up in classes splendidly, and--"

Pickering sprang to his feet. "What do you mean, Jasper?" he cried
hoarsely, his face white as a sheet.

"Just what I say."

"Say it again."

So Jasper went all over it once more, adding the other things about
getting into college and all that, as much as Pickering would hear.

"Honest?" he broke in, his pale face getting a dull red, and seizing
Jasper by the shoulders.

"Did I ever tell you anything that wasn't so, Pick?"

"No; but I can't believe it, Jap. It's the first time in my life
I've--I've--" And what incessant blame could not do, praise achieved.
Pickering rushed to the bed, flung himself face down upon it, and broke
into a torrent of sobs.

Jasper, who had never seen Pickering cry, had wild thoughts of rushing
for Mrs. Cabot; the uncle was not at home. But remembering how little
good this could possibly do, he bent all his energies to stop this
unlooked-for flood.

But he was helpless. Having never given way in this manner before,
Pickering seemed determined to make a thorough job of it. And it was not
till he was quite exhausted that he rolled over, wiped his eyes, and
looked at Jasper.

"I'm through," he announced.

"I should think you might well be," retorted Jasper; "what with scaring
me almost to death, you've made yourself a fright, Pick, and you've just
upset all your chances to study to-day."

Pickering flung himself off the bed as summarily as he had gone on.

"That's likely, isn't it?" he cried mockingly, and shamefacedly
scrabbling up the books from the floor. "Now, then," and he was across
the room, pouring out a basinful of water, to thrust his swollen face
within it.

"Whew! I never knew it used a chap up so to cry," he spluttered.
"Goodness me!" He withdrew his countenance from the towel to regard
Jasper.

"How you look!" cried Jasper, considering it better to rail at him.

Whereupon Pickering found his way to the long mirror. "I never was a
beauty," he said.

"And now you are less," laughed Jasper.

"But I'm good," said Pickering solemnly, and flinging himself down to
his books.

"You can't study with such eyes," cried Jasper, tugging at the book.

"Clear out!"

"I'm not going. Pick, your eyes aren't much bigger than pins."

"But they're sharp--just as pins are. Leave me alone." Pickering
squirmed all over his chair, but Jasper had the book.

"Never mind, I'll fly at my history, then," said Pickering, possessing
himself of anoth