I had intended to polish off grew every
time I thought of them, till they wellnigh seemed to eclipse the other
subjects about which I felt sure. What an ass I had been!

"The candidates for the Calton Scholarship are to go to the doctor's
class-room!"

To the doctor's class-room we four accordingly proceeded.

On the way, not to appear nervous, I casually inquired of Wilton if he
had caught any specimens yesterday.

"Yes," he said gaily. "I got one splendid fellow, a green-winged moth.
I'll show him to you in my study after the exam, is over."

Here was a fellow who could calmly contemplate the end of this day's
ordeal. I dared not do as much as that!

The doctor affably welcomed us to his room, and bade us be seated.
Several quires of blank paper, one or two pens, a ruler, and ink, were
provided at each of our four desks.

Then a printed paper of questions was handed to each, and the
examination began.

I glanced hurriedly down my paper. Question 1 was on one of those
subjects which had escaped my observation. Question 2 was a piece of
translation I did not recognise as occurring in the Greek book I had got
up, and yet I thought I had been thoroughly through it. Question 3--
well, no one would be able to answer that. Question 4--oh, horrors!
another of those little points I had meant to polish off. Thus I
glanced from top to bottom of the paper. Here and there I fancied I
might be able to give some sort of answer, but as for the rest, I was in
despair. I dashed my pen into the ink, and wrote my name at the head of
a sheet of paper, and ruled a line underneath it. Then I dug my fingers
in my hair, and waited for an inspiration. It was a long time coming.
In the meantime I glanced round at the other three. They were all
writing hard, and Wilton already had one sheet filled. Somehow the
sight of Wilton reminded me of the moth he had spoken of. I wondered if
it was a finer specimen than I had got at home--mine had blue wings and
a horn. Funny insects moths were! I wondered if the doctor used to
collect them when he was a boy. The doctor must be nearly sixty now.
Jolly to be a doctor, and have nothing to do but examine fellows! I
wondered if Walker's father had written him a letter, and what sort of
nib he (Walker) must be writing with, with such a peculiar squeak--
rather like a frog's squeak. I wouldn't mind being a frog for some
things; must be jolly to be equally at home on dry ground or in