CHAPTER IV.
QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM.
It was toward the latter half of the first entrance examination—all was silence and gloom within and sunshine and shouting without—baseballs were in the air and a very amateur battery was practising beneath the window.
Congreve looked about the room. He had just printed Q.E.D. in very large letters at the end of a labyrinth of algebraic signs and formulæ. He was quite sure in his own mind that he was entirely wrong, but, nevertheless, Q.E.D. looked well in place.
In the next seat to him, writing with a long gold pencil attached to his heavy watch chain, was a short young man, very natty in dress, with a big pearl horse-shoe in his spotted necktie. He had nearly finished his paper, and he occasionally shuffled with his feet. At last he looked at his huge gold watch, and, despite the
