ame thing are equal to each other."

Westby stopped to turn a surprised, questioning look upon the snickering
class.

"Yes, that will do for that demonstration," said Irving. He rose from
his seat; his lips were trembling, and the laughter of the class ceased.
"You may leave the room--for your insolence--at once!"

He had meant to be dignified and calm, but his anger had rushed to the
surface, and his words came in a voice that suggested he was on the
verge of tears.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I don't think I quite understand," said
Westby suavely.

"You understand well enough. I ask you to leave the room."

"I'm afraid, Mr. Upton, that my little pleasantries--usually considered
harmless--do not commend themselves to you. But you hurt my feelings very
much, sir, when you apply such a harsh word as insolence to my whimsical
humor--"

"I'll hold no argument with you," cried Irving; in his excitement his
voice rose thin and thrill. "Leave the room at once."

Westby laid the pointer and the chalk on the shelf, blew the dust from
his fingers, and walked towards his seat. Irving took a step forward;
his face was white.

"What do you mean!--What do you mean! I told you to leave the room."

Westby faced him with composure through which showed a sneer; for the
first time the boy was displaying contempt; hitherto his attitude had
been jocose and cajoling.

"I was going for my cap," he said, and his eyes flashed scornfully.
Then, regardless of the master's look, he continued past the row of his
classmates, took up his cap, and retraced his steps towards the door.
Irving stood watching him, with lips compressed in a stern line; the
line thinned even more when he saw Westby bestow on his friends a droll,
drooping wink of the left eyelid.

And then, while all the class sat in silence, Westby did an audacious
thing--a thing that set every one except Irving off into a joyous titter.
He went out of the door doing the sailor's hornpipe,--right hand on
stomach, left hand on back, left hand on stomach, right hand on back,
and taking little skips as he alternated the position. And so, skipping
merrily, he disappeared down the corridor.

Irving returned to his platform. His hands were trembling, and he felt
weak. When he spoke, he hardly knew his own voice. But he struggled to
control it, and said,--

"Scarborough, please go to the board and demonstrate your theorem."

There was no more disorder in class that day; in fa