I most heartily wish that I could go on with this tale without
recording any further lapses on the part of its alleged hero, but I
can't. The facts in the case will not warrant such a continuation.
Nor do I admit that it was "Dodd's" Methodist blood that occasioned
these fallings from grace. I have known men, women and boys, and whole
herds of other people besides, even those who were firm believers in
the tenet "Once in grace, always in grace," who yet had their
"infirmities" about them, and whose feet still clung to the miry clay,
though they did think their heads were in heavenly places!
On the whole, after observing human nature pretty closely for some
time, even till gray hairs are with me to stay, I am inclined to
believe, with Mr. Emerson, that "Virtue itself is apt to be occasional,
spotty, and not always the same clear through the piece." This may be
another case where facts do not tally with logical conclusions based
upon dogmatic theological reasoning. Yet if the fact is thus, my dear
reader, you need not be alarmed, so far as you are concerned. Ask
yourself if it isn't true, in your case, at least, that you have
slipped down from the lofty places of your desire and aspiration many a
time, even when you have done your best to keep in your high estate.
Human nature! That is the key to this condition. How to handle this
unstable quantity so as to keep it up continually, this is a problem
for the ages.
So "Dodd" slipped again, just as such boys are continually apt to do,
and Mr. Bright bore with him patiently, and "worked him," as a wise
teacher can and will.
The machine cannot and will not bear with boys and "work them." It
"suspends" them and "expels" them.
The "Other-Fellow" held "Dodd" to his work for days and weeks, but,
finally, even this power lost its grip, for a time.
It happened--as such things usually do, when the teacher is doubly
busy--that "Dodd" began whittling a stick at his desk and covering the
floor all about with the litter, in a most shameful and slovenly
manner. Mr. Bright discovered the fact just as he was in the midst of
a class exercise in which twenty pupils were taking part, all being at
the board at the same time and working together under pressure of his
rapid dictation. He had no time to stop then and there to put a pupil
into order. He was flushed and excited with his class work, holding
his boys and girls up to the vigorous drill he was giving them, and he
scarcely paused to say to "Dodd":
"Put up that knife and go to work!"
He did not wait to see it he was obeyed. He had not time.
The next act of "Dodd's" that he was conscious of was his opening the
door to leave the room. He saw at once that this move was made simply
to kill time, and to get rid of study, and as "Dodd" was in the very
act of closing the door behind him, Mr. Bright called out to him:
"Come back and take your seat!"
But "Dodd's" only answer was to slam the door as hard as he could and
dash down stairs, three steps at a jump.
Mr. Bright rushed out after him at the top of his speed. In his haste
to make time, and catch the fugitive, if possible, he revived a custom
of his youth and slid down the banister, making the time of an arrow in
his descent.
Then he ran out of the hall, in still further pursuit.
But he was too late. He ran around the house, but at the corner he
lost the trail, and though he circled the building three times, and
listened, and dodged back and forth, to surprise "Dodd" if possible, he
could get no clue to his whereabouts. He went into the cellar and
looked all about, peering into the furnace-room and coal-bin, but
nowhere could he find the crafty object of his search. Finally he gave
up and returned to the school room. He came in out of breath and
perspiring, and met the inquiring eyes of his pupils as he went back to
his desk.
"I could not find him," he said to the school, wiping his dripping face
with his handkerchief. Then he turned to the class on duty and resumed
the exercise he had broken off so abruptly.
I do not know what would have happened if Mr. Bright and "Dodd" had met
in the heat of this encounter. It is useless to speculate on what
would have occurred. Some of the boys, waiting in the room they had
just left, offered to bet two to one on the master if it came to
business. And, indeed, there were no takers at that, for Mr. Bright
had a prowess which would have stood him well in stead if he had had
occasion to use it. But he did not. I am glad that he did not.
Because, it is at such times as this that men get beside themselves,
and are apt to do desperate things. I have known men who had to go
behind bars and stay there for many years because they did meet the man
they were after, under much such circumstances as I have just detailed.
I remarked a few paragraphs above something about virtue being
"occasional," and we have all need to pray, "Lead us not into
temptation, but deliver us from evil."
But Fate, or Foreordination, or Good Fortune, or Destiny, or
Providence, or Luck, whichever one of these presided on this
occasion,--suit yourselves as to this, O infidel or orthodox!
capitalize them all, since some of you will have it so--elected that
these two people should not meet till they had both cooled off a
little. I hope these same powers may be as kind to you if you ever
have a like need of their good offices. Many a man has been made or
broken by the smile or frown of one of these deities which are so
entirely beyond our control, and which still make so important a part
of our lives. I state facts again, without further moralizing.
Indeed, I could not moralize on this theme if I tried. I don't know
any one who can, though the world is full of people who constantly try
to. They all fail. The mystery is as great now as it was in the days
when Eve happened to walk up to the tree where the serpent and the
apples happened to be together. One should take off his hat when he
speaks seriously of these things. They are stupendous!
Nor should you blame Mr. Bright too much for doing as he did. Hear the
story out before you pass judgment. He was only a man. You are under
the same condemnation, my self-contained critic!
I will admit without argument, however, that the machine would never
have slid down a banister in pursuit of a fleeing pupil. Never! It
never concerns itself enough about the doings of any individual pupil
to follow him an inch for any cause whatever. The machine would have
sat still and let the boy run. Then it would have suspended him the
next morning and expelled him a few days later. The machine always has
regular ways of doing things. It has all the rules for its movements
set down in a book.
But Mr. Bright was very anxious about "Dodd" Weaver. When he came to
reflect, he was glad that he had not met him while in pursuit of him.
Yet the question remained, what should be done when they did meet? He
thought about this, deep down in his soul, all the rest of the morning.
When noon came he was as much as ever at a loss how to proceed. One of
the worst features of the case, as he thought about it, was this:
"Dodd" had been going to school to him now a year and a half, and he
had begun to think that he had a permanent hold upon the boy. But here
it was again, back in the same old notch, and as bad as ever. It does
take so long to make anything permanent in the way of character! You
have found it so yourself, haven't you, beloved? In your own case, I
mean.
But on his way home to dinner Mr. Bright saw Mrs. Weaver out in the
yard, and remembering how much a mother may sometimes do for her son,
he went over and took her into counsel on the case. The machine would
not have done this either.
It is a rule of the mill not to consult with parents. If parents wish
consultation, let them talk to a stack of examination papers, or a
record-book. This will soon cure them of their desire to consult.
Mrs. Weaver heard Mr. Bright's statement with tear-filled eyes. She
had seen "Dodd" improve in every line of his life, for some months, and
had begun to form bright plans for the future of her redeemed
first-born. But, alas! here seemed to be the end of all her hopes.
However, she tried to apologize for her son, and, in any event, she
begged Mr. Bright not to give "Dodd" up yet. But the master shook his
head gravely.
"And another thing," pursued Mrs. Weaver, "I think it will be best not
to let 'Dodd's' father know anything about this. He is such a
passionate man that I am sure he would fly into a rage and attempt to
beat the boy if he should find it out. And he and 'Dodd' are so much
alike! If they should get into a quarrel, I fear that one might kill
the other before they could be parted."
Yet these persons were father and son, and one of them was a successful
minister and a devout man--most of the time,
"You see," Mrs. Weaver continued, "that my husband has such a high
opinion of you as a man, and he knows that you have done so much for
'Dodd,' that if he should find out how abominably the boy has treated
you, he would be ten times more angry than ever. So let us keep the
matter to ourselves, if possible. I will see 'Dodd' as soon as he
comes home, and will try what I can do. And if prayer, or--"
"There, there," broke in Mr. Bright, quietly, as the brimming eyes of
the woman before him began to overflow, "do what you can with the boy,
and I will not give him up till I have to;" and so saying, he went on
to dinner.
But in a country town news travels fast. As soon as school was out at
noon, three-score tongues were busy retailing the mild scandal to
attentive listeners, whenever met.
Parson Weaver sat in the postoffice, reading a "daily" that had just
arrived, when a boy came in, and not noticing the Elder, began to tell
the tale to the knot of men who stood about. They heard the story
through, with many "I-told-you-so" nods, and then, one by one, slipped
out of the office. Last of all Parson Weaver went also.
He went straight to Mr. Bright's house and pulled the door bell
impetuously.
The teacher admitted him, and began immediately to try to soothe the
infuriated feelings of the parson, who was really very angry.
"I hope the matter may come out all right," said the teacher, "for I
trust that 'Dodd' will see things as they are, when he comes to
himself."
"Tell me just what happened," said the parson, with a kind of
desperation.
Mr. Bright carefully went over the particulars. When he had finished,
he added:
"I shall be very grateful to you for anything you can do to help us all
out of this dilemma and get 'Dodd' on his feet again. For what we must
do, in any event, is to save the boy."
"I shall do all in my power," returned Mr. Weaver, "but I thought he
was doing so well with you, and now he is all at sea again," and with a
groan he left the house.
Mr. Bright sat down to dinner and ate a few hurried mouthfuls.
He had just risen from his slight repast, when a twin Weaver burst into
the room and shouted out:
"Pap wants you to come over to the house as quick as you kin," and
having thus said, he turned and ran.
Mr. Bright remembered the words of "Dodd's" mother, and he feared that
father and son had closed in deadly conflict. He hurried down the
street, and made all haste toward the parsonage.