tleman," said Philip. "All
gentlemen learn the same things."

"What! do you think Sir John Crake, the master of the harriers, knows
Latin?" said Tom.

"He learnt it when he was a boy, of course," said Philip. "But I dare
say he's forgotten it."

"Oh, well, I can do that, then," said Tom readily.

"Oh, I don't mind Latin," said Philip, unable to choke a laugh; "I can
remember things easily. And there are some lessons I'm very fond of.
I'm very fond of Greek history, and everything about the Greeks. I
should like to have been a Greek and fought the Persians, and then have
come home and written tragedies, or else have been listened to by
everybody for my wisdom, like Socrates, and have died a grand death."

"Why, were the Greeks great fighters?" said Tom, who saw a vista in
this direction. "Is there anything like David, and Goliath, and Samson
in the Greek history? Those are the only bits I like in the history of
the Jews."

"Oh, there are very fine stories of that sort about the Greeks--about
the heroes of early times who killed the wild beasts, as Samson did.
And in the _Odyssey_ (that's a beautiful poem) there's a more wonderful
giant than Goliath--Polypheme, who had only one eye in the middle of
his forehead; and Ulysses, a little fellow, but very wise and cunning,
got a red-hot pine tree and stuck it into this one eye, and made him
roar like a thousand bulls."

"Oh, what fun!" said Tom, jumping away from the table, and stamping
first with one leg and then the other. "I say, can you tell me all
about those stories? because I shan't learn Greek, you know. Shall
I?" he added, pausing in his stamping with a sudden alarm, lest the
contrary might be possible. "Does every gentleman learn Greek? Will
Mr. Stelling make me begin with it, do you think?"

"No, I should think not--very likely not," said Philip. "But you may
read those stories without knowing Greek. I've got them in English."

"Oh, but I don't like reading; I'd sooner have you tell them me--but
only the fighting ones, you know. My sister Maggie is always wanting
to tell me stories, but they're stupid things. Girls' stories always
are. Can you tell a good many fighting stories?"

"Oh yes," said Philip--"lots of them, besides the Greek stories. I can
tell you about Richard Coeur-de-Lion and Saladin, and about William
Wallace, and Robert Bruce, and James Douglas. I know no end."

"You're older than I am, aren't you?" said Tom.

"Why, h