THE clock had struck nine one bright summer’s morning when little Walter Ford ran quickly along the road leading to the school. He was five minutes after time, and that was the reason why he was in such haste.
The rules of the school were very strict; and if a boy was late twice during the week, or had three returned lessons, he was obliged to stay in the schoolroom all Saturday afternoon.
This was a great punishment, for on Saturday afternoons the boys used to go for long walks together; either to gather nuts and blackberries in the autumn—to get primroses, violets, and birds nests in the spring— or to skate and slide on the ponds in the winter.
This bright summer’s morning Walter felt very frightened, his heart beat quickly. and he ran along the road as fast as he could, because two weeks ago he had been kept in for imperfect lessons, and one had been returned only the day before.
This morning he had been very thoughtless and naughty, for when he ought to have been learning his lessons, he ran into the garden to see how the cherries looked, and whether any more apples had fallen; he also had forgotten the time, and when Nero, the great Newfoundland dog, came bounding up to him, Walter amused himself quite half an hour in throwing bits of stick for the dog to run after.
At last Mr. Ford caught sight of his little boy, and called him indoors, but it was then too late to study, so he had only time to brush his hair and wash his hands before he started for school.
When Walter reached the school-house all the boys were in their places, and his name was taken down with red ink in the great book as late. He crept into his seat, and tried to glance over his lessons, but his class was called up directly, and poor Walter got into disgrace, having two returned lessons.
“You will have to stay behind again on Saturday,” said the teacher, “and spend your afternoon in writing out your lessons. I am very displeased with you.”
Walter was obstinate and sullen, though very affectionate he could be led by love, but when severely punished would grow hard, and for a long while show no signs of sorrow, so he took away his books with a frown upon his brow, and though he felt very much inclined to cry, he pressed his lips together and drove away his tears.
Several of the boys of the school had agreed to spend the next holiday afternoon in the woods, and Walter Ford had been asked to join them, although, being ten years old, he was one of the youngest in the school; but the reason he was allowed to go I will now state.
There was a boy in the first class named Edward Grant, who was fourteen years of age, and he promised Walter’s mamma to look after her little boy when he entered the school, and, if possible, keep him out of trouble. Ed ward was only too glad to promise this, for he was an orphan, and Mrs. Ford had been very good to him.
After his father and mother’s death she took him into her house, and by every possible kindness made him feel at home. She smoothed his grief, and spoke to him so gently, that he turned to her as if she had been his mother; and in his boyish gratitude, felt he could have done anything for her, could have denied himself any pleasure for her sake. And now that he had left her house, and was living with a stern, strict uncle, he would still go to her in his difficulties, and pour out his sorrows into her ear, sure of finding in her one who was ready to help him, ready to listen and to guide; so that when Mrs. Ford asked him to look after Walter, he gladly promised to do so, and during the three months that the boy had been at school, had helped him with his lessons, and tried to keep him from harm.
Walter was very fond of Edward, and looked up to him as to an elder brother. When school was over, he would walk with him, and ask his advise if he got into any trouble.
ML 02/09/1902