My father had written rejoicing to hear of my good prospects, and saying how he and mother were constantly thinking of me in my hard work, and so on.
"Yes," thought I, "they'll be pleased, I know." About a week before the examination I looked at my books rather more frequently, and, now and then (though I would not acknowledge it even to myself), felt my confidence a trifle wavering.

There were a few things I had not noticed before, that must be got up with the rest of the subjects, "However, a day's work will polish them off," said I; "let's see, I've promised to fish with Wilkins to-morrow--I'll have a go in at them on Thursday." But Thursday found me fishing too, and on Friday there was a cricket- match.

However, the examination was not till Tuesday, so there was half a week yet.
Saturday, of course, was a half-holiday, and though I took another look at some of my books, and noted one or two other little things that would have to be got up, I determined that the grand "go in" at, and "polishing off" of, these subjects should take place on Monday.
On Monday accordingly I set to work.
Glancing from my window--as I frequently did while I was at work--whom should I see, with a fly-net over his shoulder, but Wilton, one of the three fellows in against me for the scholarship! And not long after him who should appear arm-in-arm in cricket costume, but Johnson and Walker, the other two! "Ho! ho!" said I to myself, "nice boys these to be going in for an exam.! How can they expect to do anything if they dawdle away their time in this way! I declare I quite feel as if I were taking an unfair advantage of them to be grinding away up here!" Had I realised that these three fellows had been working incessantly for the last month, and were now taking a breath of fresh air in anticipation of the ordeal of the following day, I should have been less astonished at what I saw, and more inclined to work, at any rate this day, like mad.
But I allowed my benevolent desire not to take an unfair advantage to prevail, and was soon far up the stream with my fishing-rod.
So Monday passed.

In the evening I had another turn at my books, but an unsatisfactory one.
"What's the use of muddling my brain?
I had better take it easy, and be fresh for to-morrow," thought I, as I shut them up and pushed my chair back from the table.
Next morning brought me a letter from my father: "This will reach you on the eventful day.

You know who will be thinking of their boy every moment.