“I would advise you,” he said, “to do one of two things,—­either commit your lessons perfectly, hereafter, or else give up study entirely, and ask your father to take you from school and put you to some business.  You can learn as fast as any boy in school, if you will only give your attention to it; but I despise this half-way system that you have fallen into.  It is only wasting time to half learn a thing, as you did your geography lesson this afternoon.  You studied it just enough to get a few indistinct impressions, and what little you did learn you were not sure of.  It would be better for you to master but one single question a day, and then know that you know it, than to fill your head with a thousand half-learned, indefinite, and uncertain ideas.  I have told you all this before, but you do not seem to pay any attention to it.  I am sorry that it is so, for you might easily stand at the head of the school, if you would try.”

Oscar had received such advice before, but, as his teacher intimated, he had not profited much by it.  If anything, he had grown more indolent and negligent, within a few months.  On going home that night, Ralph accosted him with the inquiry: 

“What did you think of the blackboard, Oscar?  Do you suppose you should know it again, if you should happen to see it?”

“What do you mean?” he inquired, feigning ignorance.

“O, you ’ve forgotten it a’ready, have you?” continued Ralph.  “You don’t remember seeing anything of a blackboard this afternoon, do you?”

“But who told you about it?” inquired Oscar; for though both attended the same school, their places were in different rooms.

“O, I know what’s going on,” said Ralph; “you need n’t try to be so secret about it.”

“Well, I know who told you about it—­’t was Bill Davenport, was n’t it?” inquired Oscar.

Willie and Ralph were such great cronies, that Oscar’s supposition was a very natural one.  Indeed, Ralph could not deny it without telling a falsehood, and so he made no reply.  Oscar, perceiving he had guessed right, added, in a contemptuous tone: 

“The little, sneaking tell-tale—­I ’ll give him a good pounding for that, the first time I catch him.”

“You ’re too bad, Oscar,” interposed his brother; “Willie did n’t suppose you cared anything about standing before the blackboard—­he only spoke of it because he thought it was something queer.”

Seeing Oscar was in so unamiable a mood, Ralph said nothing more about the subject, at that time.

CHAPTER III.

PAYING OFF A GRUDGE.