Mr. Crabb acted rashly in siding with Hector, and speaking against Mr.
Smith’s nephew. Socrates showed his displeasure by a frigid demeanor,
and by seeking occasions for snubbing his assistant. On the other hand,
Hector felt grateful for his intercession, and an intimacy sprang up
between them.
A few days afterward, on a half holiday, Mr. Crabb said: “Roscoe, I am
going out for a walk. Do you care to accompany me?”
“I will do so with pleasure,” said Hector, sincerely.
“Mr. Crabb,” he said, after they were fairly on their way, “I am sorry
to see that Mr. Smith has not forgiven you for taking my part against
Jim.”
“I would do it again, Roscoe,” said the usher. “I could not sit silent
while so great an injustice was being done.”
“Do you think Jim was punished?”
“I am sure he was not. He is a boy after Mr. Smith’s own heart, that
is, he possesses the same mean and disagreeable qualities, perhaps in a
greater degree. Has he interfered with you since?”
“No,” answered Hector, smiling; “he probably found that I object to
being bullied.”
“You are fortunate in being strong enough to withstand his attacks.”
“Yes,” said Hector, quietly; “I am not afraid of him.”
“Bullies are generally cowards,” said the usher.
“I wonder, Mr. Crabb, you are willing to stay at Smith Institute, as
usher to such a man as Mr. Smith.”
“Ah, Roscoe!” said Mr. Crabb, sighing; “it is not of my own free will
that I stay. Poverty is a hard task-master. I must teach for a living.”
“But surely you could get a better position?”
“Perhaps so; but how could I live while I was seeking for it. My lad,”
he said, after a pause, “I have a great mind to confide in you; I want
one friend to whom I can talk unreservedly.”
“Mr. Crabb,” said Hector, earnestly, “I shall feel flattered by your
confidence.”
“Thank you, Roscoe; or, rather, since we are going to be friends, let me
distinguish you from the other boys and call you Hector.”
“I wish you would, sir.”
“I need not tell you that I am poor,” continued Mr. Crabb; “you can read
it in my shabby clothes. I sometimes see the boys looking at my poor
suit, as if they wondered why I dressed so badly. Smith has more than
once cast insulting looks at my rusty coat. It is not penuriousness, as
some of the boys may think--it is poverty that prevents me from attiring
myself more becomingly.”
“Mr. Crabb, I sympathize with you,” said Hector.
“Thank you, Hector. Of that I am sure.”
“Mr. Smith ought to pay you enough to clothe yourself neatly. He makes
you work hard enough.”
“He pays me twenty dollars a month,” said the usher; “twenty dollars and
my board.”
“Is that all?” asked Hector, in amazement. “Why, the girl in the kitchen
earns nearly that.”
“To be sure,” answered the usher, bitterly; “but in Mr. Smith’s
estimation, I stand very little higher. He does not value education, not
possessing it himself. However, you may wonder why, even with this
sum, I cannot dress better. It is because I have another than myself to
support.”
“You are not married?” asked Hector, in surprise.
“No; but I have an invalid sister, who is wholly dependent upon me. To
her I devote three-quarters of my salary, and this leaves me very little
for myself. My poor sister is quite unable to earn anything for herself,
so it is a matter of necessity.”
“Yes, I understand,” said Hector, in a tone of sympathy.
“You now see why I do not dare to leave this position, poor as it is.
For myself, I might take the risk, but I should not feel justified in
exposing my sister to the hazard of possible want.”
“You are right, Mr. Crabb. I am very sorry now that you spoke up for me.
It has prejudiced Mr. Smith against you.”
“No, no; I won’t regret that. Indeed, he would hesitate to turn me
adrift, for he would not be sure of getting another teacher to take my
place for the same beggarly salary.”
“Something may turn up for you yet, Mr. Crabb,” said Hector, hopefully.
“Perhaps so,” answered the usher, but his tone was far from sanguine.
When they returned to the school, Hector carried out a plan which had
suggested itself to him in the interest of Mr. Crabb. He wrote to a boy
of his acquaintance, living in New York, who, he had heard, was in want
of a private tutor, and recommended Mr. Crabb, in strong terms, for that
position. He did this sincerely, for he had found the usher to be a good
teacher, and well versed in the studies preparatory to college. He did
not think it best to mention this to Mr. Crabb, for the answer might be
unfavorable, and then his hopes would have been raised only to be dashed
to the earth.
Later in the day, Hector fell in with Bates, already referred to as a
special friend of Jim Smith. The intimacy, however, had been diminished
since the contest in which Hector gained the victory. Bates was not
quite so subservient to the fallen champion, and Jim resented it.
“I saw you walking out with old Crabb,” said Bates.
“He isn’t particularly old,” said Hector.
“Oh, you know what I mean. Did you ever see such a scarecrow?”
“Do you refer to his dress?” asked Hector.
“Yes; he’ll soon be in rags. I shouldn’t wonder at all if that old suit
of his was worn by one of Noah’s sons in the ark.”
“You don’t suppose he wears it from choice, do you?”
“I don’t know. He’s stingy, I suppose--afraid to spend a cent.”
“You are mistaken. He has a sister to support, and his salary is very
small.”
“I can believe that. Old Sock is mean with his teachers. How much does
he pay Crabb?”
“It is very little, but I don’t know that I ought to tell.”
“I say, though, Roscoe, I wouldn’t go to walk with him again.”
“Why not?”
“The boys will say that, you are trying to get into his good graces, so
he’ll let you off easy in your lessons.”
“I don’t want him to let me off easy; I generally intend to be
prepared.”
“I know, but that’s what they will say.”
“Let them say what they please, and I will do what I please,” said
Hector, independently.
“Old Sock ain’t any too fond of Crabb since he took your part the other
day. Jim says the old man means to bounce him before long.”
“I suppose that means discharge him.”
“It means giving him his walking papers. Jim will see that he does it,
too.”
Hector did not reply, but he felt more than ever glad that he had
written a letter which might possibly bring the poor usher more
profitable and, at the same time, agreeable employment.
“Jim doesn’t like you, either,” added Bates.
“I never supposed he did. I can do without his favor.”
“He will get you into a scrape if he can.”
“I have no doubt whatever of his benevolent intentions toward me. I
shall not let it interfere with my happiness.”
Just then a sharp cry was heard, as of a boy in pain. It came from the
school yard, which the two boys were approaching on their return from a
walk.
“What’s that?” asked Hector, quickly.
“I expect it’s the new boy.”
One had arrived the day before.
“Is he hurt, I wonder?” asked Hector, quickening his steps.
“Jim’s got hold of him, probably,” said Bates; “he said this morning
he was going to give the little chap a lesson to break him into school
ways.”
“He did, did he?” said Hector, compressing his lips. “I shall have
something to say to that,” and he quickened his steps.