oward putting it down."

Frank put his essay carefully away in a bureau drawer in which he kept
his clothes, and, spreading open his Latin lexicon, proceeded to prepare
his lesson in the third book of Virgil's Aeneid.

CHAPTER V. MR. RATHBURN MAKES A SPEECH

Frank's seat in the schoolroom was directly in front of that occupied by
John Haynes. Until the announcement of the prize John and he had been on
friendly terms. They belonged to the same class in Latin, and Frank had
often helped his classmate through a difficult passage which he had not
the patience to construe for himself. Now, however, a coolness grew up
between them, originating with John. He felt envious of Frank's success;
and this feeling brought with it a certain bitterness which found
gratification in anything which he had reason to suppose would annoy
Frank.

On the morning succeeding the distribution of the prizes, Frank arrived
at the schoolhouse a few minutes before the bell rang. John, with half a
dozen other boys, stood near the door.

John took off his hat with mock deference. "Make way for the great prize
essayist, gentlemen!" he said. "The modern Macaulay is approaching."

Frank colored with annoyance. John did not fail to notice this with
pleasure. He was sorry, however, that none of the other boys seemed
inclined to join in the demonstration. In fact, they liked Frank much
the better of the two.

"That isn't quite fair, John," said Frank, in a low voice.

"I am always glad to pay my homage to distinguished talent," John
proceeded, in the same tone. "I feel how presumptuous I was in venturing
to compete with a gentleman of such genius!"

"Do you mean to insult me?" asked Frank, growing angry.

"Oh, dear, no! I am only expressing my high opinion of your talents!"

"Let him alone, John!" said Dick Jones, "It isn't his fault that the
teacher awarded the prize to him instead of you."

"I hope you don't think I care for that!" said John, snapping his
fingers. "He's welcome to his rubbishing books; they don't amount to
much, anyway. I don't believe they cost more than two dollars at the
most. If you'd like to see what I got for my essay, I'll show you."

John pulled out his portemonnaie, and unrolled three new and crisp
bank-notes of ten dollars each.

"I think that's pretty good pay," he said, looking about him
triumphantly. "I don't care how many prizes Rathburn chooses to give his
favorite. I rather think I can get along without