Now that Hal had sent in his essay he felt weary, for the excitement of
composition and of haste had ceased; and he tormented himself, too, by
recalling sentence after sentence which he wished he could remodel. Also
memory brought back his past failures; he had not succeeded as chemist
or carpenter and all the boys knew it. What would they say when his name
would be posted on the bulletin, down town, as a Rejected Essayist?
Presently too, it was announced that the bestowal of the Old South
Prizes must be deferred as an unexpectedly large number of essays had
been presented! Hal whistled, shrugged his shoulders, refused to endure
the suspense, cast aside his interest in the matter, and resolved to
settle down into an office-boy.
He cleaned the office more vigorously than ever, and as he began a
catalogue of his employer's library, there arose the faint glimpse of a
new hope, in the thought that his present pursuit might eventuate in his
being a lawyer. But with it there came a hot flush of shame as he
remembered his many visions of the future; and to get rid of them he
would run to the bank on an errand with such fury that his haste
suggested a panic. But in spite of all his changes of intention he was
growing manly; making character, developing mental fibre and muscle; his
mother trusted him with her hopes and fears, and his father talked to
him with a respect that was very consoling to his wounded spirit. Also
the boys ceased to come for him in the evening; if they met him on the
street, they called him "a dig" and asked him what new hobby made him so
serious.
Some months had thus passed, when one day, Hal, who had almost forgotten
his history in his law, thought Mr. Bryce's whistle for him had a
peculiar sound. "Get your hat," said the lawyer, "and follow me. I want
you to go to the Court House."
Hal's active imagination instantly saw himself seated there as Judge.
Yes, law was his vocation. But when there, he was almost pushed into a
corner, while Mr. Bryce pointed him out to the clerk of the court. This
rather frightened Hal, but he felt reassured at the command to stay
where he was until the clerk should bid him go for Mr. Bryce, for the
latter could not afford to spend the morning in court waiting for his
case to come up.
It was a new world to Hal and his astonishment and interest was
increased as he recognized an old playmate in the one who was being
examined. An officer had removed the boy's jacket and was calling the
attention of the Judge to long, deep welts on the boy's back, the result
of lashes inflicted by his father, because his son earned but little.
The contents of a dirty paper-bag were also exhibited, as being the only
dinner allowed the boy, who, with his mouldy crust, walked three miles
each day to the shop where he worked. That very morning he had been so
dull, that some one, suspecting the truth, had told "the boss" of his
condition, and through an officer of the "Society for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Children," his case had been brought into court.
Poor Hal! perhaps he was born to be a philanthropist after all. He
resolved to interest himself in the S. P. C. C. Visions of "cases"
hunted out and brought before the officers, thrilled his soul. How he
ached for this particular boy! and how he contrived to make that boy
feel he was there and to tuck some lozenges into his hand, as his former
companion passed by him under the kind guardianship of the Secretary of
the Society; and then the clerk ordered him to find Mr. Bryce.
The next day, when he was summoned to Mr. Bryce's inner office, from
dreams of himself as the eminent legal adviser and prosecutor for the S.
P. C. C., that gentleman asked him rather quizzically how he liked
"court business." Hal replied that he did not know surely, but guessed
he might come to prefer it to office work and cataloguing.
"Well," said Mr. Bryce, "I am rather sorry to hear that, for I had
thought of raising your wages. However, I am doubtful about employing
essayists as office-boys. It might work badly."
"Has it, sir?" he asked; then in an embarrassed manner, "I am not
certain what you mean."
The lawyer made no reply, and Hal turned away crestfallen.
"O come back here, boy," called out Mr. Bryce then. "And by the way, can
you tell me who is Nisus Sum?"
Harry wriggled with conflicting sensations until he could scarcely
stand. At last he burst out: "What is that to you?"
"O not much!" replied Mr. Bryce, with an amused look, "only I hold an
essay to return to him."
Hal grew so white that his employer pitied him, and forebore.
"You did not know I was chairman of the committee on the Old South
Prizes, did you?" he added in a different tone.
"No, sir, I did not;" exclaimed Hal, flushing to his very temples.
"And I did not know that you were 'Nisus Sum' until ten minutes ago."
"Well, this may be fun to you, sir, but it isn't to me," said Hal,
almost with a sob.
"Look here, my boy, listen. You knew Mr. Akers died; well, he was one
of the judges, and I was asked to take his place, and I consented,
because I saw that I had an office-boy who would attend to his work."
Hal put his hand out vaguely towards the table as if to lean on it for
support. Mr. Bryce's tone involuntarily softened as he continued: "I
have been comparing the estimates sent in by the other judges, and I see
that we agree that the first prize for 'Colonial Policy' is taken by
'Nisus Sum.'"
"'Nisus Sum,'" said the boy dreamily, "first prize." Then suddenly, as
if beside himself, he twirled Mr. Bryce's chair round and round with the
poor man in it until the lawyer had to exert his strength to stop him.
"That'll do," exclaimed he. "Don't get frantic, but it was really very
risky for you to try to do my work and yours too. There was danger of
doing neither satisfactorily."
"Did I neglect anything, sir? you know I didn't. I began to read up for
the essay before father was taken sick, and then when that came, I was
bound I would do something at last."
"Well, well, you succeeded, didn't you? Go home now and tell them; only,
remember this," and Mr. Bryce grew stern, "don't think because you have
succeeded now that you always are to win. Stick to your daily work. Be a
good clerk first, that you may be a good historian later."
"Trust me," said Hal gravely, who felt the awe of success stealing over
him. He felt queer, yet happy and humble; and bowing low, he left the
room. It took but a few moments for him to rush home; and if his father
had not gained in strength he certainly would have suffered, for Hal
bounded into the room, upsetting the chairs and a table and spinning his
mother round in circles somewhat as he had treated Mr. Bryce, he
exclaimed:
"I have won! I have won! first prize! Now you can be sick, father, as
long as you please."
Then followed explanation and a quiet talk which made Harry always look
back upon that evening as the happiest one of his boyhood.
It only remains to add that he was as good as his word; he was an able
clerk first, and an historian only as a middle-aged man.