He would fix
his mind and eyes on Miss Wilson's face, who was now sitting at her desk,
and even as he looked at her the face of Brick Simpson, impudent and
pugnacious, would arise before him. It was of no use. He felt sick and
sore and tired and worthless. There was nothing to be done but flunk.
And when, after an age of waiting, the papers were collected, his went
in a blank, save for his name, the name of the examination, and the date,
which were written across the top.
After a brief interval, more papers were given out, and the examination
in arithmetic began. He did not trouble himself to look at the questions.
Ordinarily he might have pulled through such an examination, but in his
present state of mind and body he knew it was impossible. He contented
himself with burying his face in his hands and hoping for the noon hour.
Once, lifting his eyes to the clock, he caught Bessie looking anxiously at
him across the room from the girls' side. This but added to his discomfort.
Why was she bothering him? No need for her to trouble. She was bound to
pass. Then why could n't she leave him alone? So he gave her a particularly
glowering look and buried his face in his hands again. Nor did he lift it
till the twelve-o'clock gong rang, when he handed in a second blank paper
and passed out with the boys.
Fred and Charley and he usually ate lunch in a corner of the yard which
they had arrogated to themselves; but this day, by some remarkable
coincidence, a score of other boys had elected to eat their lunches on
the same spot.
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