That did not seem to check him. "Well, if you ain't a Jew, you look like one. You look more like one than the teacher does." Whereupon, much to my relief, he branched off the subject. "He don't seem to be such a bad fellow, even with a name like Levi. Oi, oi, oi, Levi!" And he chuckled with delight at the thought of how he would annoy and tease this teacher at some future date. There are some boys of whom we can know at a glance that they are bullies and mischief makers. This boy, whose name was Geoghen, was one of them. He used his very lameness as an excuse to boss and bully his classmates. He was very strong, though as I was to learn only too soon--and his size made him an undisputed leader. There were no lessons this first day. There were only a speech of welcome from the teacher, and an assignment of home work for the next morning. But when we were dismissed and had started for the door, Geoghen limped up to me. "So you ain't a Jew, eh?" he chuckled, looking hard into my face. So as to avoid the retort, I fled from him, down the stairs into the main hall. I was just about to gain the street when the principal, coming out of his office, saw me. "What's this?" he said in his deep likable voice. "Running away so soon?" "Yes, sir. We're dismissed for today." "Oh, I see. Well, I suppose you've already begun to fight like a man, haven't you? I hope so." "Oh, yes, sir!" But, as I went, I knew in my heart that it was not true. The whole first day had been false. III FRIDAY NIGHT Those first days at high school seemed terrible in the intensity of new experiences. Had I but had my parents to encourage me, perhaps I should not have felt so bitterly the loneliness of this new turn in the road. I do not care how manly and resolute he is, a boy will always need the kind words, the clasp and kiss which only his parents can give him. And I was not half so resolute then, nor half so hardened to battle as I am now. I worried a good deal about my standing in the class room. It seemed to me that I could not possibly pass each day's recitations creditably. And yet I did, as I remember. It was only that I so sorely lacked self-confidence. My aunt, Mrs. Haberman, did her duty in taking me to a nerve specialist. He charged her a pretty price to examine me and to assure her that, physically, there was nothing wrong with me. "Mentally, he is a little too active," was his sentence upon me. "And that is what makes him melancholy. Let him study, let him get out and meet boys of his own age.... Let him find something to be proud of, to be interested in." My aunt gave this last a few pettish, impatient moments of thought. After the doctor was gone, and she and I sat opposite each other at the table, where the glass and silver made so ostentatious a showing, she did her best to be practical about it.