"
"Perhaps you think Jim can't hurt. I know better than that."
"Did he ever thrash you, then?"
"Half a dozen times."
"Why didn't you tell his uncle?"
"It would be no use. Jim would tell his story, and old Sock would
believe him. But here's Mr. Crabb, the usher, the man I was to
introduce you to."
Hector looked up, and saw advancing a young man, dressed in rusty
black, with a meek and long-suffering expression, as one who was
used to being browbeaten. He was very shortsighted, and wore
eyeglasses.
CHAPTER XIII.
IN THE SCHOOLROOM.
"Mr. Crabb," said Wilkins, "this is the new scholar, Roscoe. Mr.
Smith asked me to bring him to you."
"Ah, indeed!" said Crabb, adjusting his glasses, which seemed to sit
uneasily on his nose. "I hope you are well, Roscoe?"
"Thank you, sir; my health is good."
"The schoolbell will ring directly. Perhaps you had better come into
the schoolroom and select a desk."
"Very well, sir."
"Are you a classical scholar, Roscoe?"
"Yes, sir.
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