"It's as good as getting the valedictory," said
Joe Stone.
"And that is entering into any college in the
land without an examination," said Peter Crane.
Now Peter had run shoulder to shoulder with
Fred and it does him great credit that, being
beaten, he was
thoroughlygood-natured about it.
"I say, Fred, you ought to treat for this;" and
Noah Holmes,
standing on
tiptoe, looked over the
heads of the other boys significantly at Fred.
"I wish I could; but here's all the money I've
got," said Fred,
taking about twenty-five cents from
his pocket--all that was left of his
monthly allowance.
"That's better than nothing. It will buy an
apple
apiece. Come on! Let's go down to old
Granger's. I saw some apples there big as your
head; and bigger, too," said Noah, with a droll
wink.
"Well, come on, then;" and away went the boys
at Fred's heels, pushing and shouting, laughing and
frolicking, until they came to Abel Granger's little
grocery.
"Now hush up, you fellows," said Noah, turning
round upon them. "Let Fred go in by himself.
Old Grange can't abide a crowd and noise. It will
make him cross, and all we shall get will be the
specked and worm-eaten ones. Come, fall back,
there!"
Very quietly and obediently the boys, who always
knew their leader, fell back, and Fred went into
the little dark
grocery alone.
He was so pleasant and gentlemanly that, let him
go where he would and do what he would, in some
mysterious way he always found the right side of
people and got what he wanted, in the most
satisfactory manner.
Now Abel Granger was "as cross as a meat axe."
Noah said, and all the boys were afraid of him. If
the apples had been
anywhere else they would
have been much surer of their treat; but in spite of
their fears, back came Fred in a few moments, with
a heaping
measure of nice red apples--apples that
made the boys' mouths water.
Fred said that old Abel had given him as near a
smile as could come to his yellow, wrinkled face.
"Treat 'em," he said, "treat 'em, eh? Wal, now,
'pears likely they'd eat you out of house and home.
I never see a boy yet that couldn't go through a
tenpenny nail, easy as not."
"We ARE always hungry, I believe," said Fred.
"Allers, allers--that's a fact," picking out the
best apples as he spoke and heaping up the
measure.
"There, now if you'll find a better lot than that, for
the money, you are
welcome to it, that's all."
"Couldn't do it. Thank you very much," said
Fred.
As the boys took the apples
eagerly and began to
bite them, they saw the old face looking out of the
dirty panes of window glass upon them.
Fred loved to make everybody happy around
him, and this treating was only second best to leading
his class; so when, at the corner of the street
turning to his father's house, he parted from his
young companions, I doubt whether there was a
happier boy in all Andrewsville.
I do not think we shall blame him very much if
he
unconsciously carried his head pretty high and
looked
proudly happy.
Out from under the low archway leading to Bill
Crandon's house a boy about as tall as Fred, but
stout and
coarse, in
ragged clothes, stood staring up
and down the street as Fred came toward him.
Something in Fred's looks and manner seemed
especially to
displease him. He moved directly into
the middle of the
sidewalk, and squared himself as
if for a fight.
There was no other boy in town whom Fred disliked
so much, and of whom he felt so afraid.
Sam Crandon, everybody knew, was a bully. He
treated boys who were larger and stronger than
himself civilly, but was cruel and domineering over
the poor and weak.
So far in his life, though they met often, Fred had
avoided coming into
contact with Sam, and Sam
had seemed to feel just a little awe of him; for Mr.
Sargent was one of the wealthiest leading men in
town, and Sam, in spite of himself, found something
in the handsome, gentlemanly boy that held him in
check; but to-day Sam's father had just
beaten him,
and the boy was smarting from the blows.
I dare say he was hungry, and uncomfortable
from many other causes; but however this may
have been, he felt in the mood for making trouble;
for
seeing somebody else
unhappy beside himself.
This
prosperous, well-dressed boy, with his books
under his arm, and his happy face, was the first
person he had come across--and here then was his
opportunity.
Fred saw him assume the attitude of a prize
fighter and knew what it meant. Sam had a cut,
red and
swollen, across one cheek, and this helped
to make his
unpleasant face more ugly and lowering
than usual.
What was to be done? To turn and run never
occurred to Fred. To meet him and fight it out
was
equally impossible; so Fred stopped and looked
at him irresolutely.
"You're afraid of a licking?" asked Sam, grinning
ominously.
"I don't want to fight," said Fred, quietly.
"No more you don't, but you've got to."
Fred's blood began to rise. The words and looks
of the rough boy were a little too much for his
temper.
"Move out of the way," he said, walking directly
up to him.
Sam hesitated for a moment. The steady, honest,
bold look in Fred's eyes was far more
effective than
a blow would have been; but as soon as Fred had
passed him he turned and struck him a quick, stinging
blow between his shoulders.
"That's mean," said Fred, wheeling round.
"Strike fair and in front if you want to, but don't
hit in the back--that's a coward's trick."
"Take it there, then," said Sam, aiming a heavy
blow at Fred's breast. But the latter skillfully
raised his books, and Sam's knuckles were the worse
for the encounter.
"Hurt, did it?" said Fred, laughing.
"What if it did?"
"Say quits, then."
"Not by a good deal;" and in spite of himself
Fred was d
ragged into an ignominious street
fight.
Oh, how grieved and mortified he was when his
father, coming down the street, saw and called to
him. Hearing his voice Sam ran away and Fred,
bruised and smarting, with his books torn and his
clothes, too, went over to his father.
Not a word did Mr. Sargent say. He took Fred's
hand in his, and the two walked
silently to their
home.
I doubt whether Mr. Sargent was
acting wisely.
Fred never had told him an untruth in his life, and
a few words now might have set matters right.
But to this roughness in boys Mr. Sargent had a
special aversion. He had so often taken pains to
instill its impropriety and vulgarity into Fred's mind
that he could not now imagine an excuse.
"He should not have done so under any circumstances,"
said his father
sternly, to himself. "I am
both surprised and shocked, and the
punishmentmust be severe."
Unfortunately for Fred, his mother was out of
town for a few days--a mother so much sooner than
a father reaches the heart of her son--so now his
father said:
"You will keep your room for the next week. I
shall send your excuse to your teacher. Ellen will
bring your meals to you. At the end of that time I
will see and talk with you."
Without a word Fred hung his cap upon its nail,
and went to his room. Such a sudden change from
success and elation to shame and condign
punishmentwas too much for him.
He felt confused and bewildered. Things looked
dark around him, and the great boughs of the
Norway
spruce, close up by his window, nodded and
winked at him in a very odd way.
He had been often reproved, and sometimes had
received a slight
punishment, but never anything
like this. And now he felt
innocent, or rather at first
he did not feel at all, everything was so strange
and unreal.
He heard Ellen come into his room after a few
minutes with his dinner, but he did not turn.
A cold numbing sense of
disgrace crept over
him. He felt as if, even before this Irish girl, he
could never hold up his head again.
He did not wish to eat or do anything. What
could it all mean?
Slowly the whole position in which he was placed
came to him. The boys
gathering at school; the
surprise with which his
absence would be noted;
the lost honor, so
lately won; his father's sad, grave
face; his sisters' unhappiness; his mother's sorrow;
and even Sam's face, so ugly in its
triumph, all were
there.
What an afternoon that was! How slowly the
long hours d
ragged themselves away! And yet
until dusk Fred bore up
bravely. Then he leaned
his head on his hands. Tired, hungry, worn out
with sorrow, he burst into tears and cried like a
baby.
Don't blame him. I think any one of us would
have done the same.
"Oh, mother! mother!" said Fred aloud, to himself,
"do come home! do come home!"
Ellen looked very sympathizing when she came
in with his tea, and found his dinner untouched.
"Eat your tea, Master Fred," she said, gently.
"The like of ye can't go without your victuals, no