IN THE OFFICE
“Ah, Tucker,” greeted Doctor Collins the next morning. “Sit down,
please.” Toby lowered himself carefully to the edge of a leather-seated
chair at the end of the big flat-topped desk and clutched his cap
desperately. The Principal laid aside the letter he had been reading
and swung around in his chair until he faced the visitor. “How are you
getting on, my boy?” he asked, gravely pleasant.
Toby took courage. Perhaps things weren’t going to be as bad as he had
feared. “All right, sir, thanks,” he answered.
“Having no trouble with your studies?”
“No, sir, not much.”
“Any at all?”
“Why, I don’t get on so well with Latin,” said Toby hesitantly. “But
everything else is all right, I think.”
Doctor Collins picked up a card at his elbow and looked it over. “Your
report for last month is very fair, Tucker,” he said. “There’s nothing
here to indicate any difficulty with Latin.” He looked inquiringly over
the top of the card.
“I――I only meant that sometimes it was very hard to get, sir,” replied
the boy, “but I generally get it.”
“Oh, I see!” The Doctor smiled. “That’s another story. I’m glad you are
getting along as well as you are, Tucker,” he continued more soberly.
“You see, when we award a scholarship to a student we look to him to
prove our judgment correct. We expect him to maintain an excellent
class standing and be very particular as to deportment and always
obedient to the school regulations. We try to have as few regulations
as possible, but of necessity there are some. In short, Tucker, we
expect a scholarship student to set an example to others, an example of
studiousness, earnestness and good behavior. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” murmured Toby.
“Do you go in for athletics any, Tucker?”
“Hockey, sir.”
“Does that take much of your time? More, I mean, than the two hours
which the school expects you to devote to outdoor exercise?”
“N-no, sir, I guess not. Yes, sir, it does, too, because since last
Tuesday I’ve been practicing with Grover Beech for an hour in the
morning.”
“At what time?”
“From eleven to twelve, sir. We neither of us have a recitation then.”
“What time do you get up usually, Tucker?”
“About seven, sir. Sometimes before.”
“And breakfast at about half-past seven?”
“Yes, sir, usually. Sometimes it’s a quarter to eight, if I wait
for――for Deering.”
“Then you’re through by eight-thirty generally? In plenty of time for
chapel?”
“Yes, sir, always.”
“Now tell me what the trouble was on Monday. You missed chapel that
morning, I believe?”
“Yes, sir,” Toby hesitated. “I didn’t know how late――” He paused again
and then added desperately: “I forgot about it, sir.”
“That’s what this report says, Tucker, but I can’t quite understand
how you could forget a thing that happens every morning, as regularly
as breakfast. I see that you missed chapel only once before, early in
October, on which occasion you were excused from attendance. That is
right?”
“Yes, sir, the doctor excused me. I had a sore throat.”
“But nothing of the sort Monday last? It was just forgetfulness,
Tucker?”
“Yes, sir,” muttered Toby.
“I wish you had a better excuse,” said the Doctor, after a moment,
tapping the card against a thumb-nail and studying Toby frowningly.
“Your record is so clean otherwise――” He broke off and tossed the card
on the desk. “Are you forgetful by nature, my boy?”
“No, sir, I――I have a pretty good memory, I guess.”
“Then how do you account for your mental lapse in this case?”
Toby studied his hands for an instant in silence. Then he glanced up
and saw something in the Principal’s face that prompted him to attempt
an explanation. “I guess I’d better try to explain, sir,” he said,
smiling appealingly. The Doctor nodded.
“I think so, too, Tucker. Take your time. What happened, just?”
“After breakfast, sir, I went up to Arnold Deering’s room with him
to tell him something. It was something that had happened to me that
was――pretty nice, and I thought Arn――Deering would be pleased about it.”
“Wasn’t he?” prompted the Doctor when Toby paused.
“Not so much as I thought he would be. You see, sir, we’re――we’re
chums.” The Doctor nodded sympathetically. “Then he said he guessed I
was wrong about――about what I’d told him, and then――then we quarreled!”
“I see. Was that your fault, Tucker?”
“No, sir.”
“Quite sure?”
Toby thought. “Well, I guess it was partly my fault, sir, but he was
awfully unreasonable!”
The Doctor smiled broadly. “And you weren’t, eh?” he inquired.
“Maybe I was, too,” granted Toby, reflecting the smile dimly.
“Well, you quarreled. Then what happened? Did you make up?”
“No, sir, he said I was to go out and not come back until I had
apologized. And so I did. And then I went upstairs to my room
and――and――” Toby faltered.
“Kicked the furniture around?”
“No, sir.” Toby shook his head. “I just――just sat down, I guess, and
then, after awhile, I looked at the clock and it was nearly nine.
And so I came over here and asked to see you and Mr. Thompson said I
couldn’t and I told him. I――I’m very sorry, sir.”
“I see, Tucker.” The Doctor swung away around in his swivel chair and
faced one of the broad windows. When he spoke next his face was away
from Toby and the boy had to listen hard to hear what he said. “I
wonder what your idea of friendship is, my boy. You tell me that you
and this other boy were chums. That means that you were fond of each
other, would make almost any sacrifice for each other. I know something
about friendships between boys. I’ve seen so many of them, Tucker, and
some very beautiful ones. And the beautiful ones have always, I think,
been based on unselfishness. In fact, I doubt if a true friendship can
exist without the constant sacrifice of self. I wish you’d think that
over, Tucker.” The Doctor paused and then swung slowly around again in
his chair. “The momentary satisfaction that one gets from yielding to
one’s temper, Tucker, doesn’t begin to make up for the consequences.
See what has happened in your own case. You have made yourself unhappy
and this other boy, too. Your self-respect has suffered. Later you will
take up your friendship, I hope, and go on with it, but you can’t take
it up just as you left it off, Tucker. There will always be a mended
place in it, my boy, and you know that a mended place is always weak. A
friendship is too fine a thing to take any chances with. One ought to
be as careful with a friendship as one would be with a beautiful piece
of delicate glass.”
The Doctor picked up the card again, looked at it a moment and once
more laid it aside. Then, in more matter-of-fact tones, he went
on: “I’m glad you explained to me, Tucker, for it puts a different
interpretation on your ‘forgetfulness.’ It wasn’t forgetfulness that
caused you to miss chapel, but anger. In so far as I am able to
judge, Tucker, it is that temper of yours that will cause you the
most trouble in life. If I were you I would start out now to learn to
control it, and I wouldn’t stop until I had succeeded. A man without
the capacity for becoming angry is not much use in the world, but a man
who is unable to control his anger is not only useless but positively
dangerous, to himself and the community. Anger controlled is a powerful
weapon in the grasp of a strong man, Tucker, but anger uncontrolled is
like a child’s sword whittled from a lathe and breaks in our hands, and
often wounds us in the breaking. Now I’m going to make a bargain with
you, my boy, subject to your agreement. I’ll write the word ‘excused’
on this card if you will give me your promise to go out from here and
sit down somewhere quite by yourself and think over very carefully what
I have been saying. Will you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Toby subduedly.
“That’s all then, Tucker. I’m not going to make any suggestions as to
the healing of the breach with your chum. Those things have to work
themselves out in their own way. Only remember, my boy, that friendship
and selfishness never mix. Good-morning, Tucker.”
Toby went back to his room and closed the door behind him and kept his
agreement to the letter. That is, he recalled very carefully all that
Doctor Collins had told him and weighed it. And agreed with it, too. As
to that temper of his, thought Toby, the Doctor was absolutely right.
It did need controlling. Normally good tempered, when he did let go
he let go altogether. He could almost count on the fingers of his two
hands the times when he had been thoroughly angry, but each time, as he
recalled, the result had been disastrous. Always he had made himself
unhappy and usually some one else. And always he had been horribly
sorry afterwards, when it was too late. He wondered how one went about
learning to control one’s temper. The Doctor hadn’t told him that.
Well, he would find a way. The Doctor had said he could do it, and so
he would. The Doctor had been mighty nice to him, too; not at all the
stern and severe person that Toby had thought him. He was glad he had
made a clean confession of the whole silly business. For it was silly,
frightfully silly. The idea of quarreling with Arn like that! Why, he
would do just about anything for Arn! And Arn――well, maybe Arn didn’t
care as much as he did, but that had nothing to do with it, because
the Doctor had said that friendship must be unselfish, and demanding
a return for what you gave, even of affection, was selfish! And the
Doctor was right, too, as right as anything! If you――cared for some one
you just naturally wanted to do things for him, and you didn’t stop to
think what you were getting in return. No, sir, you didn’t _care_!
Toby aroused from his communing and looked startledly at the clock.
But it was all right. He still had fourteen minutes before his English
recitation. And fourteen minutes was more than enough to do what
he wanted to do in. He jumped up and found a sheet of paper and an
envelope and wrote hurriedly:
“_Dear Arn_:
“I’m awfully sorry I was such a rotter. I wish you would
forgive me and forget all about it if you can. If you want me
to apologize to F. L. I will. Maybe he didn’t do it, anyway. I
guess he didn’t. Anyhow, I never meant to say anything about it
only I got angry and did say it, for which I am very sorry and
hope you will forgive me.
“Your friend,
“TOBY.”
Toby didn’t knock on Arnold’s door, for he wasn’t sure whether Arnold
was out, and, while he had the courage to write the note, to hand it to
him would be a different matter. So he slipped it under the door and
hurried across to Oxford, feeling much happier than he had felt for
several days.
He caught only a brief glimpse of Arnold that forenoon and when dinner
time came he awaited his chum’s arrival anxiously. He knew Arnold too
well to expect him to fall on his neck, so to speak, but it wouldn’t
be hard to discover whether he was willing to make up. Arnold would
probably say “Hello, T. Tucker,” and grin a little, and that’s all
there’d be to it, and Toby would know that it was all right! But it
didn’t happen that way at all. Arnold came in late, seated himself
without so much as a glance across the table at Toby and entered
into conversation with Kendall. Toby’s heart fell. Arn wasn’t going
to forgive him! Then the comforting thought came to him that perhaps
Arnold hadn’t been to his room yet and so hadn’t read the note. That
was undoubtedly the explanation, and Toby recovered his spirits and ate
a very satisfactory dinner. It was almost as though they were friends
again, for, although Arnold didn’t know it, there was that note
awaiting him upstairs, and when he had read it everything would be fine
once more! So Toby got up from the table quite contentedly and rattled
up two flights of stairs to his room in order to put in a quarter of
an hour at history before a two o’clock recitation. And he whistled
merrily until he threw the door open and saw a square blue-gray
envelope lying there. It was one of Arnold’s envelopes. He had written
instead of――of――Toby picked up the note sadly and went to the window
with it.
“Just being sorry (he read) doesn’t make up for what you
said. You made accusations that you knew were false. When you
acknowledge that they are false I will accept an appology and
not before.
“Respectfully,
“ARNOLD DEERING.”
Toby sighed.
“And he spelled ‘apology’ with two P’s,” he muttered, as though that
was the last straw. “And he’s still angry. Gee, I can’t go and tell him
that I know Frank didn’t swipe that money, because I know he _did_.
I suppose I might tell a lie about it, though. I wish――I wish Frank
would choke!” He slipped the note back into the envelope, thrust it
impatiently into the drawer and closed the drawer with a vindictive
_bang_. “All right, then, he can stay mad. I’m not going to say what
isn’t so for him or any one else. ‘Just being sorry doesn’t make up for
it!’ I’d like to know what else you can be but sorry. If he thinks it’s
so easy to――to be sorry――I mean say you’re sorry and apologize, then
why doesn’t he do a little of it? He makes me tired! I don’t care a fig
whether――”
Toby paused right there in his muttering, swallowed hard and looked
sheepish.
“Gee,” he thought, “I nearly did it again! I’m glad Doctor Collins
didn’t hear me! I guess the hard thing about controlling your temper is
to know when you’re not!” With which cryptic reflection Toby made his
way sadly downstairs just as the two o’clock bell began to ring.