The best foot forward, and other stories

Front matter

ChapLEZ^\Copyright No.

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

K s fVJ

Contents

THE BEST FOOT FORWARD.

CHAPTER

I. In which there is a Change of Teachers, and the Class of Second Academic Finds that it has fallen on Dark Days, ....

Chapter I

IN WHICH THERE IS A CHANGE OF TEACHERS , AND THE CLASS OF SECOND ACADEMIC FINDS THAT IT HAS FALLEN UPON DARK DAYS.

When the boys of Second Academic discovered a new teacher at the desk, they were surprised and bewildered. No wonder they looked at each other with uneasy and inquiring glances; but two weeks of the school-year had passed and all had been going as merry as a marriage bell. What could have happened ?

This is what they learned later in the day.

Mr. Phillips had been suddenly called away to a new field of labor; Mr. Phillips, who with much scattering of sunshine had brought them through the class of Third Academic; and who had succeeded in making the past two weeks of the new school-year so bright and pleasant.

The new teacher, on the face of it, was not an

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agreeable substitute. He looked appallingly austere, and, what is more, as his young disciples learned long before the first hour of class came to an end, he was austere.

“Well, boys/’ he began, “Mr. Phillips has been called away; and I have been sent here to take his place. I hope we shall get along together. He gives me a more than favorable account of you; but I fear that his great liking for boys has clouded his judgment. Frankly, I am inclined to believe that there never were such boys on the face of the round earth as he describes you to be. If there be any such, they certainly have never fallen under my observation.”

Here Tommy Madden burst into a giggle, and several others, suspecting some hidden playfulness in the professor’s remarks, smiled amiably. Mr. Roberts’ face turned a shade darker, and the furrows on his brow came out in stronger relief.

“I don’t want any unseemly levity,” he announced glaring at Tommy. That giddy youngster composed his countenance at once, and winked furtively at his particular friend, Harry McCabe.

“Boys,” continued Mr. Roberts, “are the strongest evidence we have of original sin.”

The listeners took a moment or two to reflect on this difficult saying. The thoughtful silence was

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interrupted by another giggle; but the face of its author was not in evidence.

“God in His inscrutable providence/' went on the professor, with much earnestness and a decided exhibition of nervousness, “has decreed that for a certain number of years creatures of a nondescript nature that are subsequently to develop into men should vegetate and squirm, and while they are vegetating and squirming and exercising a pernicious activity, the whole world must wait in patience until the thing called a boy ceases to exist, and grows into something valuable, as well for what he performs, as for what he promises. The very best boys are more or less disagreeable in the exhibition of their finest qualities. Of course, we who are older can read between the lines, and discern in their unpleasant traits and unwinning ways the promise of the good there is to be, as in the grub one may detect the promise of the butterfly — See here, you young fellow on the fourth bench to the right, will you stop your fidgeting? I am sure that you are annoying your bench-mate very much.”

“No, sir; he isn't,” responded the bench-mate in question. “We’ve been sitting together ever since — ”

“Silence, sir; I shall allow no talking in this class without permission. Now, take out your Viri

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Romae ; and you, Mr. Giggler,” — here he pointed an ominous finger at Tommy Madden — “will read the first sentence of the day’s task.”

While Tommy was finding the lesson, his fellowstudents were reading the year’s disasters in Mr. Roberts’ face.

He was older by four or five years than their former beloved teacher. His hair was very thin in front; and, as he put his head close to the printed page after the manner of near-sighted readers, the curious and alert observers noticed a bald spot on the crown, very like, in size and in shape, to the clerical tonsure. His face was thin and sharply drawn, and so rigidly set about the corners of the mouth that an imaginative boy with a sense of humor might wonder whether, in the event of a smile, it might not crack in several places. There were dark circles about his eyes, his complexion was sallow, and he had a trick of compressing his lips which was the nearest thing possible to biting them. All in all, he looked like a man who had suffered much, and laughed little.

In reading the Latin sentence, young Madden made five mistakes in quantity. At each mispronunciation, Mr. Roberts put on the countenance of pained surprise.

“Do you call that reading Latin?” he inquired severely. “That will do, sir; suppose your neighbor tries it.”

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The neighbor in question was Eddie Miller, the best Latin scholar of the class, and as nice a boy as ever attended Delta College.

Before beginning to read, Eddie tried to smile in a friendly manner at Mr. Roberts. But what with the loss of his much loved teacher, and what with the strange and forbidding ways of the new, Eddie Miller, in common with the rest of the class, had become extremely nervous; accordingly, his smile, instead of being easy, was forced and unnatural. A character reader would have interpreted it as the smile of the heavy villain when he wishes to look particularly scornful and reckless. Whether Mr. Roberts was a reader of character or not remains to be seen; it suffices for our present purpose to know that he read the smile wrong. Eddie had just enough composure left to see that what he had intended as an overture of peace had been received as a hostile and unfriendly demonstration. A new wave of nervousness swept over him. It is not to be wondered at that he said omaverunt for amaverunt, and that he pronounced bibere, as though it belonged to the second conjugation. In the middle of the sentence Miller lost control of his eyesight. The page before him became a blur; then he did the most natural thing under the circumstances — which was also the most ridiculous thing — he burst into a meaningless laugh.

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Mr. Roberts screwed his face tight enough, to all appearances, to snap the strings of a violin, sat bolt upright in his chair, and, folding his arms, thus addressed Eddie in particular, and the class in general :

“Although I did not expect you, sir, or any of you, young gentlemen of the class of Second Academic, to correspond very closely to the description given of you by your late teacher, still I looked forward to common politeness, at least in the beginning of our dealings with one another. And now, before I have fairly introduced myself to you, my first remarks are received with giggles, and I am openly insulted by a young gentleman who says Inhere and amaverunt.”

Poor Eddie Miller, who during his three years at college had rarely if ever heard a harsh or reproving word from those who had to do with him, here made a silent protest with eyes and shoulders and hands.

“Don’t interrupt me, sir.” The teacher paused for a moment. The boys sat in the momentary quiet occasioned by dismay and surprise. “You began your reading with a smile of impudence, and ended it with the laugh of insult; and now you are in the sulks.”

After his silent protest, Eddie, very red in the face, had lowered his eyes, and was listening with

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the most respectful attention. It is not so easy, very often, to distinguish respectful attention from a fit of the sulks, or from covert defiance. Mr. Roberts had fallen into a very natural mistake.

‘‘Suppose you try that sentence,” said the teacher to the boy who sat in front of Miller.

When Tony Froller tried to find the place, he wished there was a mountain to fall upon him. A minute passed: for all the success he met with, he might have been looking for a needle in a haystack.

“I — I can’t find the* place, sir; I believe it’s tore out of my book.”

To make a long story short, not a single student of Second Academic could be found to read that first sentence correctly, and all in consequence were ordered to report after class. The worst had come, and with the worst the nervous terror was over. A short time often brings about marvellous changes. Before the end of the second hour, the spitball made its first appearance in that class; and during the afternoon, the “nigger-shooter,” and several breaches of order hitherto unknown foreboded that the golden age was over and gone forever.

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Chapter II. In Which Eddie Miller Tells His Tale Of Woe , And

RECEIVES , IN RETURN, AN ASTONISHING REVE- LATION FROM HIS OLDER BROTHER.

In all his experience with young people, the writer of this veracious chronicle has met with but one Eddie Miller. Had he not met him, it is not at all unlikely that he would have pronounced Eddie the very last thing* in the way of a possible boy. Having met him, however, he is compelled to admit that his like is rarely found. Still, were it not for Eddie, this story would not be worth the writing, and, if written, would be far less satisfactory in its conclusion.

With more than average gifts of mind, Eddie was a lad of no little tact. He said and did the right thing at the right time. Furthermore, he was exceedingly good-natured, and, at the same time, unselfish — qualities of character which are found in conjunction by no means so often as is popularly supposed. His extreme kindness may be judged from the fact that none of his playmates had ever heard him utter an uncharitable or bitter word against any human being. When his companions were in trouble or distress, they were wont to confide their woes to him, and, such was the

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*3 power of his sympathy, they never departed unconsoled.

No matter whither Miller went, he was always in good company; for bad boys changed, for the time being, their natures when within reach of his direct influence. He seemed to carry about with him an atmosphere of sunshine and cheerfulness. He judged others at their best, and, by a sort of responsive instinct, others showed him their best. So ingenious was his charity in the kindly interpretation of others’ sayings and doings, that he explained away what was, on the face of it, wrong or mean with a seeming subtlety, which was in effect the highest and noblest form of simplicity. True kindness is the deadly foe of sin; and I have no doubt that young Miller exercised an influence for good which was almost apostolic. Briefly, his was a large, a noble, and a religious nature. In his manner of dealing with others he was the very opposite of his new teacher. Mr. Roberts appeared to expect the very worst of human nature; and he got exactly what he expected. Eddie looked for the best, and he was seldom disappointed.

Just turned thirteen, he was rather stout, with a ruddy, smiling, good-natured face, and clear, gray eyes, which looked straight into yours with the frank gaze which is the prerogative of innocent and unstained youth. He was heavily, almost i4

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clumsily built; and, though fairly good in games — by reason of his strength, which atoned, in a measure, for his want of agility — he was hardly superior in this respect to the average college boy of his years. But as a scholar and a leader he was easily the best of all the junior students. The heights of noble simplicity are equivalently the heights of subtlety; and no boy politician — how great soever his diplomacy — could have hoped to exert the powerful influence of Eddie Miller. His face, as the attentive reader may have already gathered, wore, in general, an expression of cheerfulness; but at supper on the evening of the eventful day when Mr. Roberts assumed charge of the Second Academic class, he looked pensive and troubled.

When there is question of her own child, very, very little indeed escapes the attention of the mother.

“What’s the matter, Eddie?” Mrs. Miller inquired.

“Oh, nothing very much, mother; things are a little upset.”

“That’s no reason why you should not eat your supper, Eddie,” continued the mother. “My little boy will become ill, if he allows things to trouble him so far as to take away his appetite.”

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“I suppose your invincible baseball team has been beaten,” put in his brother Janies.

“No; it’s not that. I wish it was. I could stand the loss of a game well enough. But it’s worse. Our old teacher who prepared us for our first communion and who was so kind to all of us has been called away. Every fellow in the class feels bad about it. I don’t think there was a single one of us who didn’t like him immensely.”

Mr. and Mrs. Miller received this bit of news with expressions of genuine sorrow; James and the younger children with perfect indifference.

“And who has taken Mr. Phillips’ place?” asked the father.

“He’s a new man — his name is Mr. Roberts.”

At the mention of this name, James Miller gave a perceptible start. His face flushed; he was on the point of uttering an exclamation; but restraining himself, he lifted his teacup to his lips, and concealed as best he could his emotion. His mother alone noticed that he had been startled.

“Mr. Roberts, Mr. Roberts,” repeated Mr. Miller; “it strikes me that I have heard that name before.”

“He was my teacher at St. Bruno’s the last year I was there,” observed Janies with the least little quiver in his voice. He spoke in a low tone. The words were not intended for the ears of Eddie.

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Mother and father looked at each other meaningly; there came an awkward pause. Eddie had intended to say nothing further; but the sudden silence drove him into speech.

‘Tm afraid,” he continued, “that there’s going to be a lot of trouble in the class; and I guess that’s what makes me feel so out of sorts. You see, nearly the whole crowd of us made our first communion last year, and since that time a lot of us have been going to communion nearly every week regularly. We have all of us kept together, and on Saturday after school, we go off together to the church to confession. But this afternoon only three or four went. The others were too cross, and said they didn’t feel in the humor for going. Mr. Roberts doesn’t show that he likes boys. In fact, he talks as if he had no use for them at all. But then the boys don’t seem to like him, for that matter; and perhaps it’s our own fault. Perhaps it’s because we’re in bad humor, and not used to his ways. Some of the fellows played some pretty queer tricks in the class-room this afternoon. I don’t think they intended to be mean; but they didn’t seem to act like themselves at all. It looks now as if our class was going to pieces, and up to this time we’ve had a splendid reputation, and we have always thought that we were the banner class of the college.”

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“I hope,” said Mr. Miller gravely, “that my boy will not fall into line with the rest of the class, in the event of its ‘going to pieces,’ and that he will stand up for what he knows to be right.”

“I’ll try to, father; but I’m a little afraid that I’ll find it hard to get along with him nicely. He gave me a scolding to-day, though I didn’t quite see why. He seemed to think that I was impudent. It was a mistake, though; for I never dreamed of doing such a thing. All the same, I don’t blame him in the least. You see, I got rattled, and, when he asked me the lesson, I read the Latin wrong, and lost my head, and acted awfully foolish. The harder I tried, the worse I got; and I ended by breaking out into the stupidest kind of a laugh. He spoke crossly to me. I wonder why it is that a fellow doesn’t like a man who speaks crossly to him for a day or two after? That’s the way I feel now. But I reckon it will be over to-morrow.”

“The reason is very simple, my boy,” the father made answer. “Human nature is a very lovely thing; but it isn’t altogether lovely. It is dosed too heavily with original sin. Those feelings of vexation are perfectly natural, but not altogether creditable. Fight against them, and don’t go to bed with the least bit of dislike for your new teacher.”

“Thank you, father; I’ll try.”

When supper was over, James took Eddie by the arm, and drawing him aside, said in a mysterious whisper:

“Slip up quietly to my room, Eddie, I want to see you about something.”

When Eddie entered James’ bedroom a few minutes later, he was surprised to find his brother seated with his face buried in his hands.

“What’s the matter, James? Even before I saw your face, I could tell by the way you were sitting that you were awfully solemn.” As James raised his head, he added, “Good gracious! you look as pale as a ghost.”

The elder brother did not answer promptly. Apparently, he was trying with doubtful success to swallow something.

“Got something stuck in your throat?” asked Eddie, anxiously. “Suppose I hit you over the back. That will fetch it.”

For answer, James broke into a laugh; and with the laugh much of the strain and agitation under which he had been laboring disappeared.

“I was trying to swallow something, Eddie; but not what you thought. I was trying to swallow my feelings; and I think I have succeeded. Now, Ed, I’m going to tell you something about myself that’s been kept a secret from you ever since it

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*9 happened. It was my hope and desire that you should never know it. But that hope is gone; and, whether I like it or not, I feel that I ought to tell it, both for your sake and my own.”

Eddie became as solemn as a judge. His brother had never spoken to him thus seriously within his farthest remembrance.

“You needn’t be alarmed, though. Let me begin from the beginning. Why don’t you sit down? Well,” he went on, as Eddie seated himself, “as you may remember, I attended St. Bruno’s for nearly three years; and I can honestly say that when I began my third year there, I was not at all a bad boy, and what little influence I did exercise among my college friends was, at all events, not for evil. It was in that year that Mr. Roberts became my teacher.”

“What! Our Mr. Roberts?” cried Eddie, almost jumping from his chair.

“If it weren’t he,” answered James with a sickly smile, “I wouldn’t be telling you this story. Perhaps you never would have heard it. Well, I was a pretty lively boy, and so it came to pass that one thing or another that I did out of sheer thoughtlessness was misunderstood by Mr. Roberts. He got it into his head that I was trying to annoy him. As a matter of fact I did annoy him considerably; but, then, as is often the case with thoughtless

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boys, I had no intention of doing so; and in reality was not thinking of him at all. At first, when he called me to account, I tried to see things the way he saw them, and submit nicely. I must say, too, that although he was mistaken as regards my intentions, he was otherwise kind and reasonable. I think that we would have gotten on very well together, had it not been for two or three boys in my class. They managed, just at this time, to get my confidence, and then they did everything in their power to set me against Mr. Roberts. The worst of it is, they succeeded; and soon they persuaded me to think that Mr. Roberts was down on me. That settled it. Then, of course, I began to grow sore and suspicious and narrow. Next, the one topic of my spare time was my grievances. I began to go around with the hang-dog air which the college tough affects; and very soon every bit of influence which I possessed went for evil. Well, the end of it was that the entire class, with scarcely an exception, went wrong; and I was the ringleader, and, in consequence, was dismissed from college.”

“Is that so, James?”

“It’s the one bitter memory of my life. My dismissal meant more to me than you can imagine, Eddie. I was not a good boy when I left in disgrace; I believe that as a rule no boy in a Catholic school can be what he ought to be, if he has a

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strong feeling of dislike towards his teacher, and allows himself to be guided by such a feeling. For a year or so after leaving school, I went about like a bear with a sore head. Everything at that time promised my turning out a sour, useless, growling, good-for-nothing fellow. And still during this period I could not forget, in spite of everything I did, that, before I got under the influence of those fellows who made a cat’s-paw of me, I had had the idea of becoming a priest. Indeed, I was hesitating between the priesthood and the religious life, when the ugly part of me began to assert itself. The remembrance of this soured me all the more. Well, there’s no use in crying over spilt milk. I tell you this to make you understand how I feel now in looking back over those ugly days. It is all over and past now. I came to my senses after a while — through my mother, Eddie, and through — but that’s a matter which I need not speak about. And now that three years have passed since my dismissal, I see only too clearly how unjust and unkind I was to Mr. Roberts. It was chiefly owing to my leadership that the class he taught showed him every imaginable manner of meanness. I have since learned that when Mr. Roberts came to St. Bruno’s, he had to deal with boys for the first time, and that he has had nothing to do with them since. After leaving St.

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Bruno’s he was engaged in entirely different work. I suspect, too, that the reason for his giving up class-work was owing to his health; the year with me and the others almost ruined his health. Now, you begin to understand, Eddie, why it is that he thinks so little of boys.”

“Yes, indeed,” Eddie made answer. “I’m afraid that I have judged him very rashly. I’ll be more careful next time. No wonder, James, that he doesn’t trust us yet.”

“Oh, if you only knew the way we treated him,” returned the elder brother earnestly, “you would hardly think it possible that he would ever trust boys again. It was not the ordinary, the unorganized meanness of boys' he had to suffer from; our conduct was practically conducted on the plan of a conspiracy, which made it a thousand times worse than it could be if it were a go-as-you-please affair. The treatment he got from us was something awful. It makes me feel mean to this day whenever I get to thinking of it. Till I came to hating Mr. Roberts, I had no idea how much meanness was in me. Now, Eddie, I can never begin to make any sort of reparation for what I have done; but you can help me, and, in a way, take my place. If you are willing to do what you can, you will do me the greatest favor I could ask of you, and, at the same time, you will avoid the danger I fell into.

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I used all my influence to spread evil; you must make up for me by using your influence for good. Stand by your teacher, Ed; don’t get into the sulks; don’t become a growler and a sore-head; keep your temper first and last and all the time, and — and — it will be a good thing all around.”

These last words did not exactly convey the thought which James was minded to utter; but being of the masculine gender, he yielded to the masculine reticence, and indicated by his manner the thought and feelings which he had not the courage to express in language.

Eddie was deeply moved — more so than he cared to show.

“I’m going to act on your advice, James, and I’m very glad you spoke to me about this affair. Perhaps I should have fallen into line with the other fellows, if you hadn’t told me your story. But now I’m quite sure that I will keep my temper and not become ugly and uncharitable. If Mr. Roberts doesn’t get along with the class it won’t be my fault.”

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Chapter III

IN WHICH ARE SET DOWN MINUTELY THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF MASTER CYRIL HARMON , SHOWING THAT SUCCESS IS SOMETIMES DEARLY BOUGHT;

AND IN WHICH EDDIE MILLER FINDS THA T HIS OWN POPULARITY STANDS IN THE WA Y OF HIS PERSONAL INFLUENCE.

In the first weeks of the school-yeai , the Second Academic gave every promise of remaining true to its record, and of being, whether in lessons or in conduct, the model class of the college. Before the end of September, it had lost its fair name and belied its promises; while many of its members had so far declined upon a lower level as to be rated among the most troublesome students of Delta College. And this marked deterioration, I am sorry to say, was not confined to studies and discipline. Not only had idleness and meanness slipped in, but carelessness in religious duties and practices had become painfully apparent. Few of the class remained faithful to their habit of frequent confession and communion; several ceased to attend the meetings of the Sodality of the Blessed Virgin, and others were on the point of taking their names from the list of membership. Yet there had been a time when the Sodality Director could

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2 5 count with certainty upon the attendance of the entire class. To make matters worse, divisions had arisen among the boys, and, in consequence, there had crept in grumbling, envy and jealousy.

Eddie Miller was no longer the leader; in fact there was no leader. The boys had split up into little cliques. Had Eddie sided with the great majority in condemning Mr. Roberts, his mastery of the situation would have been assured; but it would have been a mastery which would have been unto evil. As it was, his uncompromising loyalty to his teacher cost him the confidence, if not the respect, of more than two-thirds of his classmates. The breach, small though it was in the beginning, gave promise of widening with the progress of the school-year.

But there was another and a more serious cause of disunion. Among the students in Second Academic was a quiet, neat, tidy lad named Cyril Harmon. Cyril was neither a man’s boy nor a boy’s boy. Some women and a few men of a certain temperament would have been charmed with him; for in addition to good moral traits he was sedate, serious, not given to games that involved any sort of roughness, and always neatly dressed.

A legend circulated among his classmates to the effect that he had never yet worn out a single suit

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of clothes, but had simply outgrown them. Others boldly stated that once when he had left the class with a scared face and on the plea of sickness, it had all been due to a hole in his stocking, which, being something new and unimagined in his experience, had terrified him beyond measure.

It gave the entire class infinite delight to watch him dust his seat before occupying it. It was claimed that he always used the same handkerchief, which, nevertheless, as he drew it from his pocket, was ever clean and neatly folded.

Another rumor had it that young Cyril kept a collection of dolls at home, each of them arrayed with a splendor which might have put to shame Solomon in all his glory. These dresses, it was asserted with perfect seriousness, were basted and sewed and what not by Master Cyril himself, whose skill in work of that kind was recognized to such an extent in his own neighborhood that his girl acquaintances came to him with their dolls, as the elders, their mammas, went to the “Ladies’ Merchant Tailor.” Tommy Madden was authority for the statement that Cyril was so skilled in the uses of the skipping rope as to be able to “read the Bible.”