Both boys were surprised to see Dr. Euclid, for it was ten minutes before his usual hour of coming.

It happened, however, that he had had occasion to go to the post office to deposit an important letter, and as it was so near the hour for commencing school, he had not thought it worth his while to go home again.

“What’s the matter, boys?” repeated the doctor.

Herbert Ross, who was still fuming with anger, saw a chance to get the janitor into trouble, and answered, spitefully:

“That boy has insulted me!”

“How did he insult you?” inquired Dr. Euclid, rather surprised.

“He seized me, when I wasn’t looking, and laid me down on the dirty floor!” exploded Herbert, looking at Andy as if he would like to wither him with a glance.

Dr. Euclid knew something of the character and disposition of Herbert, and reserved his judgment.

“What have you to say to this charge, Andrew?” he asked, mildly.

“It is true,” said Andy—“all except my taking him unawares.”

“What could induce you to make such an assault upon your fellow-student?” said the doctor.

In reply, Andy made a correct statement of the transaction, in mild and temperate language.

“Is this correct, Herbert?” asked the doctor. “Did you interfere with Andrew in the discharge of his duties?”

“I kicked the pile of dirt,” Herbert admitted.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“Not to cover a gentleman with dust when he entered the room,” replied Herbert, in a pompous tone.

“By the word ‘gentleman’ you mean to designate yourself, I presume,” said Dr. Euclid.

Herbert colored, for though the doctor’s words were plain and unemphasized, they seemed to him to imply sarcasm.

“Certainly, sir,” he answered.

“Those who claim to be gentlemen must behave as such,” said Dr. Euclid, calmly. “It is clear that your being covered with dust was accidental, and you had no occasion to resent it.”

“Had he any right to throw me down?” asked Herbert, biting his lips.

“Did you not strike him first?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then it appears to me that you are quits. I don’t approve of fighting, but I hold to the right of self-defense. I don’t think this affair calls for any interference on my part,” and the doctor passed on to his desk.

Herbert Ross was very much mortified. He had confidently expected that Andy would get into trouble, and perhaps receive a punishment, certainly a reprimand, from the preceptor. As it was, he alone had incurred censure.

He nodded his head viciously, reflecting:

“This isn’t the last of it. The doctor is partial to that young beggar, but the doctor isn’t everybody. He’s responsible to the trustees, and my father is the most important one. He’ll find he’s made a mistake.”

Herbert was not at all improved in temper by a sharp reprimand from the doctor, when he came to recite his lesson, on the shabby character of his recitation.

When recess came, he stalked up to Andy, and said, menacingly:

“You look out, Andy Gordon! You’ll get into trouble before you know it!”

“Thank you for telling me!” said Andy, calmly. “What sort of trouble will I get into?”

“You think you’re all right because Dr. Euclid took your part this morning!” continued Herbert, not answering the question; “but that isn’t the end of the matter, by a long shot! The doctor isn’t so great a man as he thinks he is.”

“I never knew that he considered himself a great man,” answered Andy.

“Well, he does. He doesn’t know how to treat a gentleman.”

“Why don’t he?”

“He upholds you in what you did.”

“He thinks it right to act in self-defense.”

“He may have to act in self-defense himself. My father is one of the trustees of this academy.”

“You said that this morning.”

“He can turn the doctor out of office, and put in another teacher,” continued Herbert.

“That isn’t anything to me,” said Andy. “Still, I have one thing to say.”

“What is that?” asked Herbert, suspiciously.

“That he will have a big job on his hands when he undertakes it,” said Andy.

“He can do it,” repeated Herbert, jerking his head emphatically; “but he won’t begin with that.”

“Won’t he?” said Andy, indifferently.

“No; he’ll begin with you. I’m going to tell him to-night all that has happened, and he’ll have you discharged. You can make up your mind to that.”

If Herbert expected to see Andy exhibit fear or alarm, he was not gratified. Our hero, on the other hand, looked provokingly indifferent.

“Don’t you think you could get me off, Herbert?” asked Andy, with a smile, which the young aristocrat did not quite understand.

“If you will beg my pardon before the boys for what you did,” he said, magnanimously, “I won’t do anything about it.”

“That is very kind. I suppose you will be willing to ask my pardon first for striking me with the broom and calling me bad names.”

“No, I won’t. I only did and said what was proper.”

“Then you won’t get any apology out of me,” returned Andy.

“You will lose your place, and have to leave school.”

“I don’t think I shall.”

“My father will have you turned out, and another janitor appointed.”

“The janitor is not appointed by the trustees. Dr. Euclid always appoints the janitor.”

This was news to Herbert. He had rather a vague idea of the powers of the trustees, and fancied that their authority extended to the appointment of so subordinate a person as the janitor.

“It doesn’t make any difference,” he declared, recovering himself. “The doctor will have to dismiss you, whether he wants to or not.”

“You speak very positively,” rejoined Andy, with a contemptuous smile, which Herbert resented.

“You’ll find it’s no laughing matter,” said Herbert, hotly. “For a poor boy, you put on altogether too many airs.”

Andy’s manner changed.

“Herbert Ross,” he said, “I’ve listened to your talk because it amused me, but I’ve heard enough of it. The only boy in school who puts on airs is yourself, and I, for one, don’t mean to stand your impudence. Your father may be a very important person, but you are not. All your talk about Dr. Euclid’s losing his place is ridiculous. You can go and talk to the doctor on the subject if you think it best.”

Here Andy turned on his heel, and called out to Frank Cooper:

“Have a catch, Frank?”

“Yes, Andy.”

The two boys began to throw a ball to each other, by way of improving their practice, for both belonged to a baseball club, and Andy’s special and favorite position was that of catcher.

“You seem to have considerable business with Herbert Ross,” said Frank. “I thought we should have no time for practice.”

Andy smiled.

“Herbert thinks he has business with me,” he said.

“I shouldn’t think it was very pleasant business, by the way he looks,” said Frank.

Andy smiled, but said nothing.

None of the boys had been present when the little difficulty of the morning took place, and he thought it not worth mentioning.

When Herbert left school at the close of the afternoon session, he was fully resolved to make it hot for the young janitor, and for Dr. Euclid, whose censure he had again incurred for a faulty Greek recitation.