"Can't do it," answered Thomas promptly.

"Henry may do it, then."

"I couldn't get it either," was Henry's answer. So on down the cla.s.s; Tip's heart meantime beating eagerly, for the twenty-third example was about his troublesome, but by this time very much-beloved sheep.

"Robert?" said Mr. Burrows, more for form's sake than because he had the slightest doubt about Robert's reply.

"My!" said Bob Turner good-naturedly; "I can't do it."

Tip sat next, and something in his face made Mr. Burrows put the question to him, though he had nearly resolved to waste no more time in the matter.

"Can you do this, Edward?"

"Yes, sir," said Tip promptly and proudly, "I can."

And no n.o.bler figures or firmer lines did chalk ever make on a blackboard than was made while that troublesome example was being done.

He was roused from his flutter of satisfaction by hearing Mr.

Burrows' voice.

"Do you know anything about the lesson, _any_ of you?"

"I'm sure _I_ don't," answered Bob, still good-naturedly.

Mr. Burrows was growing utterly out of patience; this same scene had been acted too often to be endured longer. He turned back to the first pages in the book.

"Very well," he said at last; "you may take the first page in addition to-morrow morning, and we'll see if you can be made to know anything about that."

Tip's hopes fell; his heart was as heavy as lead. Not one of the others cared; they were used to it; so indeed was he, only now he was trying, he did so long to go on; just when he was working _so_ hard, to be put away back to the beginning again made him feel utterly disgraced.

"Wait a minute, Tip." Mr. Burrows' eye fell first on him, then on the neatly and correctly worked example; then he turned, and asked, "Charlie Wilc.o.x, on what page is your arithmetic lesson for to-morrow?"

"We commence multiplication, sir," answered Charlie, a bright little boy, who belonged to a bright cla.s.s, that did not idle over any pages in their work.

"Edward," said Mr. Burrows, turning back to Tip, "you have done well to-day. You mean to study, after this, I think; I have been watching you for some time. The third arithmetic cla.s.s take the first page in multiplication for their next lesson to-morrow; you may take your place in that cla.s.s, and remain there as long as you can keep up with it."

Now Tip was too much astonished to speak or move; his wildest dreams had not taken in promotion, at least not for a long, _long_ time.

Bob Turner leaned over and looked at him in actual sober wonder, that Tip was to be in a higher cla.s.s.

Not a word did Tip say. He did not even raise his eyes to his teacher's face; and that teacher had not the least idea how the boy before him felt. He did not know how Tip's heart was throbbing, nor how he was saying over and over to himself, "Things are different; they're surely different." He did not know how those few words of his, spoken that winter morning, were going to help to make the boy a man.

It was that very morning, standing in that room before the blackboard, with his toe on the third crack from the wall, that Tip resolved to have an education.

CHAPTER XIII.

"The rich and poor meet together; the Lord is the Maker of them all."

The boys gathered around the stove before school, and talked. The boys,--not all of them, by any means. Only that small, select number who were above, and led all the rest. Tip wandered outside of the circle, feeling very forlorn; he didn't belong anywhere these days. Bob and his friends had very nearly deserted him; there was scarcely any of their fun in which he had time or desire to join, and the other cliques in school had never noticed him; so he stood outside, and wondered what he should do with himself. Howard Minturn wheeled suddenly away from the boys, and called to him,--

"Tip, see here."

And Tip went there.

"What do you want?" he asked crossly; for some way he felt out of sorts with that company of finely-dressed boys around the stove.

"Want you to come over to-night. It's my birthday, you know, and some of the boys are coming to take tea, and spend the evening. Can you come?"

Tip's wide-open eyes spoke his astonishment. "What do you want of me?" he asked at last, speaking boldly just what he thought.

"Why, I want you to come and help have a nice time," returned Howard, with great kindness, but just a little condescension in his tone.

Tip heard it, and his bitterness showed itself a little. "It's a new streak you've got, ain't it?" he said, still speaking crossly. "You've had lots of birthdays, and this is the first one _I've_ heard of."

"Oh, well!" said Howard proudly, flushing as he spoke; "if you don't want to come, why"--

Mr. Burrows' hand was laid on Howard's arm. "Don't spoil a good, n.o.ble thing, my boy. It is all new to Edward; _urge_ him."

Mr. Burrows spoke low, so no one else could hear him, and turned away.

At recess Howard sought out Tip.

"I honestly hope you'll come to-night, Tip, for you're a good fellow to play games with, and the boys would all like to have you."

Tip had quarrelled with his ill-humour, and it had vanished.

"I'll come," he said, in a cheery tone; "only I'll look like a big rag-bag by the side of _you_ fellows."

"Never mind," said Howard, turning to join the boys, "_you_ come."

Why had Howard Minturn invited him to the grand birthday party? This was the question that puzzled Tip. Had he known the reason, it would have been like this: Mr. Minturn had never quite lost sight of Tip since the circus. He wanted to help him,--wanted to do it through his son; only he wanted the son to think that he did it himself. Knowing Howard pretty well, he said, when they were seated at breakfast that morning,--

"I've just been reading about a real hero."

Howard longed to be a hero; he looked up eagerly.

"Who was he, father? What did he do?"

"He was a rich young man, and he had the courage to take for his friend a poor fellow who hadn't two cents to his name. To pay him, the time came when he was proud to be noticed by the great man who was once so low."

This thought was still in Howard's mind when he walked with Ellis to school. So, when Ellis said, "There goes Tip Lewis; father thinks we boys ought to notice him; he is trying real hard now-a-days to behave himself, you know," it was easy for Howard to mingle Tip in with his thoughts.

"Ellis," he said, after a moment's silence, "suppose I invite him to come to our house to-night? He's a splendid good fellow to have a game; never gets mad, you know."

"S'pose he'd come?" asked Ellis.