After a while, we got into the way of calling him Rectus, and as he didn't seem to mind it, the name stuck to him.

The boys generally liked him, and he got on quite well in the school,--in every way except in his studies.

He was not a smart boy, and did not pretend to be.
I went right through the academy, from the lowest to the highest class, and when I left, the professor, as we called our principal, said that I was ready to go to college, and urged me very much to do so.

But I was not in any hurry, and my parents agreed with me that, after four years of school-life, I had better wait a while before beginning a new course.
All this disturbed the professor very much, but he insisted on my keeping up my studies, so as not to get rusty, and he came up to our house very often, for the purpose of seeing what I was doing in the study line, and how I was doing it.
I thought over things a good deal for myself, and a few months after I left the academy I made up my mind to travel a little.

I talked about it at home, and it was generally thought to be a good idea, although my sister was in favor of it only in case I took her with me.