<div><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VI." id="CHAPTER_VI."></SPAN>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></SPAN></span>
<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2><h3>SERIOUS THOUGHTS.</h3></div>
<p>When the boy reached home a new and surprising change had come to him.
For the first time in his life he began to think—and what was more to
the point, to faintly see himself as he was, and the picture was not
pleasant. He had longed to be a man. He began to feel that he was almost
one, and a poorly clad and ignorant one at that. He lay awake nearly all
that night, and not only lived the party over, but more especially the
walk home with Liddy.</p>
<p>All he had cared for before was boyish sports, to do his work, and
escape wearing his best clothes. Now he began to think about those same
clothes and how ill they fitted him and how awkward they made him look,
and the more he thought about it the more he wondered how Liddy could
have been so nice to him. He vowed he would never be seen in public
again with them on. He had seen boys in the village who wore<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></SPAN></span> neat and
well-fitting garments, a starched shirt and collar that buttoned to it,
instead of being pinned to the top of a roundabout, as his was, and
thinking of them made him ashamed of himself. And then that awful gap
between his pants and boots! Then he thought of how the girls were
laughing when he came into the room at the party, and now he felt sure
they must have been making fun of him, and that made him feel worse than
ever. His coarse boots, in comparison with the nice, thin ones worn by
some of the other boys there, also haunted him. In short, he took a
mental inventory of himself, and the sum total was not pleasing.</p>
<p>All the next day he was glum and thoughtful and for a week he acted the
same. It was the birth of the man in him; the step from the happy,
care-free boy to young manhood. It was also, be it said, the beginning
of a woman's refining influence that has slowly and for countless ages
gradually lifted man from savagery to enlightenment. An evolution of
good conduct, garb and cleanliness made necessary by woman's favor, and
to win her admiration. The cynics call it vanity. So then, must they
call the evolution of the species vanity. It may be so, but call it what
you will, it's the influence that has wrought the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></SPAN></span> naked savage,
decorated with paint and feathers, and courting his wife by knocking her
senseless with a club and carrying her to a cave, into the well-dressed,
gallant, kindly, thoughtful and refined gentleman of to-day.</p>
<p>Just a little of this realizing sense of what he should be, and why,
came to the boy, and as ever will be it was a woman's face and a woman's
smiles, albeit a very young and blue-eyed one, that inspired the
thought. His parents rallied him a little about the party, but to him it
was—especially its ending, a sacred secret. Then one day he astonished
them by asking if he might have a new suit and go to the academy that
coming winter. He had never before shown any unusual eagerness for
study, and this request was surprising. For several weeks the question
was held in abeyance, though duly considered in the family councils; and
then one day at the supper-table the answer came.</p>
<p>"If the boy wants more learnin'," his father said, "by gosh, he can have
it. I never had much chance at books myself, but that ain't no reason
why he shouldn't. We'll fix ye up," he said cheerfully, with a twinkle
in his eye, "so ye won't be ashamed to go to a party again;" from which
it may be inferred that the old gentleman had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></SPAN></span> divined some things which
the boy little suspected he had.</p>
<p>When the winter term at the village academy opened, the boy was there,
his courage a good deal strengthened by a new suit that fitted and a
pair of boots that did not give the impression that he was falling
downstairs at every step. But his entry into the new school was not a
thornless path. Most of the faces were new to him, and many a good deal
older. He still felt himself what he was—a big, awkward boy, though a
boy with a determined will to study hard and make the most of his
opportunity.</p>
<p>He soon learned a good many things; one of which was that earnestness in
study did not always win the favor of either teacher or schoolmates;
that in school, as in the world, pleasant manners and flattering words
counted for more than devotion to duty. He also learned that such a
thing as favoritism between master and pupil existed, and that the
poorest scholar often stood nearest the teacher's heart. The master, Mr.
Webber, he discovered, had a monstrous bump of self-esteem. He was a
small man, not larger than the boy, who was sixteen, and large for his
age, and who, as big boys will, cherished a sort of contempt for small
men. It is possible that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></SPAN></span> the boy was entirely wrong in his estimate of
the principal. No doubt that worthy, judged from an adult standpoint,
was the most courtly and diplomatic pedagogue that ever let his favorite
pupils whisper all they pleased, and banged the floor with the other
sinners; but, to the boy, he seemed a little, arrogant bit of
bumptiousness, who strutted about the schoolroom and was especially fond
of hearing himself read aloud. "The Raven" was his favorite selection,
and he read it no less than thirteen times during one term.</p>
<p>The boy did not feel at home at the academy. It was so unlike the dear
old district school. But he felt it was a good training for him, and he
watched the older scholars and studied hard. The girls all wore long
dresses, and, as a rule, were just budding into young womanhood. Of
these he was a trifle afraid, especially of Liddy, who was one of the
prettiest. She was also one of the best scholars, and in her studies
easily a leader. It acted as a spur to the boy, whose secret though
ardent admiration had originally been the motive force that brought him
to the academy. His pride was such that he was ashamed to have her
surpass him, and for her to solve a problem in algebra that he had
failed on, humiliated him.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>Another thing he learned that winter besides his lessons, was that
stylish clothes and genteel manners in a young man counted far more in a
girl's estimation than proficiency in study. There was one pupil in
particular, named James White, who, though dull in lessons, was popular
with the girls. He was the fop of the school, wore the nattiest of
garments, patent-leather shoes, gold watch, bosom pin, seal ring, and
was blessed with a nice little moustache. He also smoked cigars with all
the <i>sang froid</i> of experienced men. It might be said that he prided
himself on his style, but that was all he had for consolation, for he
was always at the foot of his class. He also showered a deal of
attention and candy on Liddy. It is needless to say the boy hated him,
and once gave him a good thrashing for calling him a "greeny." It was
true enough, but then a boy who is a greenhorn doesn't enjoy being
informed of it by a better-dressed stupid who tries to cut him out!</p>
<p>There was one other comfort the boy had: he was often enabled to give a
far better recitation than White could. On these occasions a faint look
of admiration in Liddy's blue eyes was like a rift of sunshine on a
cloudy day to him. When the standing of all pupils was read at the
middle<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></SPAN></span> of the term, the boy was away ahead of White, and felt almost as
proud as the night he walked home with Liddy from his first party. It
cheered him a deal in his hard fight against ignorance and the
awkwardness that, like hayseed from the farm, still clung to him. How
much the few quiet attentions and pleasant words Liddy favored him with
encouraged him, no one but himself ever knew. He never told Liddy even,
till a good many years after. Toward the end of the term this studious
little lady gave a party, and with the rest the boy was invited. It
gladdened his heart, of course, but when the day before the affair, and
as they were all leaving the hill upon which the academy stood, she
quietly said to him: "Come early, I want you to help me get ready to
play a new game called questions," he felt like a king. It is needless
to say he went early.</p>
<p>The new game proved a success. It consisted of as many numbered cards as
there were players, distributed among them by chance. The holders of
these were each in turn to give an answer to any question asked
beginning with "Who," the selection being made by the chance drawing of
one of the same series of numbers from a hat. To illustrate:<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></SPAN></span> If there
were thirty boys and girls playing the same game, cards bearing the
numbers from one to thirty were distributed among them.</p>
<p>As many more bearing the same numbers were retained by the leader, who
would start the game by asking, for instance: "Who has the largest
mouth?" A number would be drawn from the hat and the boy or girl who
held the duplicate number was by this means identified as having a
suitable mouth for pie. He or she in turn was then at liberty to get
square by asking another question also beginning with "who," and so on.</p>
<p>"Questions" scored a hit and made no end of fun. Some one asked: "Who is
the biggest fool in the room?" and when the number was called and Master
White proved to hold the duplicate, the boy smiled, for retribution
occasionally overtakes those who wear too fine clothes. A young folks'
party in those days would be no party at all unless there were some
kissing games, and when toward the close of this one, somebody proposed
they wind up with "Copenhagen," all seemed willing.</p>
<p>When the little gathering had departed, the boy made bold to stay a few
minutes longer and hold a most delightful though brief chat with Liddy.
They talked over a lot of mutually interesting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></SPAN></span> subjects, including
their opinions of Mr. Webber, and if that worthy could have heard what
they said it might have reduced his bumptiousness just a trifle. Liddy
also assured the boy that she did not care a row of pins for Jim White,
and considered him too awfully stuck up for endurance, all of which,
mingled with a few sweet smiles, caused our young friend to feel that
his future life at the academy might be pleasanter for him.</p>
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