The school work was no trouble to me. I put in a year, and vacation time came along almost before I knew it. I was saving all the money I earned as assistant to Cy, and was looking forward to earning more during vacation. I brought home to my father a report from the school which seemed to show that I had made good progress. He glanced at the card and threw it to one side.

“I suppose you have the multiplication table this time, John?”

“Oh, yes, I learned it at last.”

“How many are eight times nine, John?”

“Seventy-two, sir.”

“Good. Seven times six?”

“Forty-two, sir.”

“Correct, John.”