CHAPTER II.
IN WHICH THERE IS TROUBLE IN THE PARKVILLE LIBERAL INSTITUTE.
I wish to say in the beginning, and once for all, that I did not setmyself up as a saint, or even as a model boy. I made no pretensions,but I did try to be good and true. I felt that I had no one in thisworld to rely upon for my future; everything depended upon myselfalone, and I realized the responsibility of building up my owncharacter. I do not mean to assert that I had all these ideas andpurposes clearly defined in my own mind; only that I had a simpleabstract desire to be good, and to do good, without knowing preciselyin what the being and the doing consisted. My notions, many of them, Iam now aware, were crude and undefined.
I have observed that I was a favorite among the boys of theInstitute, a kind of leader and oracle among them, though I was notfully conscious of the fact at the time. While I now think I owe thegreater portion of the esteem and regard in which I was held by mycompanions to my desire to be good and true, I must acknowledge thatother circumstances had their influence upon them. I was the owner ofthe best boat on Lake Adieno, and to the boys this was a matter of nosmall consequence. There were half a dozen row-boats belonging to theacademy, but nothing that carried a sail.
I always had money. I had only to ask my uncle for any sum I wanted,and it was given me, without a question as to its intended use. Imention the fact to his discredit, and it would have been a luxury tome to have had him manifest interest enough in my welfare to refuse myrequest.
I was naturally enterprising and fearless, and was therefore foremostin all feats of daring, in all trials of skill in athletic games.Indeed, to sum up the estimate which was made of me by my associatesin school and the people of Parkville, I was "a smart boy." Perhapsmy vanity was tickled once or twice by hearing this appellationapplied to me; but I am sure I was not spoiled by the favor with whichI was regarded.
Though I was not an unhappy boy, there was an aching void in my heartwhich I could not fill, a longing for such a home as hundreds of myyoung friends enjoyed; and I would gladly have exchanged the freedomfrom restraint for which others envied me for the poorest home in thetown, where I could have been welcomed by a fond mother, where I couldhave had a kind father to feel an interest in me.
During the spring, summer, and autumn months, when the wind andweather would permit, I went to school in my sail-boat. My course layalong the shore, and if I was becalmed and likely to be tardy, I hadonly to moor my craft, and take to the road. At the noon intermission,therefore, my boat was available for use, and I always had a party.
On the day that I was called up charged with fighting, the Splash--forthat was the suggestive name I had chosen for my trim littlecraft--was lying at the boat pier on the lake in front of theInstitute building. The forenoon session of the school had justclosed, and I had gone to the boat to eat my dinner, which I alwayscarried in the stern locker.
Before I had finished, Bill Poodles came down with an Arithmetic inhis hand. It was the dinner hour of the boarding students, and Iwondered that Bill was not in the refectory. Our class had a difficultlesson in arithmetic that day, which I had worked out in the solitudeof my chamber at the cottage the preceding evening. The students hadbeen prohibited, under the most severe penalty, from assisting eachother; and it appeared that Bill had vainly applied to half a dozen ofhis classmates for help: none of them dared to afford it.
Bill Poodles was a disagreeable fellow, arrogant and "airy" as he waslazy and stupid. I doubt whether he ever learned a difficult taskalone. The arithmetic lesson was a review of the principles which theclass had gone over, and consisted of a dozen examples, printed on aslip of paper, to test the knowledge of the students; and it wasintimated that those who failed would be sent down into a lower class.Bill dreaded anything like a degradation. He was proud, if he waslazy. He knew that I had performed the examples, and while hisfellow-boarders were at dinner, he had stolen the opportunity toappeal to me for the assistance he so much needed.
Though Bill was a disagreeable fellow, and though, in common with amajority of the students, I disliked him, I would willingly haveassisted him if the prohibition to do so had not been so emphatic. Mr.Parasyte was so particular in the present instance, that the followingdeclaration had been printed on the examination paper, and each boywas required to sign it:--
_"I declare upon my honor, that I have had no assistance whatever insolving these examples, and that I have given none to others."_
Bill begged me to assist him. I reasoned with him, and told him he hadbetter fail in the review than forfeit his honor by subscribing to afalsehood. He made light of my scruples; and then I told him I hadalready signed my own paper, and would not falsify my statement.
"Humph!" exclaimed he, with a sneer. "You hadn't given any oneassistance when you signed, but you can do it now, and it will be nolie."
I was indignant at the proposition, it was so mean and base; and Iexpressed myself squarely in regard to it. I had finished my dinner,and, closing the locker, stepped out of the boat upon the pier. Billfollowed me, begging and pleading till I was disgusted with him. Itold him then that I would not do what he asked if he teased me for amonth. He was angry, and used insulting language. I turned on my heelto leave him. He interpreted this movement on my part as an act ofcowardice, and, coming up behind me, struck me a heavy blow on theback of the head with his fist. He was on the point of following it upwith another, when, though he was eighteen years old, and half a foottaller than I was, I hit him fairly in the eye, and knocked him overbackwards, off the pier, and into the lake.
A madder fellow than Bill Poodles never floundered in shallow water.The lake where he fell was not more than two or three feet deep, anddoubtless its soft bosom saved him from severe injury. He pickedhimself up, and, dripping from his bath, rushed to the shore. He wasinsane with passion. Seizing a large stone, he hurled it at me. Imoved towards him, with the intention of checking his demonstration,when his valor was swallowed up in discretion, and he rushed towardsthe school building.
For this offence I was brought to the bar of Mr. Parasyte's unevenjustice. Poodles had told his own story after changing his drabbledgarments. It was unfortunate that there were no witnesses of theaffray, for the principal would sooner have doubted the evidence ofhis own senses than the word of Bill Poodles, simply because it wasnot politic for him to do so. My accuser declared that he had spokencivilly and properly to me, and that I had insulted him. He had walkedup to me, and placed his hand upon my shoulder, simply to attract myattention, when I had struck him a severe blow in the face, which hadknocked him over backwards into the lake.
In answer to this charge, I told the truth exactly as it was. Billacknowledged that he had asked me some questions about the reviewlesson, which I had declined to answer. He was sorry he had offendedso far, but was not angry at my refusal. He had determined tosacrifice his dinner, and his play during the intermission, to enablehim to perform the examples. I persisted in the statement I hadalready made, and refused to modify it in any manner. It was thesimple truth.
"Ernest Thornton," said Mr. Parasyte, solemnly, "hitherto I haveregarded you with favor. I have looked upon you as a worthy anddeserving boy, and I confess my surprise and grief at the event ofto-day. Not content with the dastardly assault committed upon WilliamPoodles,--whose devotion to his duty and his studies has beenmanifested by the sacrifice of his dinner,--you utter the mostbarefaced falsehood which it was ever my misfortune to hear a boytell."
"I have told the truth, sir!" I exclaimed, my cheek burning withindignation.
"Silence, sir! Such conduct and such a boy cannot be tolerated at theParkville Liberal Institute. But in consideration of your former goodconduct, I purpose to give you an opportunity to redeem yourcharacter."
"My character don't need any redeeming," I declared, stoutly.
"I see you are in a very unhappy frame of mind, and I fear you areincorrigible. But I must do my duty, and I proceed to pronounce yoursentence, which is, that you be expelled from the Park
ville LiberalInstitute."
"Bill Poodles is the biggest liar in the school!" shouted a daringlittle fellow among my friends, who were astounded at the result ofthe examination, and at the sentence.
"That's so!" said another.
"Yes!" "Yes!" "Yes!" shouted a dozen more. "Throw him over! BillPoodles is the liar!"
Mr. Parasyte was appalled at this demonstration--a demonstration whichnever could have occurred without the provocation of the grossestinjustice. The boys were well disciplined, and the order of theInstitute was generally unexceptionable. Such a flurry had neverbefore been known, and it was evident that the students intended totake the law into their own hands. They acted upon the impulse of themoment, and I judged that at least one half of them were engaged inthe demonstration.
Poodles was a boy of no principle; he was notorious as a liar; and theboys regarded it as an outrage upon themselves and upon me that heshould be believed, while my story appeared to have no weightwhatever.
Mr. Parasyte trembled, not alone with rage, but with fear. Thestartling event then transpiring threatened the peace, if not the veryexistence, of the Parkville Liberal Institute. I folded my arms,--forI felt my dignity,--and endeavored to be calm, though my bosom heavedand bounded with emotion.
"Boys--young gentlemen, I--" the principal began.
"Throw him over! Put him out!" yelled the students, excited beyondmeasure.
"Young gentlemen!" shouted Mr. Parasyte.
"Three cheers for Ernest Thornton!" hoarsely screamed Bob Hale, myintimate friend and longtime "crony."
They were given with an enthusiasm which bordered on infatuation.
"Will you hear me, students?" cried Mr. Parasyte.
"No!" "No!" "No!" "Throw him over!" "Put him out!"
The scene was almost as unpleasant to me as to the principal, proud asI was of the devotion of my friends. I did not wish to be vindicatedin such a way, and I was anxious to put a stop to such disorderlyproceedings. I raised my hand in an appealing gesture.
"Fellow-students," said I; and the school-room was quiet.