At Yardley you were supposed to get up at seven. Breakfast was at seven-thirty. You were allowed, however, a half-hour’s leeway. That is, you could gain admittance to commons as late as one minute to eight, but whether you found anything left to eat was quite another question. At half-past eight came chapel, and while you might with impunity miss breakfast occasionally, being absent from chapel constituted a dereliction resulting in a visit to the Office. Chapel was held in the assembly hall on the third floor of Oxford. There had been a time, when the founder and first Principal, Doctor Hewitt, had been alive, when chapel had occurred at half-past seven, but nowadays one fortified oneself with food before the morning services.

On this Saturday morning Toby, who was so accustomed to early rising that it was a veritable hardship to lie in bed after seven, finished breakfast before eight and was out of the hall before Arnold appeared. Usually he waited for the latter and they crossed to Oxford together; and sometimes Homer Wilkins, by Herculean effort, managed to go along. But this morning Arnold had not returned to his room when Toby clattered downstairs again. Nor was he anywhere in sight. So Toby set out for chapel alone. Probably Arnold would be waiting for him in the corridor in Oxford. It wasn’t a morning when one would linger around out of doors, for the mercury was hovering about zero and an icy wind was blowing across the Prospect, cracking the flag and bending the top of the tall mast. Toby dug his hands into his pockets and scurried. The bell began to ring as he reached the steps. Inside, a crowd of boys who had lingered till the last moment, surged toward the stairs, and Toby was caught up and borne along. As a consequence, he did not find Arnold, and when he was seated on one of the old knife-scarred benches he was hedged in between two fellows whom he only knew by sight. Doctor Collins, the Principal, stepped to the rostrum, silence descended over the room and the Doctor’s pleasant voice began the reading.

“‘Hearken to me, ye that follow after righteousness, ye that seek the Lord: look unto the rock whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence ye are digged.’”

Toby, as he listened, glanced furtively around for sight of Arnold. He had wanted particularly to see him this morning and ask him when and where the scholarship announcements would be made. Toby presumed that a list would be posted on the notice board downstairs, but a hurried examination of the board as he had been swept past had revealed nothing that looked as portentous. Probably the list would be posted later. Toby wondered if he would have the courage to read it! Meanwhile there was no sign of Arnold and Toby concluded that he had arrived late and slipped into a seat near the door.

“‘But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; which have said to thy soul, Bow down, that we may go over: and thou hast laid thy body as the ground, and as the street, to them that went over.’”

Dr. Collins ceased and closed the Bible. There was a moment’s pause and the subdued shuffling of feet and moving of bodies. Then came silence again and the invocation and, at the last, the Lord’s Prayer, the boys reciting together. Toby always liked to hear that. It sounded to him like the boom of the sea back home, and thrilled him. When heads were lifted once more, he became conscious of an undercurrent of excitement, of suspense. The hall was unusually still. The boy on his right, a thin, earnest-looking youth with a pair of eye-glasses set on the ridge of a long nose, sat up straighter and more tensely, and Toby thought he breathed faster than was natural. Toby didn’t recall the fellow’s name, but they had several recitations in common. In front of him two boys were whispering together, but so softly that he could hear no sound. On the platform Doctor Collins was turning the papers in his hands, and, presently, having sorted them to his liking, he began the announcements. Three students were summoned to the Office; notice was given of a lecture on Stevenson next Tuesday evening at eight; a course in Bible History open to First and Second Class students would begin Monday; those desiring to join would give their names to Mr. Thurman; until further notice, the library would be kept open until ten o’clock at night, in response to a number of requests. Doctor Collins laid these notices on the desk, cleared his throat and began again. Toby heard the boy on his right take a long breath.

“In assigning scholarships,” began Dr. Collins, “the Faculty judges the merits of the applicants, as you doubtless know, on three grounds: scholarship, character and pecuniary need. At present the School has at its disposal twenty-six endowed scholarships, and for the current year they have been assigned as follows.”

Toby’s heart was doing queer things between his stomach and his throat. He wondered if the others were as surprised as he. Then he realized that every one else had known the announcements would be made here and now; that the under-current of excitement of which he had been dimly aware had been due to that knowledge. He plunged his hands into his pockets and doubled his fists tightly. He, too, was breathing hard and fast now. His thoughts were horribly jumbled, and he wondered where Arnold was, wished he was here, was glad he wasn’t, told himself he had absolutely no chance for a scholarship, hoped frantically that he had, and all in the small fraction of time that lapsed while Doctor Collins settled his glasses more firmly.

“As your names are mentioned, you will kindly stand,” continued the Principal. “To members of the First Class: Barton Scholarships of one hundred and twenty-five dollars to William George Phinney, Clark’s Mills, Rhode Island; David Fearson Caldwell, New York City; Jasper Haynes, Plainfield, New Jersey; Patrick Dennis Conlon, Bridgeport, Connecticut. Sinclair Scholarships of one hundred dollars to Phillip Studley Meyer, Belfast, Maine; William Patterson Byron, Newark, New Jersey. Elliot Percival Dwight Scholarships of eighty dollars to Howard Dana Jones, Englewood, Illinois; Horace Newcomb, Greenburg, Connecticut. The Yardley Hall Scholarship of sixty dollars to Newton Scott McDonough, Wilmington, Delaware.”

As each name was announced, somewhere in the hall an embarrassed youth arose and a salvo of clapping greeted him. Toby clapped as hard as any. It sort of took his mind off the question that was jumping around in his brain. The nine youths remained standing until the applause, long continued and hearty, died down. Then:

“You may be seated,” said the Doctor. “To members of the Second Class—” Toby listened, but only half heard. When a boy stood up he clapped hard. When a laugh started and rippled around the hall, he laughed too, a trifle hysterically, but didn’t know what at. The Second Class recipients sat down and the Doctor began on the Third Class awards. There were but six of these. Toby only knew one of the fortunate fellows, Mark Flagg, who played point with the first hockey squad. The clapping went on and on. Toby wished one instant that it would cease and the next that it would continue. Then it died away, Doctor Collins nodded and the boys sank back gladly out of sight. Toby clenched his hands again, set his countenance in a vacuous stare and held his breath.

“To members of the Fourth Class:” began the fateful voice. “Ripley Scholarships of sixty dollars to Gordon Pitman Wells, Cincinnati, Ohio—”

At the far side of the assembly hall there was a scraping of feet. The clapping broke forth afresh. Toby didn’t join this time, nor did he look around. He was too busy keeping his eyes on the back of the head of the boy in front of him, and, besides, it is doubtful if he could have unclenched his hands just then.

“—John Booth Garman, Fitchburg, Massachusetts—”

The boy at Toby’s right got slowly to his feet. Toby stole a look at his face. He was rather red and very embarrassed and there was a little crooked smile twisting one side of his mouth. Toby’s gaze fell to Garman’s hand which hung by his side. The long fingers were doubling back and forth nervously. Toby felt for Garman, wanted to tell him he was glad. Then, the applause lessening, he strained his ears again. Not that the crucial moment was yet, for he had no hopes of a Ripley now, nor much hope of anything. He wished it was all over! Doctor Collins seized the moment’s calm:

“Tobias Tucker, Greenhaven, New York!”

Something inside of Toby turned a complete somersault. Perhaps it was his heart, but it didn’t feel like it. His gaze went startledly, incredulously from the exact middle of the head in front of him to Doctor Collins’ face. Some one was shoving him from behind and a voice hissed over his shoulder: “Stand up, you chump!” Toby climbed dazedly to his feet. If it was a mistake, he told himself hollowly, he would feel like an awful fool! But there didn’t seem to be any mistake. Every one was clapping enthusiastically and he saw, or seemed to see, about a million faces smiling at him. His thoughts, as he held onto the back of the bench in front, were horribly confused while the applause lasted. After that, when the Doctor announced the recipients of the three Haynes Scholarships, and the school’s attention was shifted from him, he found himself mentally deducting sixty from one hundred and twenty-five and arriving at the joyful if slightly erroneous result of sixty. Why, his tuition bill for the rest of the year would be only ten dollars! (Afterwards he found that it would be fifteen, but he managed to survive the shock!) So busy was he dwelling on the beatitude of this thought that he didn’t see Doctor Collins nod nor observe the fact that the other five fellows had seated themselves again, and only became alive to his hideous conspicuousness when Garman tugged at his coat. He sank back onto the bench blushing, but still happy.

After that there was a short congratulatory address by the Principal and then they all stood up again and sang a hymn. Or, at least, most of them sang. Toby didn’t. But then his heart was singing, and maybe that was enough. When the final note had died away Doctor Collins gave the word of dismissal and a quiet and orderly exodus began which turned, outside the doors, into a stampede. Toby, however, went slowly, the better to enjoy his pleasant thoughts, until some one linked an arm in his and dragged him helter-skelter down the remaining flight.

“Hurray, T. Tucker! Didn’t I tell you you’d do it? It’s great, and I’m tickled to death, Toby!”

Of course it was Arnold, Arnold laughing and eager to show his delight by risking his neck in a final mad plunge down the crowded staircase. Toby brought up at the bottom breathless and shaken and leaned against the wall. “Wh-where were you?” he gasped. “I looked all around for you.”

“I waited for Homer and we were late and just got in by the skin of our teeth. Didn’t you see me waving to you when you stood up? Gee, but I’m glad you got a Ripley, Toby. I was afraid it might be only a Haynes.”

“I was afraid it might be only nothing,” laughed Toby. “I was so surprised when Doc said my name that I guess I’d be sitting there yet if some fellow hadn’t shoved me and told me to stand up! I don’t see now how I happened to do it. I made an awful mess of math for a while, and then in November I had trouble with Coby about Latin. I don’t see—”

“Oh, never mind what you don’t see,” interrupted Arnold gayly. “You got it. That’s enough, isn’t it? Come on over and chin awhile.”

“What time is it? I can’t. I’ve got English at nine. But, gee, I won’t know a thing, I guess!”

“All right, then, I’ll see you at eleven. I’m awfully glad, Toby. You deserved it, too. Every one says that. Lots of fellows were as pleased as anything when Doc announced your name. I guess you got as much clapping as any of them!”

“Did I?” asked Toby in surprise. “Why, I didn’t suppose many fellows knew anything about me! I guess—I guess you’re just jollying!”

“Honest, I’m not! Lots of fellows around where I was sitting nearly clapped their old hands off for you, and four or five said afterwards that they were mighty glad you’d copped it. So long! Come up to the room at eleven, eh?”

Toby nodded and turned back toward the entrance to Oxford. It seemed strange, even incredible, that any one should have cared whether he won that scholarship. But it was mighty nice. It made things even better. He hadn’t supposed that he had any friends in school beside Arnold and, perhaps, a couple of chaps in his own class who had been more or less chummy at times. Well, he would just have to show them and Doctor Collins and—and every one that he really deserved it. He would study as hard as anything and maybe—well, it was only a chance, but maybe, he’d finish in June an Honor Man! Rather a stupendous dream, that, but Toby was feeling stupendous this morning!