Bert Lloyd's Boyhood Part 22

That night, ere he went to bed, Bert laid the matter before his Father in heaven, just as he had done before his father upon earth. He had imbibed his ideas of prayer from what he heard from his own father at family wors.h.i.+p. Mr. Lloyd's conception of prayer was that it could not be too simple, too straightforward. It often seemed as though G.o.d were present in the room, and he was talking with him, so natural, so sincere, so direct were his pet.i.tions. And Bert had learned to pray in the same manner. A listener might at times be tempted to smile at the frankness, the navete of Bert's requests; but they were uttered not more in boyish earnest than in truest reverence by the pet.i.tioner.

The next morning, when Bert came down to the breakfast-room, he was evidently in the best of spirits.

"It's all right, father," said he. "I asked G.o.d to show me what's the best thing to do, and I'm sure He will."

"That's it, Bert; that's the way to look at it," replied Mr. Lloyd, with a smile of warm approval.

On reaching the school Bert found Frank awaiting him.

"I've got it! I've got it!" he shouted, so soon as Bert appeared. "I know how Levi manages it now."

"How is it?" asked Bert, eagerly.

"Why, he learns all the answers off by heart, and then doesn't work out the sums at all, but just pretends to, and slaps down the answer before the rest of us fellows are half through," explained Frank.

"To be sure, Frank; you know I thought of that before. But how are we going to stop him?"

"That's just what I'm coming to. When the time comes to read the answers I'm going to take up the slates, just as if mine was down first; and then, if Levi's been playing sharp on us, I'll expose him."

"What a brick you are!" exclaimed Bert, admiringly, patting Frank on the back. "That's a grand plan of yours, and I do believe it's the way G.o.d is going to answer my prayer."

"Answer your prayer, Bert? Why, what do you mean?" inquired Frank.

"Why, you know, Frank, last night when I was saying my prayers, I told G.o.d all about it, and now I believe He's going to make it all right. You just see if He doesn't."

Frank was evidently very much struck with the idea of his being chosen by G.o.d to answer Bert's prayer. It was quite a new thought, and made a deep impression upon him. He was a clear and strong, if not very rapid, reasoner, and his reasoning in this case led him to the conclusion that if G.o.d thought that much of him he certainly ought to think more of G.o.d.

He did not talk about it to anyone, but for many days his mind was occupied with thoughts of this nature, and their direct result was to lead him nearer to the kingdom.

At the very first opportunity Frank put his plan into execution.

Arithmetic day came round, the cla.s.s gathered in its place, the first sum was read out to them, and before Bert was half through working it out, Levi Cohen placed his slate softly upon the chair, and leaned back in his seat with a sly smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. Frank glanced up from his work, gave Bert a meaning look, and then dropped his slate upon Cohen's with a loud bang. The others followed more slowly, and presently the time came for the answers to be read.

Before Cohen could leave his corner, Frank rose up, seized the pile of slates, turned them over, and examined the first intently, while Bert watched him with breathless expectancy, and Cohen, at first too surprised to act, sprang forward to wrest it from his hands. But Frank moved out of his reach, and at the same time, with a triumphant smile, exhibited the face of the slate to the rest of the cla.s.s, saying, in a loud whisper:

"Look, boys, that's the way he works them out."

Dr. Johnston noticed the slight commotion this created, but he was too far away to see clearly what it meant, so he called out:

"Why does not cla.s.s six read their answers?"

Cohen stood up, and held up his hand.

"Well, Cohen, what is it?" asked the doctor.

"Please, sir, Bowser has taken my slate, and won't give it to me,"

answered Cohen, in a whining voice.

"Bowser, what's the meaning of this? What are you doing with Cohen's slate?" demanded the doctor, frowning darkly.

Frank did not look a bit frightened, but still holding on to the slate, which Cohen was making ineffectual efforts to regain, replied, in respectful tones:

"May I hand you the slate first, sir?"

At these words Cohen turned ashy pale, and Dr. Johnston, realising that there must be something going on that required explanation, ordered Frank to bring all the slates up to him.

With radiant face Frank proceeded to obey, giving Bert a triumphant look as he pa.s.sed by him, while Cohen shrank back into his corner, and bit his nails as though he would devour his finger tips. Taking up Cohen's slate, the doctor scrutinised it carefully. One glance was sufficient. A deep flush spread over his dark face, his eyes lighted up threateningly, and in his sternest tones he called out:

"Cohen, come here!"

Amid the expectant hush of the school, none but cla.s.s six knowing what was the matter, Cohen, looking as though he would give his right hand to be able to sink through the floor, walked slowly up into the dreadful presence of the angered master. Holding up the slate before him, Dr.

Johnston asked:

"Is this your slate, sir?"

Cohen gave it a cowering glance, and said, faintly:

"Yes, sir."

"How long has this been going on?" thundered the doctor.

Cohen made no reply.

"Answer me, sir, at once. How long has this been going on?" repeated the doctor.

"I don't quite know, sir; but not very long," faltered out Cohen.

With an exclamation of disgust, Dr. Johnston turned from him, and, holding the slate up high so that all the school might see it, relieved the curiosity of the scholars, now at fever pitch, by addressing them thus:

"Cohen has just been detected in one of the most contemptible tricks that has come under my observation since I have been master of this school. He has evidently been committing to memory the answers to the problems that would be given out, and instead of doing the work properly has been scratching down a few figures, then writing the answers, and so finis.h.i.+ng long before any of the other scholars. I need hardly say that this is not only a most contemptible trick, as I have already said, but a serious blow at the principles of fair play and justice which should regulate the winning of prizes in this school. I therefore feel bound to express my indignation at Cohen's offence in the most decided manner."

Turning to Cohen: "You, sir, shall stand upon the floor for punishment.

All the points scored by you already this term will be taken from you, and you will not be permitted to compete for any prize until I shall so determine."

A kind of subdued whistle rose from the boys when they heard the doctor's severe, and yet not too severe, sentence. Cohen was no favourite with them; and yet they could not help some pity for him, as thoroughly cowed and crushed he stood before them all, the very picture of misery. Bert's tender heart was so touched by his abject appearance, that he half relented at his exposure. But Frank was troubled by no such second thoughts. The unexpectedly complete success of his scheme filled him with delight. It had accomplished two objects, both of which gave him keen pleasure. Bert's most dangerous rival for the prize had been put out of the way, and Cohen, whom he cordially disliked, had been well punished for his knavery.

With Cohen disqualified, Bert had a comparatively easy time of it for the rest of the term. He usually managed to secure four out of the five points obtainable, and steadily added to his score until at last there was no chance of anyone beating him, and he could look forward with comfortable confidence to the prize that meant so much in his case. A few days before Christmas the results were declared, and the prizes awarded, and although Bert gained only the one upon which his heart had been set, while other boys carried off two, and even three, he envied none of them. Their prizes meant nothing more perhaps than the brightly-bound books which the doctor selected with special reference to boyish preferences. But _his_ prize meant more than a book. It meant a pony. And so if he was the happiest boy in all the land of Acadia it was not without good reason. Frank was hardly less jubilant, for he had gained his prize, and there was a hope taking strong hold upon his heart, that if fortune was kind to him, there might be a pony for him as well as for Bert.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A CHAPTER ON PONIES.

It was a proud day for Bert when he came home from school, bearing a handsome volume of Captain Gordon c.u.mming's Adventures in Africa, and he felt as though he could scarcely wait for his father's return from the office, so eager was he to show him his prize. As it was, he watched impatiently for him, and so soon as he came in sight rushed toward him, holding the book above his head, and shouting:

"I've won it. I've won the prize."