For a day or two after the terrible collapse of the Indian theory Paul
Grayson kept himself aloof from the other boys to such an extent that he
made them feel very uncomfortable. Benny, in particular, was made most
miserable by such treatment from Paul, for Benny was not happy unless he
could talk a great deal, and as he could not even be near the other boys
without being reproached for his untruthful Indian story, the coolness
of Paul reduced him to the necessity of doing all his talking at home,
where he really could not spend time enough to tell all that was on his
mind.
Besides, there were several darling topics on which Benny's mother and
sister, although they loved the boy dearly, never would exhibit any
interest. Benny had lately learned, after months of wearisome practice
in Sam Wardwell's barn, that peculiar gymnastic somersault known and
highly esteemed among boys of a certain age as "skinning the cat," and
he was dying to have some one see him do it, and praise him for his
skill. But when he proposed to do it in the house, from the top of one
of the door frames, his mother called him inhuman, and his sister said
he was disgusting, the instant they heard the name of the trick; and
although Benny finally made them understand that cats had really nothing
to do with the trick, and that if he should ever want the skin taken off
a real cat he would not do the work himself, not even for the best
fishing-rod in town, he was still as far from succeeding as ever, for
when he afterward explained just what the trick consisted in, his mother
told him that he was her only boy, and while she liked to see him amuse
himself, she never would consent to stand still, and look at him while
he was attempting to break his blessed little neck.
And how unsatisfactory his sister was when consulted about fish bait! In
marbles she had been known to exhibit some interest, but a boy could not
always talk about marbles. When Benny explained how different kinds of
live bait kicked while on the hook, and asked her to think of some new
kind of bug or insect that he could try on the big trout that had
learned to escape trouble by letting alone the insects already used to
hide hooks with, she told him that she didn't know anything about it,
and, what was more, she didn't care to, and she didn't think her brother
was a very nice boy to care for such dirty things himself.
The change in the relations of the boys with Paul did not escape Mr.
Morton's eyes; and when he questioned his newest pupil, and learned the
cause, he made an excuse to send Paul home for something, and then told
the boys that to pry into the affairs of other people was most
unmannerly, and that he thought Paul had been too good a fellow to
deserve such treatment at the hands of his companions. The boys admitted
to themselves that they thought so too; and when next they were
out-of-doors together most of them agreed with each other that there
should be no more questioning of Paul Grayson about himself. Still, Sam
Wardwell correctly expressed the sentiment of the entire school when he
said he hoped that Paul would soon think to tell without being asked,
because it was certain that there was something wonderful about him;
boys were not usually as cool, strong, good-natured, fearless, and
sensible as he.
Pleasant relations were soon restored between the boys, but there was
not as much playing in the school-yard as before, for the weather had
become very hot; so the usual diversion of the boys was to sit in a row
on the lower rail of the shady side of the school-yard fence, and tell
stories, or agree upon what to do when the evening became cooler. Paul
Grayson occasionally begged for a game of ball; he could not bear to be
so lazy, he said, even if the sun did shine hotly. But the boys could
seldom agree with him to the extent of playing on the shadeless
ball-ground; so after dismissal in the afternoon Paul used to go alone
to the ball-ground behind the court-house, and practice running,
hopping, jumping, and tossing a heavy stone, until some of the boys, not
having promised to abstain from talking with each other about Paul,
wondered if their mysterious friend might not be the son of some great
clown, or circus rider, or trapeze performer, or something of the sort.
Paul's exercises seemed to give a great deal of entertainment to the
prisoners in the jail, for some of them were always at the large barred
window, and the counterfeiter was sure to be at the small one the moment
he heard Paul come whistling by; and well he might, for that cell,
lighted only by a single very small window, must have been a dismal
place to spend whole days in.
From occasionally looking at the prisoners from the play-ground Paul
finally came to stare at them for several minutes at a time. The other
boys could not see what there could be about such a lot of bad men to
interest a fine fellow like Paul; but Canning Forbes explained that
perhaps the spectacle would be interesting to them too if they were
strangers, and had not seen the prisoners in every-day life, and known
what a common, stupid, uninteresting set they were. All of the boys,
Canning reminded them, had been full of curiosity about the
counterfeiter when he had first been put into the jail; that, he
explained, was because the man was a stranger, and no one of them knew a
thing about him. Paul was in exactly the same condition about the other
prisoners, and the counterfeiter too.
The explanation was satisfactory, but Paul's interest in the prisoners
was not, for all the time he spent staring at the side of the jail might
otherwise have been spent with them, all of whom, excepting perhaps Joe
Appleby, felt that they never could see enough of Paul. Some of them
were shrewd enough to reason that if Paul could be made to understand
what a miserable set those jail-birds really were, he would soon cease
to have any interest in them; so they made various excuses to talk about
the prisoners by name, and tell what mean and dishonest and disgraceful
things they did.
But somehow the scheme did not work; Paul himself talked about the
prisoners, and he reminded the boys that some of those men had wives who
were being unhappy about them; and others, particularly the younger
ones, were keeping loving mothers in misery; and perhaps some of them
had children that were suffering, even starving, because their fathers
were in jail. How could any fellow help being curious about men, asked
Paul, whose condition put such stories into a man's mind?
"Perhaps, too," Paul argued, "some of those men are not as bad as they
seem. Every man has a little good of some sort in him; and although he
is to blame for not letting it, instead of his wrong thoughts, manage
him, perhaps some day he may change. I can't help wishing so about all
of those fellows in the jail, and, what is more, I wouldn't help it if I
could--would you?"
No, they wouldn't, the boys thought; still, they thought also, although
no one felt exactly like saying it aloud, that boys at Mr. Morton's
school had some good in them, and were a great deal surer to appreciate
the thoughtful tendencies of a good fellow than a lot of worthless town
loafers were, to say nothing of a dreadful counterfeiter.
"If you feel that way," said Joe Appleby, somewhat sneeringly, after the
crowd had been silent for two or three moments, "why don't you go with
Mr. Morton when he visits the prisoners? I would do it if I felt as you
do; I would think it very wrong to stay away."
Joe's tone, as he said this, was so absolutely taunting that most of the
boys expected to see Paul spring at him and strike him; they certainly
would do so themselves, if big enough, and talked to in that way. But
Paul merely replied, "I don't go, because he never asked me to."
"Oh, don't let that stand in your way," said Joe, quickly; "you can
easily do the asking yourself. I'll ask for you, if you feel delicate
about putting in your own word."
At this the boys felt sure there would be a fight, but to their great
surprise Paul sat quietly on the rail, and replied, "I should be much
obliged if you would; that is, if you're man enough to own that you
first taunted me about it."
Joe arose, and looked as proud as if he were about to lead a whole army
to certain victory.
"I'll do it," said he, "and right away, too."
"And I," said Canning Forbes, "will go along to see that you tell the
story correctly, and do full justice to Grayson."
Joe scowled terribly at this, but Canning, although a very quiet fellow,
had such a determined way in everything he undertook, that Joe knew it
was useless to remonstrate, so he strode sullenly along, with Canning at
his side. The other boys looked for a moment in utter astonishment;
then, as with one accord, all but Paul sprang to their feet and
followed.
Mr. Morton was astonished at the irruption, as his bell had not been
sounded; but he listened to Joe's request and to Canning's statement,
which was supported by fragments volunteered by other boys, then he
replied, "I will gladly take Paul with me, but am sorry that the newest
pupil in the school should be the first to express a kind thought about
the unfortunates in the jail."
Then Joe Appleby hung his head, and Canning Forbes did likewise, and
most of the other boys followed their example; but Benny rushed to the
side window, thrust his head out, and shouted, "It's all right, Paul; he
says you can go."
Then all the boys laughed at Benny, at which Benny blushed, and the
teacher rang his bell, which called in no one but Paul. Then the school
came to order, but most of the boys blundered over their lessons that
afternoon, for their minds were full of what they had to tell to boys
that attended other schools, or did not go to school at all.
The visit of Paul to the prison was made that very afternoon, and before
night nearly every family in the town had heard of how it had come to
pass, and determined that Paul Grayson was a noble fellow, no matter how
much mystery there might be about him. Benny Mallow, having learned in
advance that the visit was contemplated--for Paul could not get rid of
him after school except by telling him--Benny waited on a corner near
the jail until Paul and the teacher came out. He hid himself for a
moment or two, so that Paul would not think he had been watching him;
then he hurried around a block, intercepted the couple, and made some
excuse to stop Paul for a moment. As soon as Mr. Morton had gone ahead a
little way, Benny, with his great blue eyes wider open than ever, asked,
"How was it?"
[Illustration: PAUL GRAYSON AND BENNY MALLOW.]
"It was dreadful," said Paul, whose eyes were red, as if he had been
crying.
"Then you won't ever go again, will you?" said Benny, giving his
friend's hand a sympathetic squeeze.
"Yes, I will," exclaimed Paul, so sharply that Benny was frightened. He
looked up inquiringly, and saw Paul's eyes filled with tears. "I'll go
again, and often, now that I've been teased into doing it; but, Benny
Mallow, if you tell a single boy that I cried, I'll never speak to you
again in this world."
"I won't--oh, I won't," said Benny, and he kept his word--for weeks.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]