Fire was the cause of Martin's getting into disgrace at school for the
first time; and this is how it happened.
"Go and poke the fire, Martin Rattler," said the schoolmaster, "and put
on a bit of coal, and see that you don't send the sparks flying about
the floor."
Martin sprang with alacrity to obey; for he was standing up with the
class at the time, and was glad of the temporary relaxation. He stirred
the fire with great care, and put on several pieces of coal very slowly,
and rearranged them two or three times; after which he stirred the fire
a little more, and examined it carefully to see that it was all right;
but he did not seem quite satisfied, and was proceeding to re-adjust the
coals when Bob Croaker, one of the big boys, who was a bullying,
ill-tempered fellow, and had a spite against Martin, called out--
"Please, sir, Rattler's playin' at the fire."
"Come back to your place, sir!" cried the master, sternly.
Martin returned in haste, and resumed his position in the class. As he
did so he observed that his fore-finger was covered with soot.
Immediately a smile of glee overspread his features; and, while the
master was busy with one of the boys, he drew his black finger gently
down the forehead and nose of the boy next to him.
"What part of the earth was peopled by the descendants of Adam?" cried
the master, pointing to the dux.
"Shem!" shrieked a small boy near the foot of the class.
"Silence!" thundered the master, with a frown that caused the small boy
to quake down to the points of his toes.
"Asia!" answered dux.
"Next?"
"Turkey!"
"Next, next, next? Hallo! John Ward," cried the master, starting up in
anger from his seat, "what do you mean by that, sir?"
"What, sir?" said John Ward, tremulously, while a suppressed titter ran
round the class.
"Your face, sir! Who blacked your face, eh?"
"I--I--don't know," said the boy, drawing his sleeve across his face,
which had the effect of covering it with sooty streaks.
An uncontrollable shout of laughter burst from the whole school, which
was instantly followed by a silence so awful and profound that a pin
might have been heard to fall.
"Martin Rattler, you did that! I know you did,--I see the marks on your
fingers. Come here, sir! Now tell me; did you do it?"
Martin Rattler never told falsehoods. His old aunt had laboured to
impress upon him from infancy that to lie was to commit a sin which is
abhorred by God and scorned by man; and her teaching had not been in
vain. The child would have suffered any punishment rather than have
told a deliberate lie. He looked straight in the master's face and
said, "Yes, sir, I did it."
"Very well, go to your seat, and remain in school during the play-hour."
With a heavy heart Martin obeyed; and soon after the school was
dismissed.
"I say, Rattler," whispered Bob Croaker as he passed, "I'm going to
teach your white kitten to swim just now. Won't you come and see it?"
The malicious laugh with which the boy accompanied this remark convinced
Martin that he intended to put his threat in execution. For a moment he
thought of rushing out after him to protect his pet kitten; but a glance
at the stern brow of the master, as he sat at his desk reading,
restrained him; so, crushing down his feelings of mingled fear and
anger, he endeavoured to while away the time by watching the boys as
they played in the fields before the windows of the school.