Edwin Fuller - Sea-gift

“Wasn’t old Hess mad, though?” says one, whose hand was still red from the ruler.

“She couldn’t get much out of my hand with her old slapjack,” boasts another, rubbing his hands unconsciously on his pants, in striking contradiction of his assertion.

As Frank Paning came out I heard him say:

“But didn’t I get out of it nice?”

“Yes, you sneaked out like a dog,” I replied indignantly. Another chimed in:

“Yes, you did. Ned Cheyleigh’s good game, though. I don’t believe he ever would have told old Hess, if she had beat him till now.”

“Umph!” sneered Frank, “‘twas because he was afraid to tell. He knew some of us would whip him if he did.”

Ned was coming down the steps, the traces of tears still on his cheeks, when he heard Frank’s remarks.

The crimson on his face gave place to the white hue of anger, as he walked up to Frank and said:

“You lie. I dare you to try it.”

Frank looked sheepish, but the boys were all around him, and he felt that he must fight, so, laying down his books, he met Ned.

What a momentous subject of interest is a fight between school boys! A duel between senators excites not more proportionate attention.

These only passed a couple of blows, then clinched and fell, Frank underneath. What digging in the ground with heels and toes! Frank trying to wring his body from under Ned, and Ned trying to hold him down; while the enthusiastic spectators clapped their hands and shouted as the tide of battle wavered:

“Oh my, Ned! Hold him down! Turn him over, Frank! Throw out your leg and push! Jerk his hands up, Ned,” etc., etc.

After several futile struggles Frank gave up, cried “Enough!” and both arose considerably soiled and blown.

I took Ned in charge, and we started home, I brushing the dirt from his clothes, and endeavoring to remove all traces of the conflict.

“Ned,” I said, as we reached Mr. Cheyleigh’s gate, “I am so sorry I got you into this trouble.”

“Oh, never mind that,” he replied cheerfully. “I hated it on account of its being my first, but I wasn’t in fault any way, and I wouldn’t tell her now to save her life.”

Ned was human, and could not but feel anger at his undeserved punishment.

We parted, and I hastened home. Anticipating Miss Hester’s narration of the affair, I gave a faithful account of it; taking care to describe our conduct as “having just locked her out for a little fun,” and descanting, in glowing terms, on her cruelty to Ned. Father’s brow darkened, and he shook his head ominously when I had concluded.

“John,” he said at length, and I knew by his tone that he did not see the joke as I did, “this will not do. You are always getting in some school difficulty. I must look into this affair and learn the true state of the case. Go, get your supper and then go to bed. I will see you in the morning.”

I sullenly went into the dining room and partook of the meal, with gloomy forebodings of the morrow, for I knew, from experience, that the “seeing” in the morning meant something more than vision.

I went to my chamber and got to bed, but not to sleep (for it was too soon for that, and I could still hear out doors the sounds of day life and activity); but to ruminate on the injustice of Miss Hester, father and the world generally. I felt that father should have taken my part and not threatened another punishment, when I had already expiated my fault at Miss Hester’s hands. I took a gloomy delight in forgetting all his kindness, and bringing up to memory all his chastisements and reproofs, and I finally came to the conclusion that I was a poor, persecuted little martyr, that nobody cared for me, and that it would be such a sweet revenge to bundle up all my clothes in a handkerchief and run away. I thought how fine it would be to go far away where no one ever heard of our home, and achieve an immense fortune; and when, at last, everybody thought me dead, and father was sufficiently penitent for his cruelty, to return in a gilded chariot, with several dozen white horses, and riding up before our door in great state, inquire if Col. Smith, the father of an exiled child, lived there. The only obstacle to my fugitive project was the lack of somewhere to run to; and as no suitable place presented itself to my mind, I gave up the scheme for the present, always to be renewed, though, when aggrieved, and always to be as far from execution. I persevered, however, in my misanthropic musings till I had rendered myself thoroughly miserable, when my reverie was broken by the entrance of mother, who came and sat down on the edge of my bed. Taking my hand in her soft palm, she said:

“Tell me all about your difficulty, Johnnie. How did it occur?” Turning my face from the wet, warm pillow up to her’s, I gave a full recital of all, throwing in towards the last a few reflections on father’s harsh treatment, as it appeared to me.

“Hush! hush! Johnnie, you must not speak so. I know it seems hard to you, but it was well calculated to provoke your father. This is the fourth or fifth time you have been punished this session, and he knew it would not do to encourage you in such rebellious conduct.”

I remained silent and grum, and mother continued:

“I know boys think it very manly and brave to be insubordinate at school, and to show all the disrespect they can to the teachers; if they are reproved to reply pertly, and if they are chastised, to bear it without flinching. All these are foolishly considered marks of great spirit. But it is a very mistaken idea. Is it not wrong, culpably wrong, to obstruct and impede the labors of those who are striving to do us good? The very fact of their being compensated renders them responsible to parents and guardians for a more careful instruction of those placed under their charge, and yet you endeavor by every means to prevent the discharge of this responsibility, even though you are to receive the benefit. The teacher’s task is a difficult one any way, and you should strive to lighten the burden, by prompt and ready obedience, instead of scheming to make it heavier. Miss Hester is an old lady, and entitled to our respect from her very age; and then she is alone in the world; she has no one to look to for protection, and makes all her living by her little school. How shameful and sinful, then, to tease and trouble her! No wonder she lost her patience when she found herself locked out of her own house, compelled to stand in the street, a laughing-stock for the passers by. And see, too, another consequence of your fun, as you called it: your little playmate, Ned Cheyleigh, who had the manliness to refuse to join you, is punished equally with the guilty, and has to suffer for your fault. I like fun and innocent mischief myself, but never let it be enjoyed at the expense of another’s feelings.”

Her kind words and manner unnerved me, and the black cloud in my heart poured its rain from my eyes, as I sobbed out:

“I – didn’t – mean – to hurt – her – feelings – , and – I’ll – beg – father’s pardon – and hers – the first – thing – in – the – morning. I told – Ned – how sorry – I was – about – him – this – evening.”

“Well, I hope you will let this prove a lesson to you for the future. It’s getting late; good night.”

As she left the room I turned over on my pillow, took another hearty pull at my tears, and was then at Morpheus’ service.

I rose early next morning, full of good resolutions; and, to put the first in execution, found father, and asked his pardon. He granted it kindly, and said, with a smile:

“I have determined to remove you to the Academy. You are getting almost too large for Miss Hester to manage. I will continue your tuition pay to her for the remainder of the session, as it is our fault that you leave her. You may remain at home to-day, as it is Friday, but on Monday you must commence with Mr. Morris.”