Bert Lloyd's Boyhood Part 8

"Say, sonny, whats yer name?" he asked, with unhesitating abruptness.

Bert looked the questioner all over before replying. He was a short, stout, stubble-haired chap, evidently a year or two older than himself, with a broad, good-humoured face, and the inspection being, upon the whole, satisfactory, Bert replied, very pleasantly:

"Bert Lloyd--and what's yours?"

Ignoring the question put to him, the other boy gave a sort of grunt that might be taken as an expression of approval of his new schoolmate's name, and then said:

"Guess you don't live down our way; never seen you before, that I know of."

"I live in Fort Street. Where do you live?" replied Bert, giving question for question.

"I'm a West-ender," said the other, meaning that his home was in the western part of the city.

"But whats your name?" asked Bert again.

"Oh, my name's Frank Bowser," was the careless reply. "But everybody calls me 'Shorty,' and you may as well, too."

"All right," said Bert. And the two began to feel quite good friends at once.

As the morning pa.s.sed, and Bert came to feel more at home, he took in the details of his surroundings. Mr. Garrison's school consisted of some fifty boys, ranging in age from sixteen downward, Bert being about the youngest of them all. They all belonged to the better cla.s.s, and were, upon the whole, a very presentable lot of pupils. Scanning their countenances curiously as they sat at their desks or stood up in rows before the teacher to recite, Bert noticed more than one face that he instinctively liked, and, being charmed with Mr. Garrison, and well pleased with his new friend "Shorty," his first impressions were decidedly favourable.

He had, of course, nothing to do that morning, save to look about him, but Mr. Garrison gave him a list of books to be procured, and lessons to be learned in them before the school broke up for the day; and with this in his pocket he went home in excellent spirits, to tell them all there, how well he had got on his first day in school.

CHAPTER XI.

SCHOOL LIFE AT MR. GARRISON'S.

Bert had not been long at Mr. Garrison's school before he discovered that it was conducted on what might fairly be described as "go-as-you-please" principles. A sad lack of system was its chief characteristic. He meant well enough by his pupils, and was constantly making spurts in the direction of reform and improvement, but as often falling back into the old irregular ways.

The fact of the matter was that he not only was not a schoolmaster by instinct, but he had no intention of being one by profession. He had simply adopted teaching as a temporary expedient to tide over a financial emergency, and intended to drop it so soon as his object was accomplished. His heart was in his profession, not in his school, and the work of teaching was at best an irksome task, to be got through with each day as quickly as possible. Had Mr. Lloyd fully understood this, he would never have placed Bert there. But he did not; and, moreover, he was interested in young Mr. Garrison, who had had many difficulties to encounter in making his way, and he wished to help him.

In the first place, Mr. Garrison kept no record of attendance, either of the whole school, or of the different cla.s.ses into which it was divided.

A boy might come in an hour after the proper time, or be away for a whole day without either his lateness or his absence being observed. As a consequence "meeching"--that is, taking a holiday without leave from either parents or teachers--was shamefully common. Indeed, there was hardly a day that one or more boys did not "meech." If by any chance they were missed, it was easy to get out of the difficulty by making some excuse about having been sick, or mother having kept them at home to do some work, and so forth. Schoolboys are always fertile in excuses, and, only too often, indifferent as to the quant.i.ty of truth these may contain.

Another curious feature of Mr. Garrison's system, or rather lack of system, was that he kept no record of the order of standing in the cla.s.ses; and so, when the cla.s.s in geography, for instance, was called to recite, the boys would come tumbling pell-mell out of their seats, and crowd tumultuously to the s.p.a.ce in front of the desk, with the invariable result that the smaller boys would be sent to the bottom of the cla.s.s, whether they deserved to be there or not. Then as to the hearing of the lesson, there was absolutely no rule about it. Sometimes the questions would be divided impartially among the whole cla.s.s.

Sometimes they would all be asked of a single boy, and if he happened to answer correctly,--which, however, was an extremely rare occurrence,--the cla.s.s would be dismissed without one of the others being questioned.

Another peculiarity of Mr. Garrison's was his going out on business for an hour or more at a time, and leaving the school in charge of one of the older boys, who would exercise the authority thus conferred upon him in a lax and kindly, or severe and cruel manner, according to his disposition. One of the boys generally chosen for this duty was a big, good-hearted fellow named Munro; another was an equally big, but sour-dispositioned chap named Siteman; and whenever Mr. Garrison showed signs of going out, there was always intense excitement among the boys, to see who would be appointed monitor, and lively satisfaction, or deep disappointment, according to the choice made.

It was a little while, of course, before Bert found all this out, and in the meantime he made good headway in the school, because his father took care that his lessons were well learned every evening before he went to bed; and Mr. Garrison soon discovered that whoever else might fail, there was one boy in Bert's cla.s.ses that could be depended upon for a right answer, and that was Bert himself.

There was another person who noticed Bert's ready accuracy, and that was "Shorty" Bowser.

"Say, Bert," said he one day, "how is that you always have your lessons down so fine? You never seem to trip up at all."

"Because father always sees that I learn 'em," answered Bert. "If I don't learn 'em in the evening, I've got to do it before breakfast in the morning."

"I wish my dad 'ud do as much for me; but he don't seem to care a cent whether I ever learn 'em or not," said poor Shorty, ruefully. For he was pretty sure to miss two out of every three questions asked him, and Mr.

Garrison thought him one of his worst scholars.

"Won't your mother help you, then?" asked Bert, with interest.

"Got no mother," was the reply, while Shorty's eyes shone suspiciously.

"Mother's been dead this good while."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Bert, in tones of genuine sympathy that went right to Frank Bowser's heart, and greatly strengthened the liking he had felt from the first for his new schoolmate.

It was not long before he gave proof of what he thought of Bert in a very practical way. They were for the most part in the same cla.s.ses, and it soon became evident that Shorty felt very proud of his friend's accuracy at recitation. That he should remain at the foot while Bert worked his way up steadily toward the head of the cla.s.s, did not arouse the slightest feeling of jealousy in his honest heart; but, on the contrary, a frank admiration that did him infinite credit.

But it was just the other way with Bob Brandon, an overgrown, lanky boy, who seemed to have taken a dislike to Bert from the first, and seized every opportunity of acting disagreeably toward him. Being so much smaller, Bert had to endure his slights as best he could, but he found it very hard, and particularly so that Bob should prevent him from getting his proper place in his cla.s.s. Again and again would Bert pa.s.s Bob, who, indeed, rarely knew his lessons; but so sure as the cla.s.s rea.s.sembled, Bob would roughly shoulder his way toward the top and Bert would have to take a lower position, unless Mr. Garrison happened to notice what was taking place and readjusted matters, which, however, did not often occur.

This sort of thing had been going on for some time, until at last one day Bert felt so badly over it that when he went back to his seat he buried his head in his hands and burst out crying, much to the surprise of Shorty, who at once leaned over and asked, with much concern:

"What's the matter, Bert? Missed your lesson?"

Bert checked his tears and told his trouble.

"Sho! that's what's the matter, hey? I guess I'll fix Bob as sure as my name's Bowser."

"What'll you do?" asked Bert. "Tell the master?"

"No, sir. No tattling for me," replied Shorty, vigorously. "I'll just punch his head for him, see if I don't."

And he was as good as his word. Immediately after the dismissal of the school, while the boys still lingered on the playground, Shorty stalked up to Bob Brandon, and told him if he didn't stop shoving Bert Lloyd out of his proper place in the cla.s.ses he would punch his head. Whereat Bob Brandon laughed contemptuously, and was rewarded with a blow on the face that fairly made him stagger. Then, of course, there was a fight, the boys forming a ring around the combatants, and Bert holding his champion's coat and hat, and hardly knowing whether to cry or to cheer.

The fight did not last long. Bob was the taller, but Frank the stouter of the two. Bob, like most bullies, was a coward, but Frank was as plucky as he was strong. Burning with righteous wrath, Frank went at his opponent hammer and tongs, and after a few minutes' ineffective parrying and dodging, the latter actually ran out of the ring, thoroughly beaten, leaving Frank in possession of the field, to receive the applause of his companions, and particularly of Bert, who gave him a warm hug, saying gratefully:

"Dear, good Shorty. I'm so glad you beat him."

That fight united the two boys in firmer bonds of friends.h.i.+p than ever, especially as it proved quite effective so far as Bob Brandon was concerned, as he needed no other lesson. It was curious how Bert and Frank reacted upon one another. At first the influence proceeded mainly from Bert to Frank, the latter being much impressed by his friend's attention to his lessons and good behaviour in school, and somewhat stirred up to emulate these virtues. But after Bert had been going to the school for some little time, and the novelty had all worn off, he began to lose some of his ardour and to imitate Frank's happy-go-lucky carelessness. Instead of being one of the first boys in the school of a morning, he would linger and loiter on the playground until he would be among those who were the last to take their places. He also began to take less interest in his lessons, and in his standing in the cla.s.ses, and but for the care exercised at home would have gone to school very ill prepared.

Frank Bowser was not by any means a bad boy. He had been carelessly brought up, and was by nature of rather a reckless disposition, but he generally preferred right to wrong, and could, upon the whole, be trusted to behave himself under ordinary circ.u.mstances, at all events.

His influence upon Bert, while it certainly would not help him much, would not harm him seriously. He did get him into trouble one day, however, in a way that Bert was long in forgetting.

The winter had come, and over in one corner of the playground was a slide of unusual length and excellence, upon which the Garrison boys had fine times every day before and after school. Coming up one morning early, on purpose to enjoy this slide, Bert was greatly disappointed to find it in possession of a crowd of roughs from the upper streets, who clearly intended to keep it all to themselves so long as they pleased.

While Bert, standing at a safe distance, was watching the usurpers with longing eyes, Shorty came up, and, taking in the situation, said:

"Let 'em alone, Bert; I know of another slide just as good, a couple of squares off. Let's go over there."

"But, isn't it most school time?" objected Bert.

"Why, no," replied Shorty. "There's ten minutes yet. Come along." And thus a.s.sured, Bert complied.

The slide was farther away than Shorty had said, but proved to be very good when they did reach it, and they enjoyed it so much that the time slipped away unheeded, until presently the town clock on the hill above them boomed out ten, in notes of solemn warning.