Then he took hold of my shoulder and turned my back round towards him.
He said I had better bend down my head a little, and took hold of the neck of my shirt to keep me steady. I shut my teeth together tight.
At that very minute Bubby Short cried out, "Master! Master! Stop! Don"t!
He didn"t do it! He didn"t kill it! I know who! I"ll tell! I will! I will! I don"t care what Tom Cush does! "T was Tom Cush killed it!"
The master didn"t say one word. But he handed me my jacket.
The boys all clapped and gave three cheers, and he let them.
Then he said to me, whispering, "Is this so, William?" And I said, low, "Yes, sir."
Then he took hold of my hand and led me to my seat. And when I sat down he put his hand on my shoulder just as softly,--it made me remember the way my mother used to before she died, and, says he, "My dear boy," then stopped and began again, "My dear boy," and stopped again. If he"d been a boy I should have thought he was going to cry himself. But of course a man wouldn"t. And what should he cry for? It wasn"t he that almost had a whipping. At last he told me to come to his room after supper. Then Bubby Short was called up to the platform.
Now I will tell you how Bubby Short found out about it.
He sleeps in a little bed in a little bit of a room that lets out of Tom"s. "T isn"t much bigger than a closet. But it is just right for him.
That morning when Tom got up so early and threw pebbles at me, Bubby Short had been keeping awake with the toothache. And he heard Tom telling another boy about the rabbit.
He made believe sleep. But once, while Tom was dressing himself, he peeped out from under the bedquilt, with one eye, to see a black-and-blue spot, that Tom said he hit his head against a post and made, when he was running.
But they caught him peeping out, and were dreadful mad because he heard, and said if he told one single word they would flog him. But he says he would have told before, if he had known it had been laid to me.
Wasn"t he a nice little fellow to tell?
O, I was so glad when the boys all clapped! And when we were let out, they came and shook hands with Bubby Short and me. Great boys and all.
Mr. Augustus, and Dorry, and all. And the master told me how glad he was that he could keep on thinking me to be an honest boy.
Now aren"t you glad you didn"t feel sorry?
Your affectionate grandchild,
WILLIAM HENRY.
The next time I went down to the farm I was told, of course, all about the foregoing letters,--how they were received, and what effect they produced in the family when they were read. Grandmother, however, gives a happy account of the reception and reading of them in the following reply, which she wrote soon after they were received.
_Grandmother"s Letter to William Henry, in reply._
MY DEAR LITTLE BOY,--
Your poor old grandmother was so glad to get those letters, after such long waiting! My dear child, we were anxious; but now we are pleased. I was afraid you were down with the measles, for they"re about. Your aunt Phebe thinks you had "em when you were a month old; but I know better.
Your father was anxious himself at not hearing; though he didn"t show it any. But I could see it plain enough. As soon as he brought the letters in, I set a light in the window to let your aunt Phebe know she was wanted. She came running across the yard, all of a breeze. You know how your aunt Phebe always comes running in.
"What is it?" says she. "Letters from Billy? I mistrusted "t was letters from Billy. In his own handwriting? Must have had "em pretty light.
Measles commonly leave the eyes very bad."
But you know how your aunt Phebe goes running on. Your father came in, and sat down in his rocking-chair,--your mother"s chair, dear. Your sister was sewing on her doll"s cloak by the little table. She sews remarkably well for a little girl.
"Now, Phebe," says I, "read loud, and do speak every word plain." I put on my gla.s.ses, and drew close up, for she does speak her words so fast.
I have to look her right in the face.
At the beginning, where you speak about being whipped, your father"s rocking-chair stopped stock still. You might have heard a pin drop.
Georgianna said, "O dear!" and down dropped the doll"s cloak. "Pshaw!"
said Aunt Phebe, ""t isn"t very likely our Billy"s been whipped."
Then she read on and on, and not one of us spoke. Your father kept his arms folded up, and never raised his eyes. I had to look away, towards the last, for I couldn"t see through my gla.s.ses. Georgianna cried. And, when the end came, we all wiped our eyes.
"Now what"s the use," said Aunt Phebe, "for folks to cry before they"re hurt?"
"But you almost cried yourself," said Georgianna. "Your voice was different, and your nose is red now." And that was true.
After your sister was in bed, and Aunt Phebe gone, your father says to me: "Grandma, the boy"s like his mother." And he took a walk around the place, and then went off to his bedroom without even opening his night"s paper. If ever a man set store by his boy, that man is your father. And, O Billy, if you had done anything mean, or disgraced yourself in any way, what a dreadful blow "t would have been to us all!
The measles come with a cough. The first thing is to drive "em out. Get a nurse. That is, if you catch them. They"re a natural sickness, and one sensible old woman is better than half a dozen doctors. Saffron"s good to drive "em out.
Aunt Phebe is knitting you a comforter. As if she hadn"t family enough of her own to do for!
From your loving
GRANDMOTHER.
I think this the proper place to insert the following letter from Dorry Baker to his sister. I am sorry we have so few of Dorry"s letters. Two very entertaining ones will be given presently, describing a visit Dorry made to William Henry"s home. The two boys, as we shall see, soon after their acquaintance, grew to be remarkably good friends. Mr. Baker, Dorry"s father, hearing his son"s glowing accounts of William Henry"s family, took a little trip to Summer Sweeting place on purpose to see them, and was so well pleased with Grandmother, Mr. Carver, Uncle Jacob, and the rest, as to suggest to his wife that they should buy some land in the vicinity, and turn farmers. He and Grandmother had a very pleasant talk about their boys; and not long after, knowing, I suppose, that it would gratify the old lady, he sent her some of Dorry"s letters, that she might have the pleasure of reading for herself what Dorry had written about her Billy, and about Billy"s people and Billy"s home.
Perhaps, too, Mr. Baker was a little bit proud of the smart letters his son could write.
_Dorry"s Letter to his Sister._
DEAR SIS,--
If mother"s real clever, I want you to ask her something right away. But if it"s baking-day, or washing-day, or company"s coming off, or preserves going on, or anything"s upset down below; or if she"s got a headache or a dress-maker, or anything else that"s bad,--then wait.
I want you to ask her if I may bring home a boy to spend Sat.u.r.day. Not a very big boy,--do very well to "Philopene" with you: won"t put her out a bit.
If you don"t like him at first, you will afterwards. When he first came we used to plague him on account of his looks. He"s got a furious head of hair, and freckles. But we don"t think at all about his looks now. If anything, we like his looks.
He"s just as pleasant and gen"rous, and not a mean thing about him. I don"t believe he would tell a lie to save his life. I know he wouldn"t.
He"s always willing to help everybody. And had just as lief give anything away as not. And when he plays, he plays fair. Some boys cheat to make their side beat. You don"t catch William Henry at any such mean business. All the boys believe every word he says. Teachers too.
I will tell you how he made me ashamed of myself. Me and some other boys.
One day he had a box come from home. "T was his birthday. It was full of good things. Says I to the boys, "Now, maybe, if we hadn"t plagued him so, he would give us some of his goodies."