d to order, the doctor then proceeded to
read out to the senior class a problem in proportion or compound
interest, or whatever it might be, and this they hurriedly scribbled
down on their slates. If they did not understand it fully at first, he
would read it again, but of course never gave any explanations. So soon
as a scholar had clearly grasped the problem to be solved he set to work
at its solution with all his might, and it was a most interesting
spectacle to watch when the whole class, with heads bent close to the
slates, made their squeaking, scratching pencils fly over them. Every
possible shade of mental condition, from confident knowledge to
foreboding bewilderment, would be expressed in their faces. The instant
one of them had completed his work, he banged his slate down upon the
backless chair, with the writing turned under. The others followed as
best they could, and all the slates being down, they awaited the
doctor's coming around to their class again.

When Dr. Johnston had completed the round of the classes, and given each
a problem, he would, after a pause, call upon each in turn to read the
answers as set down upon the slate. The boy whose slate was first on the
chair, and therefore at the bottom of the pile, would read his answer
first. If it were correct, he scored a point, and none of the others
were called upon. If incorrect, the next to him would read his answer,
and so on until a correct answer was given, and a point scored by
somebody. Only one point could be made each round, and so the
unsuccessful ones had to console themselves with the hope of having
better luck next time. Not more than four or five rounds would be had
each day, and it rarely happened that the same boy would be successful
in all of them. Three points were considered a very good day's work, and
if a boy made four points he was apt to feel that the prize in that
class was as good as his, until some other boy made four points also,
and thereby lessened his chances.

It did not always happen that being first down with his slate assured
the scholar of scoring a point. A slight mistake in his addition,
subtraction, or division might have thrown him off the track, and then
number two, or maybe number three, would come in with a correct answer
and triumphantly score the point, success being all the sweeter, because
of being somewhat unexpected.

Now this kind of competition suited Bert thoroughly. He was as quick as
any of his c