“I should think it was full time, Mr. Smith.”

“Perhaps so,” said Smith; “but if I have stood by him, it has been in ignorance.  I cannot think him as wrong as your ward has probably represented.  Hector was jealous of him.”

“Of his scholarship, I presume?”

“Well, no,” answered the principal, reluctantly, “but of his physical superiority, and—­and influence in the school.  I may say, in fact, Mr. Roscoe, that till your ward entered the school it was a happy and harmonious family.  His coming stirred up strife and discontent, and I consider him primarily responsible for all the trouble that has occurred.”

“I don’t defend Hector Roscoe,” said Allan, “but he writes me that your nephew was a bully, who imposed upon his schoolfellows, and that he, by taking their part and stopping this tyranny, incurred his ill-will and yours.”

“I supposed I should be misrepresented,” said Socrates, meekly.  “I am devoted to my school and my pupils, Mr. Roscoe.  I am wearing out my life in their service.  I may make mistakes sometimes, but my heart—­my heart, Mr. Roscoe,” continued Socrates, tapping his waistcoat, “is right, and acquits me of any intentional injustice.”

“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Smith,” said Allan Roscoe, stiffly.  “As Hector has left you, I have only to settle your bill, and bid you good-day.”

“Will you not exert your influence to persuade the boy to return?” pleaded Socrates.

“As I don’t know where he is, I don’t see how I can,” said Allan Roscoe, dryly.

“That man is an arch hypocrite!” he said to himself, as he was returning home.

I may state here that at the end of the term half the pupils left Smith Institute, and Socrates Smith lamented too late the folly that had made him and his school unpopular.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Hector’s arrival in new York.

Mr. Crabb and Hector were sitting side by side in a railroad car, speeding away from Smith Institute.  In the heart of each was a feeling of relief, which increased as each minute carried them farther away from the school.

“Hector,” said the usher, looking younger and happier than his pupil had ever known him, “I feel like a free man now.  It is a feeling that I have not had since I first set foot in Smith Institute.”

“I think you will lead a happier life in New York, Mr. Crabb.”

“I am sure of it.  Thanks to your considerate kindness, I shall for the first time earn an ample salary, and even be able to lay up money.  Is my future pupil about your age?”

“He is a year younger.”

“Where did you make his acquaintance?”

“At Saratoga, My father and I spent two months at Congress Hall two summers ago, and as Walter’s family were also there, we naturally got to be friends.  He is a capital fellow, and you will be sure to like him.”