The next morning, at twenty minutes of nine, Andy left the house provided with books, and joyfully took his way to the schoolhouse, which was a quarter of a mile distant.  As he ascended the small hill on which it stood, he attracted the attention of a group of boys who had already arrived.  Among them was his old adversary, Godfrey Preston.

“Is that Irish boy coming to school?” he said in a tone of disgust.

“What?  Andy Burke?  I hope so,” said Charles Fleming, “he’s a good fellow.”

“He’s only an Irish boy,” said Godfrey, with a sneer.

“And I am only an American boy,” said Charles, good-humoredly.

“You can associate with him if you want to; I shan’t,” said Godfrey.

“That’s where I agree with you, Godfrey,” said Ben Travers, who made himself rather a toady of Godfrey’s.

Andy had now come up, so that Charles Fleming did not reply, but called out, cordially: 

“Are you coming to school, Andy?”

“Yes,” said Andy.

“I’m glad of it.”

“Thank you,” said Andy.  “What’s the matter with them fellows,” as Godfrey and Bill Travers walked off haughtily, tossing their heads.

Charles Fleming laughed.

“They don’t think we are good enough for their company,” he said.

“I’m not anxious for it,” said Andy.  “I like yours better.”

“I didn’t think you could get away from work to come to school.  Are you working for Miss Grant now?”

“Yes, but she lets me come to school half the day.  She’s a bully ould lady.”

“Well, half a loaf’s better than no bread.  Will you sit with me?  I’ve got no one at my desk.  Say yes.”

“It’s just what I’d like, Charlie, but maybe Godfrey Preston wants to sit with me.  I wouldn’t like to disappoint him,” said Andy, with sly humor.

“Sit with me till he invites you, then.”

“That’ll be a long day.”

They went into the schoolhouse, and Andy deposited his books in the desk next to Charlie Fleming’s.  He couldn’t have wished for a better or more agreeable companion.  Charlie was the son of Dr. Fleming, the village physician, and was a general favorite in the town on account of his sunny, attractive manner.  But, with all his affability, he was independent and resolute, if need be.  He was one of the leaders of the school.  Godfrey aspired also to be a leader, and was to some extent on account of his father’s wealth and high standing, for, as we have seen, Colonel Preston was not like his son.  Still, it is doubtful whether anyone was much attached to Godfrey.  He was too selfish in disposition, and offensively consequential in manner, to inspire devoted friendship.  Ben Travers, however, flattered him, and followed him about, simply because he was the son of a rich man.  Such cases occur sometimes among American schoolboys, but generally they are too democratic and sensible to attach importance to social distinctions in the schoolroom, or in the playground.