for the professor knew just about what would be required at the
entrance examination, and he had kept the boy digging away away at the
propositions in the First Book of Euclid, had drilled him in Caesar,
caused him to spend weary hours over Virgil and the Iliad, and made him
not a little weary of his Xenophon.

As he passed without a condition, although he had been told again and
again that a course at Phillips Academy was almost an absolute
necessity, Frank was decidedly grateful to the professor.

Professor Scotch's anxiety had brought him to New Haven, where he
remained "till the agony was over," as Frank expressed it. The little
man bubbled over with delight when he found his _protégé_ had gone
through without a struggle.

Having secured the rooms on York Street, the professor saw Frank
comfortably settled, and then, before taking his departure, he attempted
to give the boy some wholesome advice.

"Don't try to put on many frills here the first year," he said. "You
will find that freshmen do not cut much of a figure here. It doesn't
make any difference what you have done or what you have been elsewhere,
you will have to establish a record by what you do and what you become
here. You'll find these fellows here won't care a rap if you have
discovered the North Pole or circumnavigated the globe in--er--ah--ten
days. It will be all the better for you if you do not let them know you
are rich in your own name and have traveled in South America, Africa,
Europe, and other countries. They'd think you were bragging or lying if
you mentioned it, and--"