Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute. Alger Horatio Jr.

a time came recess. Hector wished to arrange the books in his desk, and did not go out.

      Mr. Crabb came up to his desk and said: “Roscoe, I must compliment you on your scholarship. You enter at the head. You are in advance of all the other members of the class.”

      “Thank you, sir,” said Hector, gratified.

      “There is one member of the class who is not competent to remain in it.”

      “Yes, sir; I observed that.”

      “But he is unwilling to join a lower class. It is a trial to me to hear his daily failures, but, perhaps, he would do no better anywhere else. He would be as incompetent to interpret Caesar as Virgil, I am afraid.”

      “So I should suppose, sir.”

      “By the way, Roscoe,” said the usher, hurriedly; “let me caution you against irritating Smith. He is the principal’s nephew, and so we give him more scope.”

      “He seems to me a bully,” said Hector.

      “So he is.”

      “I can’t understand why the boys should give in to him as they do.”

      “He is taller and stronger than the other boys. Besides, he is backed up by the principal. I hope you won’t get into difficulty with him.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Crabb. Your caution is kindly meant, but I am not afraid of this Jim—Smith. I am quite able to defend myself if attacked.”

      “I hope so,” said the usher; but he scanned Hector’s physical proportions doubtfully, and it was very clear that he did not think him a match for the young tyrant of the school.

      Meanwhile, Jim Smith and his schoolfellows were amusing themselves in the playground.

      “Where’s that new fellow?” asked Jim, looking back to see whether he had come out.

      “He didn’t come out,” said Bates.

      Jim nodded his head vigorously: