I know is, the Rev. E.
Taylor knocked at the door once, twice, thrice, and Todd heard him not.
The house master came in and surveyed the bowed form of poor Gus with a
good-natured smile, tempered with some scorn. He took the liberty of
loudly poking Gus's decaying fire, whereat the young gentleman sprang up
instanter.
"I knocked, Todd, but I suppose you were thinking too deeply to hear me."
"Sorry, sir," said Gus, hurriedly getting the master a chair, "and, as a
matter of fact, I was thinking."
"Yes!"
"What an awful ass I've been, sir!" "I don't know quite about the ass, but
you've certainly not been an epitome of all that's wise this term. It was
on that very subject that I came here to have a word with you before we go
for the holidays."
Gus looked blankly into the grate.
"This exhibition of yours, Todd, in the examination is just the answer you
might expect to the problem you've set yourself. 'How can I get something
of value by doing nothing for it?' I must say... etc." Taylor spoke very
much to the point to Todd for about half an hour, taking the ribs out of
Gus's conceit one by one, until he felt very much like a damp, damaged
gamp, and about as helpless.
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