“By Jove! old fellow,” said Oscar, as they were walking home, “I am beginning to be proud of you.  You are doing great credit to your teacher.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Harry.  “Don’t compliment me too much, or I may become vain, and put on airs.”

“If you do, I’ll get Fitz to call, and remind you that you are only a printer’s devil, after all.”

CHAPTER XIII.

Vacation begins at the academy.

Not long after his election as a member of the Clionian Society, the summer term of the Prescott Academy closed.  The examination took place about the tenth of June, and a vacation followed, lasting till the first day of September.  Of course, the Clionian Society, which was composed of Academy students, suspended its meetings for the same length of time.  Indeed, the last meeting for the season took place during the first week in June, as the evenings were too short and too warm, and the weather was not favorable to oratory.  At the last meeting, an election was held of officers to serve for the following term.  The same President and Vice-President were chosen; but as the Secretary declined to serve another term, Harry Walton, considerably to his surprise, found himself elected in his place.

Fitzgerald Fletcher did not vote for him.  Indeed, he expressed it as his opinion that it was a shame to elect a “printer’s devil” Secretary of the Society.

“Why is it?” said Oscar.  “Printing is a department of literature, and the Clionian is a literary society, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is a literary society, but a printer’s devil is not literary.”

“He’s as literary as a tin-pedler,” said Tom Carver, maliciously.

Fletcher turned red, but managed to say, “And what does that prove?”

“We don’t object to you because you are connected with the tin business.”

“Do you mean to insult me?” demanded Fletcher, angrily.  “What have I to do with the tin business?”

“Oh, I beg pardon, it’s your cousin that’s in it.”

“I deny the relationship,” said Fletcher, “and I will thank you not to refer again to that vulgar pedler.”

“Really, Fitz, you speak rather roughly, considering he’s your cousin.  But as to Harry Walton, he’s a fine fellow, and he has an excellent handwriting, and I was very glad to vote for him.”

Fitzgerald walked away, not a little disgusted, as well at the allusion to the tin-pedler, as at the success of Harry Walton in obtaining an office to which he had himself secretly aspired.  He had fancied that it would sound well to put “Secretary of the Clionian Society” after his name, and would give him increased consequence at home.  As to the tin-pedler, it would have relieved his mind to hear that Mr. Bickford had been carried off suddenly by an apoplectic fit, and notwithstanding the tie of kindred, he would not have taken the trouble to put on mourning in his honor.