hour, the instructor entered. It was Professor Kane.
“This is Mathematics One, Section Three,” Kane announced in a dry voice. “If there is any one here who does not belong here, he will please leave.” Nobody moved; so he shuffled some cards in his hand and asked the men to answer to the rollcall.
“Adams, J. H.”
“Present, sir.”
Kane looked up and frowned. “Say ‘here,’ ” he said severely. “This is not a grammar-school.”
“Yes, sir,” stuttered Adams, his face first white then purple. “Here, sir.”
“ ‘Here’ will do; there is no need of the ‘sir.’ Allsop, K. E.”
“Here”—in a very faint voice.
“Speak up!”
“Here.” This time a little louder.
And so it went, hardly a man escaping without some admonishment. Hugh’s throat went dry; his tongue literally stuck to the roof of his mouth: he was sure that he would n’t be able to say “Here” when it came his turn, and he could feel his heart pounding in dreadful anticipation.
“Carver, H. M.”
“Here!”
There! it was out! Or had he really said it? He looked at the professor in terror, but Kane was
