He would fix his mind and eyes on Miss Wilson's face, who was now sitting at her desk, and even as he looked at her the face of Brick Simpson, impudent and pugnacious, would arise before him.

It was of no use.

He felt sick and sore and tired and worthless.

There was nothing to be done but flunk.
And when, after an age of waiting, the papers were collected, his went in a blank, save for his name, the name of the examination, and the date, which were written across the top.
After a brief interval, more papers were given out, and the examination in arithmetic began.

He did not trouble himself to look at the questions.
Ordinarily he might have pulled through such an examination, but in his present state of mind and body he knew it was impossible.