There! it was out! Or had he really said it?

He looked at the professor in terror, but Kane was already calling,
"Dana, R.T." Hugh sank back in his chair; he was trembling.

Kane announced the text-book, and when Hugh caught the word
"trigonometry" he actually thrilled with joy. He had had trig in high
school. Whoops! Would he hit Math I in the eye? He'd knock it for a
goal.... Then conscience spoke. Oughtn't he to tell Kane that he had
already had trig? He guessed quite rightly that Kane had not understood
his high-school credentials, which had given him credit for "advanced
mathematics." Kane had taken it for granted that that was advanced
algebra. Hugh felt that he ought to explain the mistake, but fear of the
arid, impersonal man restrained him. Kane had told him to take Math I;
and Kane was law.

Unlike most of Hugh's instructors, Kane kept the class the full hour the
first day, seating them in alphabetical order--he had to repeat the
performance three times during the week as new men entered the
class--lecturing them on the need of doing their problems carefully and
accurately, and discoursing on the value of mathematics, trigonometry in
particular, in the study of science and engineering. Hugh was not
interested in science, engineering, or mathematics, but he listened
carefully, trying hard to follow Kane's cold discourse. At the end of
the hour he told his neighbor as they left the room that he guessed that
Professor Kane knew an awful lot, and his neighbor agreed with him.

Hugh's other instructors proved less impressive than Kane; in fact, Mr.
Alling, the instructor in Latin, was altogether disconcerting.