But if Dick was a hero, his conception of the role was all wrong, judged by the accepted standard. Instead of wearing an expression of modest pride, instead of receiving the tributes of an admiring public with blushes and murmured expostulations as, of course, every hero has done since the time of Adam, he mooned around out-of-the-way corners like a bear with a sore head, while his most gracious response to the admiring public was a muttered “Oh, dry up, will you?” delivered in something between a growl and a groan. “You’re absolutely the most disappointing hero I ever heard of!” said Trevor in disgust. “Why, if I’d done a thing like that I’d be strutting around the yard with my head back and my thumbs in my waistcoat pockets! A chap would think you were grouchy about it!” Whereupon Dick turned angrily: “Trevor, if you don’t shut up I’ll pound you good and hard! Now, I mean what I say!” “Some are born to greatness,” murmured Trevor, “some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them--and are exceeding wroth. I have spoken!” And having spoken, he bolted out the door a fraction of a second ahead of a German dictionary thrown with much vigor and precision. But, despite Dick’s displeasure, there was both truth and justice in Trevor’s charge. Dick was disappointing. And the school at large marveled, and finding that their admiration for the plucky rescue was not wanted, thereafter refrained from further mention of the matter in Dick’s presence. And that youth kept to his room a good deal, where, instead of delving in his books, he sat glowering into space, or walked restlessly around like a caged lion. He became extremely taciturn, and even rowing affairs failed to arouse any but the most indifferent replies. Trevor wondered and grew alarmed.