Louis' School Days Part 37

"Here'th a nithe one, thir," said Sally, looking in Louis' alarmed face, and pointing to one of the apples.

"They are not yours to give, Sally," said Louis, stepping back against the wall. "Harris, Ca.s.son, Churchill, don't take them--it's dishonest."

Sally protested in great dismay, that it was only one or two, and Dr. Wilkinson wouldn't mind.

"You know he would, Sally, or why did you say I was to hide it?"

said Louis.

"Do you mean to tell him you have given away any?" asked Clifton.

"Not she; she knows better--don't you, Sally?" said Ca.s.son.

"You are not to be trusted," said Clifton.

"Mathter Louis, you won't be going and making mithchief?" said the girl.

"If he does," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Harris, "I'll--"

What he would do Louis never heard, for he had by this time freed himself from the basket and run away, followed more leisurely by Clifton.

"I am sure," he said, when Clifton rejoined him, "that Sally Simmons ought not to be employed here; she is always doing forbidden things for the boys."

"If you know of any thing wrong in her, why don't you tell Dr. Wilkinson?"

said Charles.

"The next thing I know of, I shall. But I should get the boys into such a sc.r.a.pe," said Louis.

"If they are bad boys they deserve it," replied Clifton; "my father says, if we conceal evil, when we may remove it by mentioning it, we make ourselves partners in it."

"The boys would call me a sneak if I did," said Louis.

Charles looked at Louis in simple wonderment. "That wouldn't hinder you from doing what is right, would it? What does it matter what such fellows as those think or say?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't like to get them into a sc.r.a.pe," repeated Louis, uneasily.

"Why don't you tell your friend Hamilton of it, and ask his advice?"

"Oh, Clifton! surely you know that Hamilton won't speak to me."

"No, I didn't," said Clifton, in a tone of surprise. "Why not? he used to be so fond of you."

"He's offended now," replied Louis, looking down.

"He doesn't like me, I know," said Charles; "but he used to be so very fond of you."

"_Used_--that's long ago," said Louis, with a suppressed sigh.

"Well, but," remarked Clifton, without showing the least curiosity to discover the cause of Louis' quarrel with Hamilton, "if you can't consult him, ask your brother."

"I know very well what Reginald would do; he wouldn't think it right to tell of them, or of her either."

"Then, Louis, make up your own mind."

"It's not so easily done," replied Louis; "oh, Charlie, I wish I were like you!"

"Oh, why?" said Charles, gravely; "you have a great many more friends, and are much better liked than I am. I have no friend but you--not that I care at all about it, but I should think you would."

"Yes; but I wish I _could_ make up my mind. I am not half so happy as you are, for I cannot make up my mind to do a thing because it is right. You only think about that and do it at once; and because I have so many friends, and even care about pleasing those I do not like, I am always getting into sc.r.a.pes, and always doing wrong. I think there never was anybody so bad as I am. I wish papa hadn't sent me to school."

"I like you very much," said Clifton; "and I am sure you have done me good--on Sunday, at least."

"Ah, it is much easier to know and talk of what is right than to do it,"

replied Louis, sighing very deeply. "Oh, _domum, dulce domum!_ But there is Reginald, and I must go and ask him a question."

For several days after this occurrence, Louis was too busy, and too much with his brother, to see much of his evil advisers; and very pleased in having, as he imagined, thus got rid of them. The examination was going on in earnest; Louis had now nearly regained his old place, and was, on the whole, favorably reported of: but Clifton was not to be overcome.

Thoroughly prepared, and thoroughly understanding all he had learned, he kept the first place undaunted by any difficulty, and apparently unexcited by the crisis; at least, Louis remarked to Reginald, that Clifton was so cool, he didn't seem to care whether he won or not.

He had a little more color than usual, and the only beauty his face possessed--his intelligent eyes--wore perhaps a keener and more anxious expression, but this was not noticed by a casual observer; nor was the violent palpitation of the heart, when the chances ran so closely between him and the next, at the close of a two days' struggle for the mathematical prize. There were few that congratulated him on his almost unparalleled success; but few that did not respect his ability and steadiness. Never once, from the first day he came to school, had he on any occasion incurred the displeasure of his masters; and yet no one cared for him, for he had lived only for himself.

But to return to Louis. The mathematical contest was finished, and there was a little lull before the second cla.s.s would be again called on, and Louis determined to spend this little interval of leisure in giving a finis.h.i.+ng scrutiny of the history likely to be in demand. Full of his purposes, he burst into the cla.s.s-room, where only Hamilton and Reginald were, the former writing very fast, and the latter looking carefully over an English essay he had just finished. Louis flew to the shelves and ransacked them in vain: almost every book he wanted was gone.

At length, in despair, he asked Reginald if he knew who had Rollin's History. Reginald absently replied in the negative, as he noted down something in the page he was reading.

"The books are always gone," said Louis, pettishly. "I suppose Charlie has it. He had it yesterday--he might as well let me have it to-day."

"Trevannion has it, I think," said Reginald.

"You may have mine," said Hamilton.

Louis stood still; he wanted the book very much, but was too proud to accept the offer.

"It is in my room," continued Hamilton, without looking up.

"Thank you, I don't want _yours_," replied Louis, proudly, walking out of the room.

As he entered the school-room he confronted Dr. Wilkinson, who, having given orders for a brisk walk, was inquiring for Hamilton. Louis had scarcely taken his hand from the lock when Hamilton abruptly opened it and came quickly out of the room.

"You are the person I want," said the doctor, laying his hand on his arm. "Hamilton, I want you to come out with me this bright day."

"To-day, sir?" said Hamilton, whose countenance expressed any thing but delight at the proposition.

"And why put off till to-morrow what may be done to-day so well?"

said the doctor, smiling. "I suppose you have hopes of the weather making a walk impracticable to-morrow: but I must have you all out, or some of you will be laid up before you go home."

His eye fell upon Clifton, who was sitting with his elbows on a desk close by, his fingers pushed through his hair, wholly absorbed in "_Gibbon's Decline and Fall_." Dr. Wilkinson addressed him twice, but, producing no impression, he removed one of the props of his head, and turned his face towards himself.

"What are you doing there?"

"History, sir," said the boy, getting up mechanically, and looking very much as if he were not pleased at the interruption.