"I may say to Mr. Roscoe that I am proud of my pupils, and the progress
they have made under my charge. (The principal quietly ignored the two
ushers who did all the teaching.) When these boys have reached a high
position in the world, it will be my proudest boast that they were
prepared for the duties of life at Smith Institute. Compared with this
proud satisfaction, the few paltry dollars I exact as my honorarium are
nothing--absolutely nothing."

Socrates looked virtuous and disinterested as he gave utterance to this
sentiment.

"And now, boys, you will commence your daily exercises, under the
direction of my learned associates, Mr. Crabb and Mr. Jones."

Mr. Crabb looked feebly complacent at this compliment, though he knew it
was only because a visitor was present. In private, Socrates was rather
apt to speak slightingly of his attainments.

"While I am absent with my distinguished friend, Mr. Roscoe, I expect
you to pursue your studies diligently, and preserve the most perfect
order."

With these words, the stately figure of Socrates passed through the
door, followed by Mr. Roscoe.

"A pleasant sight, Mr. Roscoe," said the principal; "this company of
ambitious, aspiring students, all pressing forward eagerly in pursuit of
learning?"

"Quite true, sir," answered Allan Roscoe.

"I wish you could stay with us for a whole day, to inspect at your
leisure the workings of our educational system."

"Thank you, Mr. Smith," answered Mr. Roscoe, with an inward shudder;
"but I have important engagements that call me away immediately."

"Then we must reluctantly take leave of you. I hope you will feel easy
about your nephew--"

"My ward," corrected Allan Roscoe.

"I beg your pardon--I should have remembered--your ward."

"I leave him, with confidence, in your hands, my dear sir."

So Allan Roscoe took his leave.

Let us look in upon the aspiring and ambitious scholars, after Mr. Smith
left them in charge of the ushers.

Jim Smith signalized his devotion to study by producing an apple core,
and throwing it with such skillful aim that it struck Mr. Crabb in the
back of the head.

The usher turned quickly, his face flushed with wild indignation.

"Who threw that missile?" he asked, in a vexed tone.

Of course no one answered.

"I hope no personal disrespect was intended," continued the usher.

Again no answer.

"Does anyone know who threw it?" asked Mr. Crabb.

"I think it was the new scholar," said