They overlooked the fact that it was creditable to him
to have risen from the ranks, though the rise was only in wealth, for
Mr. Fletcher was a purse-proud parvenu, who owed all the
consideration he enjoyed to his commercial position. Fitz liked to
have it understood that he was of patrician lineage, and carefully
ignored the little grocery, and certain country relations who
occasionally paid a visit to their wealthy relatives, in spite of the
rather frigid welcome they received.
"Oh, I suppose there are exceptions," Fletcher admitted reluctantly.
"Your father was smart."
"So is Harry Walton. I know what he is aiming at, and I predict that
he will be an influential editor some day."
"Have you got your Greek lesson?" asked Fletcher, abruptly, who did
not relish the course the conversation had taken.
"Yes."
"Then I want you to translate a passage for me. I couldn't make it
out."
"All right."
Half an hour later Fletcher left Vincent's room.
"What a snob he is!" thought Oscar.
And Oscar was right.
CHAPTER IX.
THE CLIONIAN SOCIETY.
On Thursday evening the main school of the Academy building was
lighted up, and groups of boys, varying in age from thirteen to
nineteen, were standing in different parts of the room. These were
members of the Clionian Society, whose weekly meeting was about to
take place.
At eight o'clock precisely the President took his place at the
teacher's desk, with the Secretary at his side, and rapped for order.
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