George is the ideal of those men. They
all say he gave them their start in the right direction, and always
speak his name with reverence. George has these thirteen stars in
his crown that I know of. He had no degrees, but I am thinking that
some time he will hear the plaudit: "Well done, good and faithful
servant."
CHAPTER XXVIII
PURELY PEDAGOGICAL
It was a dark, cold, rainy night in November. The wind whistled
about the house, the rain beat a tattoo against the window-panes and
flooded the sills. The big base-burner, filled with anthracite coal,
was illuminating the room through its mica windows, on all sides, and
dispensing a warmth that smiled at the storm and cold outside. There
was a book in the picture, also; and a pair of slippers; and a
smoking-jacket; and an armchair. From the ceiling was suspended a
great lamp that joined gloriously in the chorus of light and cheer.
The man who sat in the armchair, reading the book, was a
schoolmaster--a college professor to be exact. Soft music floated up
from below stairs as a soothing accompaniment to his reading.
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