But this was a detail that did not interest Dink in the least. He had
clashed with The Roman and not retreated. He had his first moment of
triumph, attested by the admiring glances of the class and the muffled
whisper of Straus, saying:

"Gee, you're a peach!"

The session ended with a solemn warning from The Roman.

"One word," he said in his deepest tones, "just one word to the wise.
We have journeyed together for two whole terms; there is only one more
between you and reassignment. Candor compels me to say that you have
acquired not even a flunking knowledge." He turned and raked the awed
ranks with the sweep of a pivot gun, and then took up again in
cutting, chilling, spaced syllables: "I have, in the course of my
experience as a teacher, had to deal with imbeciles, had to deal with
mere idiots; but for sheer, determined, _monumental_ asininity I have
never met the equal of this aggregation. I trust this morning's
painful, disgraceful, disheartening experience may never, never be
repeated. You may go."

And Stover, who had brazenly planned to remain and converse, went
swiftly out with the rest, little imagining that he whom he had ranked
as a deadly, unforgiving foe sat a long while chuckling over the
marvelous route Dink had gone, murmuring gratefully to himself:

"Wherever the wind blew him, Caesar initiated the orators."

VIII

In the hallway the Coffee-colored Angel jabbed him with his elbow,
muttering:

"You laughed at me, you miserable Rinky Dink. I'll fix you for that."

He disappeared swiftly. Before Dink could frame a reply he was
surrounded by an admiring chorus. The Tennessee Shad and Macnooder
shook hands with ceremony.

"You'll do," said the Tennessee Shad.

"You certainly will!" said Doc Macnooder.

"You've made a hit with Lucius Cassius," said the Tennessee Shad.

Dink shook his head; he knew better.

"You must always recite--always," said Doc Macnooder, from his great
knowledge of the nature of masters. "Whether you're prepared or
not--recite."

"I will," said Dink.

"And say, Dink," said Macnooder, "keep that outfit we sold you.
There'll be more hayseeds in the fall."

Dink had thought of that; he had thought of something else, too, which
he craftily hid in his own memory.

"Next fall I'll show them a thing or two," he said gleefully. "I'll
make souvenir crockery sets the rage."

The Coffee-colored Angel and the petty annoyances of the Green House
forgot, he went