Edwin Fuller - Sea-gift

As the days wore on I had time to form intimacies, and I found one friend in the school whom I could “grapple unto my soul with hooks of steel.”

Between Edward Cheyleigh and myself there sprang up the most lasting friendship. He was the most noble hearted boy I ever knew. Manly and firm to the last degree, yet gentle and soft as a girl in his manners; full of life and gaiety, yet no amount of persuasion could make him yield his consent to what he thought was wrong. He was, in consequence, rather unpopular with the scholars, and I have often seen his face flush at a sneer about his being the favorite, after a refusal to join in some plan to worry Miss Hester. I used to admire his firmness and moral courage, and long to imitate his example, but I was too much afraid of the ridicule of the school, and I would often forfeit Ned’s approval rather than face the jeers of so many.

As the session passed on I lost all my reserve, and, with the absence of embarrassment, came my love for fun. I was soon up to all the tricks of school, and an expert in their performance. I was perfect in the art of chewing and shooting paper, and William Tell took no more pride in his apple feat than did I in the accuracy with which I could plant a two inch pulp in a boy’s forehead across the room, and never attract a glance from Miss Hester. I could gauge a pin to the exact desideratum of pain, as I inserted it just above my neighbor’s point of contact with the bench. I could stand up and call out, “M’ I g’ out?” as loudly as the boldest, or assume, with perfect ease, the don’t care expression and slinging gait, after a mortifying attempt at recitation. These accomplishments were only acquired after months of timidity and practice, but by degrees I became a ringleader in all the mischief, and many were the difficulties I became involved in. Frank Paning always joined us in our schemes, but somehow generally managed to escape the punishment that fell on the rest of us.

One day Miss Hester was later coming than usual. We had all assembled, and waited patiently for her some time, when Frank suddenly proposed that we bar her out, and make her give us holiday. His proposition was agreed to by several, of which I was the first; while all the girls, and two or three of the very small boys, went outside to wait for her. We commenced our operations with vigor, piling up chairs, tables, and Miss Hester’s desk, against the door, in our haste turning the ink over the copy books and papers, and scattering the pens and rulers generally. As we concluded our arrangements, we observed Ned still inside, sitting quietly at his usual corner.

“Why, hallo, Ned!” said Frank, “I thought you were outside with the other girls. Why don’t you go?”

“Because I don’t wish to,” Ned replied, quietly, rubbing out one figure on his slate with a wet forefinger and putting down another.

“But you won’t tell on us, will you?” asks a timid one.

“I shall not tell on any one, as it is none of my business;” and Ned bent over his slate as if that was all he had to say.

“All right! here she comes ’round the corner,” exclaimed two or three excited ones, peeping through a crevice in the window. “Wonder what the old lady will do?”

Sure enough Miss Hester was coming, walking with all the majesty of a teacher, and carrying demoralization to our garrison by her very presence. As she came up we could hear a chorus of shrill voices crying:

“Lor! Miss Hester, what do you think? the boys have locked us and you out, and say they won’t let us in till you promise to give ’em holiday.”

She did not reply, but we heard her come up the steps, and shake the door two or three times. Finding it barred, there was an ominous silence of a minute or two, then another more violent shake. The more timorous of our number now wished to open the door, and surrender unconditionally; but Frank and I, by dint of hard persuasion, and by representing to them that this course would not palliate their sin, induced them to hold out. She left the house, and went off, walking rapidly. The advocates of surrender now gained strength, but we argued and plead them into a little more obduracy. Before our council of war had ended Miss Hester returned with a carpenter, and we felt that the battle was hers. We got our books, took our seats, and watched, with anxious eyes, the door, as it creaked and strained with every blow. A moment more and it flew open, scattering our barricade in every direction, and Miss Hester marched in victorious. Having dismissed the carpenter, and put things to rights, she turned her attention to the perpetrators of the deed. We saw, from the miniature thunder cloud that had gathered between her brows, that there was no hope for mercy, so we prepared to meet our fate resignedly. Calling us all up in a row, she began at the top of the roll:

“Eliza Atly, were you inside or outside?”

Miss Eliza Atly, the freckled girl, with corner-drawn eyes, is delighted to testify that she was outside.

“Abram Barn, outside or inside?”

Abram Barn, the small, fat boy, with puffy cheeks and dry tow hair, bubbles out his answer as if it were liquid:

“Out chide, m’m!”

“Edward Cheyleigh?”

“Inside, ma’am.”

“Edward! I am surprised at that. Did you bar the door against me?”

“No, madam.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do, but I cannot tell.”

Miss Hester’s face flushed, as she said, sternly:

“Those who conceal are as guilty as those who commit.”

She proceeded down the roll, receiving confessions from some, and denials from others, till she came to Frank’s name.

“Frank Paning,” she said, with her darkest frown, “did you bar my door?”

“No, madam, I did not.”

He had been nailing down the windows while we were barring the door.

“Did you see who did it?”

“I did not see any one do it. When I looked the door was all barred up tight.”

Every one looked at him in amazement, but he replied by a smirk of conceit at his success.

“John Smith, did you help to keep me out?” thundered Miss Hester, her patience all gone.

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“That will do; you can all take your seats.”

My name completed the roll, and she laid aside the book, and took up the rod. After some remarks on the enormity of our offence, and the surprise she felt that some of her best scholars should have countenanced it, and that it was her unpleasant duty to punish all concerned, she proceeded to call up the offenders in order.

“Edward Cheyleigh, come here, sir. I regret very much the necessity of punishing you, as it is the first time, and I have never before even reproved you; but the offence is very grievous, and as you know who did it, and won’t tell, you are accessory to the deed. Hold out your hand!”

I could stand it no longer, as Ned, with his face crimson from mortification, yet his head erect with conscious innocence, held out his hand for the undeserved blows, but springing from my seat, I cried:

“Miss Hester, Ned had nothing to do with it. We all begged him to join us, but he wouldn’t; and if you are going to whip him, let me take his share.”

“Stand back, sir,” she said sternly, “your time will come soon enough. Your hand, Edward.”

He extended each palm, and received the cutting blows without a quiver, then turned to his seat. As he sat down his fortitude gave way, and, burying his face in his hands, he burst into sobbing.

My time came last, but so much did I feel for Ned that I scarce heeded the stinging ferule. Miss Hester, after some further remarks, dismissed us for the evening. As we poured from the door, the occasion furnished food for more chattering than a cargo of magpies could have made.