pant. The desk,
extremely neat with papers, blotters, and pens, was arranged according
to a careful pattern. On books and shelves no speck of dust showed, and
so far the place was scholarly. Then George was a trifle surprised to
notice, next to a sepia print of the Parthenon, a photograph of a
football team. That, moreover, was the arrangement around the four
walls--classic ruins flanked by modern athletes. On a table in the
window, occupying what one might call the position of honour, stood a
large framed likeness of a young man in football togs.

Before George had really closed the door the high voice had opened its
attack.

"I haven't any more time for dunces."

"I'm not a dunce," George said, trying to hold his temper.

Bailly didn't go on right away. The youthful glance absorbed each detail
of George's face and build.

"Anyhow," he said after a moment, less querulously, "let's see what you
lack of the infantile requirements needful for entrance in an American
university."

He probed George's rapid acquaintance with mathematics, history,
English, and the classics. With modern languages there was none. Then
the verdict came. Two years' work.

"I've got to make my eyes and brain do," George said. "I've got to enter
college this fall or never. I tell you, Mr. Bailly, I am going to do it.
I know you can help me, if you will. I'll pay."

Bailly shook his head.

"Even if I had the time my charges are high."

George showed his whole hand.

"I have about five hundred dollars."

"For this condensed acquisition of a kindergarten knowledge,
or--or----"

"For everything. But only let me get in and I'll work my way through."

Again Bailly shook his head.

"You can't get in this fall, and it's not so simple to work your way
through."

"Then," George said, "you refuse to do anything for me?"

The youthful eyes squinted. George had an odd impression that they
sought beyond his body to learn just what manner of man he was. The
querulous voice possessed more life.

"How tall are you?"

"A little over six feet."

"What's your weight?"

George hesitated, unable to see how such questions could affect his
entering college. He decided it was better to answer.

"A hundred and eighty-five."

"Good build!" Bailly mused. "Wish I'd had a build like that. If your
mind is as well proportioned----Take your coat off. Roll up your
sleeves."

"What for?" George asked.

Bailly arose and circled the desk. George saw