Then _quartus_, Blomberg, who was a passionate botanist, received a
valuable text book on his favourite subject. Still the rector went on,
and Keith felt sure that his name had been passed over by some mistake,
and that now it would come.
"A German lexicon for special attention to the student of that
language," the Rector droned on.
Again Keith started to rise from his seat, but even as he did so, it
flashed through his mind that he was given no more attention to German
than to other studies.
"... to Otto Krass of the Second Grade," the Rector completed his
sentence, holding out a book.
As Keith sank back on the bench, Krass, _quintus_, rose with an
expression on his face as if he had become personally involved in a
particularly incredible miracle.
A whisper ran through the rest of the class. Glances were cast at Keith,
who felt them like so many lashes on bare skin although in every other
respect he had once more become utterly unconscious of what happened
about him.
By slow degrees he recovered so far that he could try to think, but the
process was unendurable. There could be no accident. It was a deliberate
slight aimed at him for some specific reason. He tried to think of the
past year and its happenings in and out of school, but this effort
produced no solution to the riddle.
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