Untitled

Ward's face flushed with pleasure, for he felt that praise from Mr. Crane was praise indeed.

"I'm not done yet," resumed Mr. Crane quietly. "Then, if I were that boy, I think I should begin to question myself and see if there was any just cause for the school being down upon me. It may have been that that boy was somewhat conceited, and a little selfish. He was all the time perhaps thinking how the school ought to appreciate everything he did, and he did not have quite the necessary courage to face calmly the results of his own misdeeds."

"But, Mr. Crane," protested Ward, "the fellow knew he'd done wrong. He wasn't trying to crawl."

"Perhaps so, but it is also possible that he thought he ought to be praised unduly for simply turning about and doing his duty. In the main, Hill, boys are just; and while doubtless injustice creeps in at times, it is still true that if a fellow has trouble, he ought not only to think of that, but of what he may be doing to bring it upon himself."

"Then you think the boy ought to keep still and let his room be stacked every day, do you?"

"Not at all; I want him to cure that in the right way, but I want him also to think not only of the stacking, but of the reason for its being stacked."

"It was stacked because he broke with the fellows he'd been going with," said Ward bitterly.

"In part, yes; but in part, no. Think it over, Hill, and come and see me again in a week."

"Good-night, Mr. Crane," said Ward somewhat abruptly, as he left the room.

He felt hurt and humiliated. Somehow he had thought Mr. Crane would speak very differently. Was that to be the reward for trying to do better? It seemed to him that he had been abused and misunderstood, and in no very amiable frame of mind Ward walked back to West Hall.

CHAPTER XIII

A FAITHFUL FRIEND

For two days Ward Hill continued in no enviable frame of mind. He felt hurt and humiliated by the words of Mr. Crane, and also felt that he had been hard and somewhat unjust in his judgment.

It was true that he had not referred to the disturbance in Ripley's room, but to Ward that seemed a trifling matter now. The struggle through which he was passing was uppermost in his thoughts, and before that, all else seemed insignificant and small.

And to Ward Hill it was a struggle of no small character. The stand which near the close of the preceding year he had taken for Henry had brought upon him the enmity of his former associates, and they had succeeded not only in annoying him themselves, but also in creating a prejudice against him in the school.

Henry, it was true, remained his true friend, but he was a boy who was never demonstrative, and Ward somehow felt the need of continued praise. In this particular he did not differ from other sensitive and bright lads; but in his own home and in the little village of Rockford, he had been so looked up to by all his associates that he had come to regard such feelings toward him as but his just and natural right.

Jack Hobart's good will he highly prized and also prized more than he himself was aware all the good-natured references to the possibilities of his becoming the valedictorian of the class; but Ward Hill, like many another when he finds himself beset with perplexities and difficulties, was more prone to dwell upon his lacks than upon his possessions, and consequently he was thinking much more of the words of implied blame which Mr. Crane had spoken, than he was of the encouragement and appreciation he had received.

And it was just because Mr. Crane thoroughly understood Ward that he had spoken as he did at the time of Ward's indirect statement. He had understood clearly that in the case which Ward had stated, he was speaking of himself. The disguise was very thin, and the teacher had listened attentively and with a full sense of what it all meant to the eager, impulsive boy.

But he had also seen, what Ward himself had failed to see, that as yet he had not faced his situation with the true spirit. It was his vanity which was suffering more than his sense of justice and right. Eager for the praise of the boys and his teachers, he had not as yet come to perceive that there was something deeper, stronger, better. It was with no lack of appreciation of the efforts Ward certainly was making to do better work in his classes and to cut himself loose from the more disorderly elements of the Weston school, that Mr. Crane had spoken, but because he clearly perceived that as yet the troubled boy was governed only by his feelings, and that deep down below all his desires to improve there lay a motive which must be purified before anything like a radical or permanent change in his life could be produced.

He had not failed to notice the pain his words produced, but as we are informed that "faithful are the wounds of a friend," he had resolved for the sake of the boy, whom he sincerely loved and whose brightness he was in no wise backward in acknowledging, that what he needed most was not praise and sympathy, but frankness and a true picture of himself.

Not the least of Ward's troubles arose from the fact that in his own heart there was a perception of the fact that the basis of all his regard for Mr. Crane was his confidence in the teacher's candor and sincerity. Ward felt that come what might Mr. Crane never said pleasing things just for the pleasure of saying them, or for the pleasure his praise might impart. In all this he was in marked contrast to Mr. Blake whose words of praise were so plentiful as to be cheap, and were bestowed so indiscriminately that they were slightly valued. Mr. Crane, on the contrary, was ever ready to speak a word of encouragement to any boy whom he perceived to be doing his best, but he never praised at the expense of truth. And perhaps it was because of the dim consciousness that there was too much truth in what he had heard, that Ward's bitterness was somewhat increased.

He could not conceal from himself the fact that in the preceding year, when he had been received into the "Tangs" and made much of by a class of boys whose ideals, home training, and lives had been very different from his own, that he had been somewhat elated by the attentions he had received and that his manner and bearing toward the other boys in the school had gradually undergone a marked change.

He had become somewhat overbearing and condescending in his dealings with them. He had assumed airs that did not become him and rejected many of the overtures of friendship that had been offered him. And as a consequence he had not gained them, and now he had lost the others. Did Mr. Crane know anything of that? Ward almost felt that he must, but the knowledge did not tend to increase his peace of mind at the time. In fact, Ward Hill wanted what he did not need, and needed what he did not want.

For two days, as we have said, the struggle went on in Ward's soul. At times he would be bitter and hard, feeling that it made no difference what he attempted to do, the hand of nearly every one was certain to be against him. Then again, his better self would assert itself and he would be able to see things in their true light.

To Henry he did not speak of his troubles. He worked faithfully and hard over his lessons, and knew that he was doing well in his classes; but somehow the knowledge did not bring him the satisfaction he had expected. He could not forget or ignore Mr. Crane's words, and the recollection of them was ever a disturbing element in his mind.

When the two days had passed, he sought out Jack, having resolved to seek his opinion, half hoping that his friend, who ever had good words for all, would have something to say to him which would be a comfort to his troubled soul.

It was in his room that he found his friend and after stating, as clearly and fully as he could recall, the conversation with Mr. Crane, he said abruptly: "Now, Jack, I want you to tell me just what you think. Am I a prig, like Big Smith? Do you think Mr. Crane was right? Am I to blame for what's coming to me?"

"Ward, I don't know," said Jack soberly after a brief silence.

Ward felt hurt and somewhat humiliated by his friend's reply. He was so anxious to be absolved from all blame that he had eagerly looked forward to Jack as a consoler. And now Jack's manner, far more than his words, seemed to imply that he too thought something was wrong with himself.

"It seems to me," said Ward, unable entirely to conceal his disappointment, "that a fellow who stands up for Henry as I did when the 'Tangs' got after him, isn't altogether bad. And why is Tim Pickard so down on me? If I'd gone into his scrapes, or if even now I'd go in again, he'd be all right, and you know it. I'd have my place on the nine and the fellows in the school wouldn't all be down on me as they now are."

"I don't know what to say to you," said Jack slowly. "You know how I feel, old fellow, and there isn't a chap in the school who would be so glad to have you take the place I know belongs to you as I would. I know Tim's to blame, but then you know how it was with Big Pond. He didn't go in with Tim and the 'Tangs,' and yet there hasn't been a fellow in school for years whom every one liked as they did Pond. Now I know him and I know you, and for the life of me I can't see just where the fault lies."

"Only you know they liked Pond and don't like me."

"It isn't as strong as that. It isn't that the fellows dislike you, Ward. That isn't it."

"It's that they don't like me," said Ward bitterly, determined to say the words which he perceived that Jack would not.

"I think it'll come out all right, Ward, if you'll have patience and wait. It isn't very pleasant, I know," he hastily added as he saw an expression of pain and mortification sweep over Ward's face, "but it'll all come right, I'm sure."

"And meanwhile I'm to sit still and bear it all like a martyr on a pole."

"No, not that--not that--but----"

"But what?"

"But I wish you'd take a little more pains to make the fellows like you."

"Don't you remember, though, what the doctor said about the fellows that tried to do the popular act, how they never succeeded and the school was always down on them?"

"Yes, I remember, and it's true too, but that doesn't mean that a fellow's not to take a little trouble to be agreeable--I mean to go out of his way. Forgive me, Ward. It hurts me worse than it does you, but you asked me the honest question and I'm trying hard, honestly I am, to see a way out of it. Now there's Big Smith. He's never in a scrape. He doesn't know what the word mischief means, but then he isn't over popular, you know."

"Yes, I know; but I hope I'm not like Big Smith. I suppose I'll have to take it out in being respected, even if I'm not liked."

"That's where you're wrong, Ward. I tell you a fellow's got to be respected or he's not liked. He's got to have something the other fellows don't have or they don't look up to him and don't care much for him, either. No, sir! I don't believe a fellow can be respected and not be liked. Speaking of that, and the doctor's words, don't you remember what he said about 'speaking the truth in love'? that it wasn't enough for a fellow to be true, and speak the truth too, for that matter, but that the way in which he did it counted for as much or more than what he said? I usually take a nap when the doctor gets to preaching, but I was thinking that morning and so kept awake."

"Thinking of me, maybe?" said Ward, looking keenly at Jack as he spoke.

"Why, yes, to tell the truth I was thinking of you, Ward; but I fancy I'd been in a good deal better business to have been thinking of myself."

"Jack, what would you advise me to do?"

"I told you, Ward, I don't know what to tell you. Still, if you want me to, I'll tell you one or two things I've thought of."

"Go ahead," said Ward, striving to appear calm, though there was a sinking of the heart as he spoke.

"Well, to begin with, old fellow, there isn't a boy in the class who can learn his lessons with as little work as you can. Why, you can see right through a thing that takes my old head an hour to find out. But, Ward," he added hesitatingly, "I've sometimes thought you were a little quick to poke fun at the fellows who are not so quick-witted as you are. And then you aren't over ready to give a fellow a lift when he's in trouble. Now, for example, there's Big Smith. I saw him come up to you before class yesterday and say, 'Ward, how do you translate this passage?' And maybe you remember what you said to him."

"No, I don't," replied Ward. "He's such a shirk I've no patience with him. What did I say, Jack?"

"Why you turned him off with a curt, 'How do I translate that place? Why, I translate it right,' and then you turned on your heel and walked off."

"But I don't want to drag Big Smith through by letting him hang on to my coat tails. I work to get what I have, and why shouldn't the other fellows work too, I'd like to know? Every tub ought to stand on its own bottom."

"That's all true enough, but it wouldn't cost you anything to give another fellow a lift; you can do it too, I know, for you've lifted me right out of the mire every time I asked you."

"Yes, but I like you, Jack."

"But I thought it was of the other fellows and the school you were talking just now."

"So I was, Jack," replied Ward slowly. Perhaps he was beginning to see what his friend had in mind. "But go on, give me another. I'm good for it."

"Well," said Jack hesitatingly, "I've thought about the nine, Ward. Henry and I were perfectly willing to keep off till they'd take you on, but you wouldn't have that."

"No, sir! I'd never go on the nine if I had to get on in that way."

"That's all right and I don't know that I blame you, though I think by a little squeezing Tim would have come around all right. But I did think you might have gone on the scrub."

"Go on the scrub!" said Ward quickly. "What? Go on the scrub when I'd been put off from the nine? Not much! Not as long as the court knows itself." And Ward rose from his seat and in his anger began to pace back and forth in the room.

"You don't see what I'm driving at. Now it looks to me like this. If you'd taken the thing good-naturedly and made out that you weren't hit so hard, I think the most of the fellows in the school would have taken your part in no time. As it is, you just keep away from them, and if Tim tells them that you've gone back on everything, why they don't know but it's true, you see. Now if you'd swallowed your pride and gone in with the fellows, whether you were on the nine or not, why it wouldn't have been any time before every one of them would be willing to swear that you were one of the best fellows in the school, as well as one of the best players, and Tim would be forced to give you back your place. Ripley has it now, but he doesn't size up to your knees, when it comes to playing ball."

"Yes, but think what Tim Pickard would say if he should see me on the scrub nine. He'd think he'd got me just where he wanted me, and that I was all cut up about being put off the nine, and was trying to force my way back again."

"Tim might be a little disagreeable at first; but you know if you braced up and either laughed at him or paid no attention to what he said, how soon he'd cool off. Now look here, Ward, how many times has your room been stacked since we had our little interview with Timothy down at Ma Perrins'?"

"Not once."

"Exactly. And if you meet Tim and the boys in the same way down on the ball ground you'd see how soon he'd crawl there. Oh, I know Tim Pickard all the way up and all the way down, from the top of his head to the sole of his foot."

"But, I don't want to get on the nine in any such way," protested Ward.

"Never mind the nine, just come down and go in with the fellows, that's all I'm telling you. You can't run off up to the glen or away off to the Hopper, and think all the school is going to come trailing after you. If you're going to catch fish, you've got to go where the fish are, haven't you? And if you think the fellows are all down on you, you can't fix things straight by going off and talking with the whispering breezes and echoing hills, and all that sort of stuff."

Ward soon departed and went to his own room. His heart was smarting from the effect of Jack's words, but somehow he could not feel angry with him. Who could? The light-hearted, generous lad made friends on every side, for no one could long withstand his sunny ways.

That night Ward sat for a long time at his study table, with his head resting upon his hands and his books unopened before him. He was thinking of Mr. Crane's words and what Jack had said.

At last he arrived at a quick decision, and with the decision once made he opened his books and resolutely began the preparation of his lessons for the following day.

CHAPTER XIV

WARD HUMBLES HIMSELF

For a long time after he had retired that night Ward rolled and tossed upon his bed, and it seemed to the troubled boy as if sleep would never come. The words of Jack kept sounding in his ears, and do what he would he could not forget them.

His heart was heavy too, with the consciousness that the words were true and that he knew he was in a measure at fault. Perhaps that after all was the source of his deepest suffering, for Ward Hill was one of the few boys who could not entirely deceive himself.

Again and again he tried to persuade himself that his present suffering all came because he had broken with his former associates in the school. That a measure of truth lay in that fact he could readily persuade himself to believe, but not all of it could be traced to that source. Jack's references to his unwillingness to aid the other boys and his tendency to have but slight sympathy for those who did not learn as easily as he, had touched him in a tender spot and his own conscience accused him.

Then too, he knew that he had withdrawn from the fellowship of many in the school, and had been accustomed to pride himself somewhat upon that very fact. He was not dependent upon any one. If the fellows did not care for him, why, he did not intend to hang his harp on the willows and sit down and mourn over his slights. He would show every one in the school that he could live without his company if needs be. With such statements he had endeavored to bolster up his courage and by an air of bravado, if not of true independence, he would show his own superiority. No one should ever hear him "whine."

Yet, despite his efforts, his heart had been heavy all the time. He yearned for the love and good will of his companions. No one in the school more desired to be popular than he. And few too would suffer from the lack of popularity as he did.

And his heart had been heavy when he at last had closed his books when the bell was rung that night and he had put out his light and crept into his bed. He was tormented by a dull, heavy feeling of misery. He felt lonely and forlorn. Both Mr. Crane and Jack had virtually admitted that he was not very well liked by the school, and both also evidently thought he was not entirely blameless in the matter.

As the truth gradually came to be seen by him, he was sincere enough to acknowledge it to be true and had sufficient strength to rouse himself to face its difficulties. He would follow Jack's suggestions.

On the following morning he said to Jack as they left the chapel together: "I'm going to follow your advice, and am coming down to play on the scrub against the nine this afternoon. The only thing I'm afraid of is that Tim Pickard will think I'm crawling. You know I'm not trying to get back my place on the team."

"That's all right, Ward," replied Jack enthusiastically. "Never you mind Tim, you just go ahead. It'll be all right and I'll see that you have a place on the scrub."

As a consequence of Jack's efforts, when in the afternoon Ward went down to the ball ground, Ford, who was acting as the captain of the scrub nine, which was formed to give the regular nine practice every day, said to him, "Ward, will you take a hand with us this afternoon?"

"Yes," replied Ward quietly.

"All right; play 'short' then, will you?"

As Ward threw aside his coat and walked out upon the field to take the position assigned him, he was conscious that many of the boys who had assembled to watch the nine at its practice were talking of him. His face burned, but he tried hard not to appear aware of the curiosity which his appearance on the field had aroused. The sneer on Tim Pickard's face was the hardest for him to bear; and when he overheard the words which Tim uttered, evidently intended for Ward's special benefit, about "sneaks" and "trying to curry favor and crawl back on the team," he was sorely tempted to leave the field instantly.

But catching a meaning look just then from Jack, he resolutely ignored all that he had heard and seen, and well aware that Tim would be highly delighted even then to have him abandon the game, he tried hard to give his entire attention to the work before him.

It was the first game in which Ward had played since he had come back to Weston and he felt sadly his lack of practice. But endeavoring to make up by his efforts what he lacked in practice, he succeeded beyond his hopes in acquitting himself creditably. He handled the ball quickly and threw with all his old-time swiftness.

Indeed, he thought more than once of that long throw of his in the game with the Burrs in the preceding year, which had saved the game and won for him the wild applause of his fellows. The recollection served to intensify the difficulties of his present position. How sadly had it all been changed since the preceding year! He was, however, too busy in the game to dwell long upon the misery which the thought produced.

When it came to be his turn to bat and he stood facing Tim, who was the pitcher of the Weston nine, he could easily perceive the expression of hatred upon his face. Tim exerted himself to the utmost and sent in the ball with all the speed and curves he could summon. Perhaps his manifest desire to place Ward at a disadvantage served to rouse the latter all the more. At any rate he stood calmly facing Tim, apparently unmoved by all his efforts to annoy him.

It became evident to others as well as to Ward that Tim in his anger was trying to hit him with the ball. He sent in two or three at his swiftest speed and Ward had all he could do to dodge them successfully.

"Oh, hold on, Tim!" called Jack in a low voice from his position at short stop. "What are you trying to do? You want to remember that we're not alone here."

Somehow Jack always seemed to have a strange influence over the captain of the nine, an influence which no other exerted, or even tried to use. And the effect of the words became at once apparent as Tim's speed slackened and the next ball came in directly over the plate.

Just then Ward obtained a glimpse of Mr. Crane, who had come upon the grounds and taken his position in the front line of the spectators, where he stood watching the game. Perhaps the sight of the teacher, or Jack's words, or the change which came over Tim, served to arouse Ward still more. He never knew just what the cause was; but as he saw the ball coming swiftly toward him, he caught it squarely on the end of his bat and sent it far out over the heads of the waiting fielders.

As Ward swiftly cleared the bases, sending in two men before him, he was dimly conscious that a faint cheer had arisen from the spectators. He gave no heed to that, however, nor yet to the words with which Jack hailed him as he ran swiftly past him. Somehow the heavy hit which he had made served in a measure to relieve his feelings, and as he halted upon the third base he wiped his dripping face with his handkerchief and for the first time turned and looked about him.

Jack's face was beaming and Ward could easily see he had risen in the estimation of the spectators. The sight produced a thrill of pleasure in his heart, but he was soon recalled to the necessities of the game and gave himself fully to that. When at last he succeeded in stealing home, the applause again broke out, but Ward held himself aloof from the boys, well satisfied with what he had done.

Twice more during the game Ward succeeded in hitting squarely the swiftly thrown balls of the pitcher, and when at last the game was ended, the scrub nine for the first time that season had succeeded in making a creditable showing against the school nine, and Ward knew the success in large measure had been due to his efforts.

"Tell you what, Tim," said Jack, as the members of the nine picked up their bats and started for their rooms, "we'll have to put up the scrub against the Burrs, I'm thinking. If we don't look out they'll be playing all around us."

Tim made no reply, but a savage scowl crept over his face. He prided himself upon his prowess as a pitcher, and indeed it was freely acknowledged that there was no one in the school in any way to be compared with him. Indeed, it was this fact that chiefly enabled Tim to retain his position as the captain of the nine, for the boys well knew that without him they would be so sadly crippled as to be unable to make a good showing against any team.

The fact that Ward Hill, whom he disliked so intensely, had succeeded in successfully batting him that day was gall to the angry boy. He made no reply to Jack's words, and sullenly departed from the field.

Ward did not wait for any of his friends to accompany him as he too started from the ball ground. Jack's beaming face pleased him greatly, and the words that he overheard some of the boys say about it's being "a shame that Hill was not on the nine," seemed also to comfort him; but without waiting to speak to any one he drew on his coat and started to go.

As he came to the border of the grounds he was surprised as Mr. Crane joined him and said: "You've done well to-day, Hill, and I congratulate you."

"Thank you," said Ward simply, though his face flushed with pleasure at the words.

"You haven't been over to see me yet," continued Mr. Crane. "Can't you come up to my room for a few minutes now?"

"I'm hardly fit for that," said Ward, glancing ruefully at his soiled hands. He knew also that his hair was in disorder and that his face bore many tokens of his recent exertions.

"I understand all that," said Mr. Crane quietly. "If you can spare a few minutes now I should be very glad to have you come. You bear only the honorable signs of battle, and I shall forget them. I want only a few minutes with you."

"I'll come," said Ward simply, as he turned and walked with the teacher, and was soon seated in his room.

"Now, Hill," said Mr. Crane as soon as he too had taken his seat, "I don't want you to think that I'm asking more than I ought, and if you feel that I am you are at liberty not to answer me. But I should be glad to have you tell me why you went down to the ball ground this afternoon and played on the scrub nine. You haven't done that before, have you?"

"No," said Ward quietly.

He was silent a moment, and then, as he looked up, he felt rather than saw that Mr. Crane was regarding him intently. His interest was so apparent that almost before he realized what he was doing Ward had related all his recent troubles to him. He did not mention any names, but he told him of his own feelings when he had listened to his words of the previous interview; also of what "a friend"--for so he referred to Jack--had said to him in the same line. He held nothing back. His own bitterness, his feeling that he had been misunderstood, his discouragement and all came out.

"Hill," said Mr. Crane when Ward at last ended, "I'm greatly pleased with you. You haven't done anything since you came to Weston that has given me such genuine pleasure as that which you have done to-day."

"Why, Mr. Crane," said Ward quickly, his face flushing as he spoke and a very suspicious moisture appearing in his eyes, "I didn't know you cared so much about the game. I thought you would be more pleased over my work in the classes."

"I am pleased with both, Hill. I am delighted at the improvement in your class work, and I am no less pleased over what I have seen to-day."

As Ward appeared somewhat mystified and looked questioningly at him, Mr. Crane continued, "The class work is important. You know I would be the last to belittle that. But there are many other things to be learned in a school like this. I have been here many years now, and I have had an opportunity to judge of the relative success of the boys as they have gone up to college and out into life, and I must say that many of my old standards of judgment have been revised."

"And you don't think that standing high in the class is first then?" said Ward eagerly.

"Yes, with you I do, Hill; but first, not all. I want to see every boy do his best, his particular rank in class then becomes a secondary matter. There are some boys who are older when they enter, or much more mature when they are of the same age as their fellows, and of course they do the work more easily and gain a higher standing without much effort. But some students show elements of growth and promise, and although they may not stand so high as some of the others, I can see by the very impetus they receive from working faithfully that they are bound to outstrip the others in the race of life. Then too, school work only tests a man on one side of his mental make-up. His memory may be strong and he may also be able to perceive and receive, but his ability to create or to carry out plans is not tested in the least, or to a very slight degree. So when he gets out into the world and finds that the world is much more prone to ask of him what he can furnish or add to the stock it already has, or what he can do in carrying out his plans, than it is to ask him about his ability to soak in as a sponge does, he doesn't know just what to make of it. Creative ability and executive ability are but slightly tested in school life, and these are the qualities of success far more than mere receptive power. I don't know that I make myself clear, using these long words," added Mr. Crane smilingly.

"I think I understand you," said Ward slowly; "but I'd never thought of it in that way before. I always thought if a fellow did well in school he'd be likely to outside."

"And so he will," said Mr. Crane quickly. "You see I didn't make myself clear after all. I think success in the main is in him, not in his surroundings, and if he has ability and exerts it in school it will tell there as well as in any other place. If a boy has ability and applies himself he will succeed in school if success is in him. But on the other hand, because a boy has the special kind of ability to succeed in school work it does not always follow that the same qualities will make his life-work a success. And that is the very reason why I am always glad to see a boy tested and meet the test on every side of his life, even while he is in school."

"And you think I have been tested?"

"Yes; and I think you are meeting the tests. School life and school work are two different things. I want not less of one but more of the other. The discipline of hard study is what you need, Hill; and you need also the discipline which only the boys can give you. No teacher can give it, however much he may try. It's life, not books. Now no discipline for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous. Nevertheless, afterward----"

"Yes, yes, I see," said Ward quickly. "And you think I am learning? Tell me honestly just what you think, Mr. Crane."

"I think you are learning and are doing well in the school life as well as in the school work," replied Mr. Crane cordially, as he rose from his chair, a signal which Ward at once understood.

CHAPTER XV

OUTSIDE LESSONS

"Now, Hill," said Mr. Crane, as Ward stopped for a moment in the doorway, "I trust I have not said too much to you."

The teacher's kindly tones and grave manner impressed Ward even more than what he had been saying, and with a face that beamed in spite of the marks which the dust of the ball-ground had left, the boy, far more light-hearted than he had been for many weeks now, said: "You have done me lots of good, Mr. Crane."

"Let us hope that it will prove to be so. I rejoice with you that the muskets of Lexington have been heard, now let us see to it that the guns of Yorktown shall also be heard. Or to put it in another way, the victory of a Bull Run does not always mean that the same parties are in similar conditions at Appomattox. The declaration of independence did not of itself make the colonies free. They had to prove their right and ability to be free; but still the declaration had to come first. You have fought at Lexington, and have declared your independence, and I think too you have had your Trenton and Princeton. Now if Valley Forge and Benedict Arnold come along why you will not forget what followed them. But I don't mean to stand here and croak of possible ills. I am confident now, Hill, that you are beginning to be master of yourself, and that is what the discipline and training of a school course and school life are for. Come and see me again soon, Hill. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mr. Crane," said Ward; and then he started directly across the campus toward his room to prepare for supper.

Somehow he was feeling strangely elated. He could not see that there had been any radical change in himself or in his relations with his fellows, but the trial of the afternoon on the ball-ground had been passed, and he had played a game which certainly must have proven to all that whether he was on the nine or not, there was no one in the school who could do better.

And he could not fail to see too the change which already had become manifest in the feelings of many of the boys toward him. The surprise with which they had first observed him when he went out on the field, the sneers of Tim Pickard, reflected in a measure by some of his boon companions, the remarks which his appearance had called forth, had all soon changed, that is, all save Tim's malice, which had given place to an expression of intense and bitter hatred.

Still Ward thought he could endure that. His vigorous body was still tingling from the effects of his exercise, and the words of Mr. Crane were still sounding in his ears. Added to all that was the evident pleasure of the spectators which his ability as a player had aroused, and the cordial encouragement of the one teacher in the school whom he most respected and loved. Ward was beginning to feel as if life were not such a heavy burden after all.

"Well, Ward, that was a great game you put up this afternoon," said Henry, as his room-mate entered the room. "The way in which you batted Tim almost broke him up."

"Did it?" said Ward lightly, as he at once began to wash.

"It did that, and it tickled the rest of us, or rather some of us, mightily too. Tim will soon have to give you back your place on the nine."

"No, he'll not do that," replied Ward quickly. "Tim's got enough of the nine under his thumb to have his say, and I know he'd rather leave than have me on the team."

"But surely, Ward, after to-day's work you'll not object to Jack's proposal?"

"Jack's proposal? I don't know just what you mean."

"Why, that he and I should tell Tim that he must take you back or we'd leave the nine."