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PARTISAN REVIEW
Christian name for the occasion. But there was a sort of patronage,
almost a sneer, in her face and in her voice. The tone in which she
said good-by was nearly the tone in which she had been used to
say
little butterflies.
I had won two scholarships, but I was a
failure, because success was measured not by what you did but by
what you
were.
I was "not a good type of boy and could bring no
credit on the school." I did not "possess character or courage or health
or strength or money, or even good manners, the power to look like
a gentleman."
"Good-by," Bingo's parting smile seemed to say; "It's not
worth quarreling now. You haven't made much of a success of your
time at Crossgates, have you? And I don't suppose you'll get on
awfully well at a public school either. We made a mistake, really,
in wasting our time and money on you. This kind of education hasn't
much to offer to a boy with your background and outlook. Oh,
don't think we don't understand you! We know all about those ideas
you have at the back of your head, we know you disbelieve in every–
thing we've taught you, and we know you aren't in the least grate–
ful for all we've done for you. But there's no use in bringing it all up
now. We aren't responsible for you 'any longer, and we shan't be
seeing you again. Let's just admit that you're one of our failures
and part without ill-feeling. And so, good-by."
That at least was what I read into her face. And yet how happy
I was, that winter morning, as the train bore me away with the
gleaming new silk tie round my neck! The world was opening
before me, just a little, like a gray sky which exhibits a narrow
crack of blue. A public school would be better fun than Cross–
gates but at bottom equally ,alien. In a world where the prime
necessities were money, titled relatives, athleticism, tailor-made
clothes, neatly brushed hair, a charming smile, I was no good. All
I had gained was a breathing-space. A little quietude, a little self–
indulgence, a little respite from cramming-and then, ruin. What
kind of ruin I did not know: perhaps the colonies or an office stool,
perhaps prison or an early death. But first a year or two in which
one could "slack off" and get the benefit of one's sins, like Doctor
Faustus. It is the advantage of being thirteen that you can not only
live in the moment, but do so with full consciousness, foreseeing
the future and yet not caring about it. Next term I was going to
