Bert Lloyd's Boyhood Part 21

"You and Lloyd were on the same side, were you not?"

"Yes, sir," replied Teter.

"Well, who were the leaders of the other side? I wish to know."

"Graham and Wilding, sir," answered Teter.

"Graham and Wilding, come forward," called the doctor, sternly; and the two boys, looking very conscious and shamefaced, reluctantly left their seats and took their places before the throne.

"Now, then, I wish to be informed of the whole matter," said the doctor.

Bert looked at Teter, and Teter looked at Bert.

"You tell him," he whispered; "you know most about it."

Thereupon, with the utmost frankness, Bert proceeded to tell his story, beginning at his first talk with Ernest Linton.

The doctor listened intently, his inscrutable face revealing nothing as to how the story impressed him. When Bert had finished, he turned to Graham and Wilding, and asked them:

"Is Lloyd's statement correct? or have you anything to add?"

They hung their heads, and were silent.

The doctor looked very hard at them for a moment, during which the silence was so intense that the fall of a pin upon the floor would have been heard; then, turning to the school, he spoke as follows:

"The events that have just transpired have hastened a decision that has been forming in my mind for some time past. I was not unaware of this practice of which Lloyd has just spoken, but deemed it well not to interfere until my interference should seem necessary. That time, in my judgment, has arrived, and I have determined that there shall be no more of this hoisting. Be it, therefore, distinctly understood by the pupils of this school, that any future attempts at the hoisting of new boys will incur punishment, and possibly even expulsion from the school. You will now resume work."

A subdued murmur of applause arose from the anti-hoisting party at the conclusion of the doctor's announcement. They had more than carried their point; for, intending only to protect Paul Linton, they had obtained the complete abolition of the practice. Bert was greatly elated, and could talk of nothing else when he got home. Father, and mother, and sister, had to listen to the fullest details of the struggle and its surprising issue, and Bert fairly outdid himself in the vigour and minuteness of his description. When the fountain of his eloquence at last ran dry, Mr. Lloyd had a chance to say, with one of his expressive smiles:

"And so my boy has come out as a reformer. Well, Bert, dear, you have taken the first step in the most thankless and trying of all careers, and yet I would not discourage you for the world. I would a thousand times rather have you a reformer than an opposer of reforms. I wonder what work G.o.d has in store for you."

CHAPTER XXIII.

PRIZE WINNING AND LOSING.

There were many ways in which the methods employed at Dr. Johnston's school were unique. The system of registering attendance, proficiency, and conduct has been already fully explained. It was hardly possible that this could have been more perfect. No boy could be absent without being missed, and an explanation or excuse of a thoroughly satisfactory nature was required the next day. No mistake could occur as to the standing of the pupils in the different cla.s.ses. The record of each day was all comprehensive. It const.i.tuted a photograph, so to speak, of each pupil's doings, in so far as they related to his school, and the doctor was exceedingly proud of the journals, which he kept with scrupulous care and neatness.

Another feature of the school, peculiar to itself, was the system by which a knowledge of arithmetic was fostered, and the faculty of using it quickly was developed. The whole of one morning each week was devoted to this. The scholars were grouped in cla.s.ses according to their varying proficiency, care being taken to give each one a fair chance by a.s.sociating him with those who were about as far advanced as himself.

These cla.s.ses were then arranged upon seats very much after the fashion of a Sunday school, save that instead of a teacher being in their centre, they were placed around a backless chair, in such a manner that it was equally convenient of access to all. Each boy had his slate and pencil in readiness.

The school having been called to order, the doctor then proceeded to read out to the senior cla.s.s a problem in proportion or compound interest, or whatever it might be, and this they hurriedly scribbled down on their slates. If they did not understand it fully at first, he would read it again, but of course never gave any explanations. So soon as a scholar had clearly grasped the problem to be solved he set to work at its solution with all his might, and it was a most interesting spectacle to watch when the whole cla.s.s, with heads bent close to the slates, made their squeaking, scratching pencils fly over them. Every possible shade of mental condition, from confident knowledge to foreboding bewilderment, would be expressed in their faces. The instant one of them had completed his work, he banged his slate down upon the backless chair, with the writing turned under. The others followed as best they could, and all the slates being down, they awaited the doctor's coming around to their cla.s.s again.

When Dr. Johnston had completed the round of the cla.s.ses, and given each a problem, he would, after a pause, call upon each in turn to read the answers as set down upon the slate. The boy whose slate was first on the chair, and therefore at the bottom of the pile, would read his answer first. If it were correct, he scored a point, and none of the others were called upon. If incorrect, the next to him would read his answer, and so on until a correct answer was given, and a point scored by somebody. Only one point could be made each round, and so the unsuccessful ones had to console themselves with the hope of having better luck next time. Not more than four or five rounds would be had each day, and it rarely happened that the same boy would be successful in all of them. Three points were considered a very good day's work, and if a boy made four points he was apt to feel that the prize in that cla.s.s was as good as his, until some other boy made four points also, and thereby lessened his chances.

It did not always happen that being first down with his slate a.s.sured the scholar of scoring a point. A slight mistake in his addition, subtraction, or division might have thrown him off the track, and then number two, or maybe number three, would come in with a correct answer and triumphantly score the point, success being all the sweeter, because of being somewhat unexpected.

Now this kind of compet.i.tion suited Bert thoroughly. He was as quick as any of his companions, cooler than many of them, and had by this time acquired a very good understanding of the chief principles of arithmetic. He greatly enjoyed the working against time, which was the distinctive feature of the contest. It brought out his mental powers to their utmost, and he looked forward to "arithmetic day," with an eagerness that was not caused entirely by what his father had promised him in the event of his being successful in carrying off a prize.

In the same cla.s.s with him were Frank Bowser, Ernest Linton, and a half-dozen other boys of similar age and standing in the school. He had no fear of Frank or Ernest. They were no match for him either as to knowledge, or rapidity of work; but there was a boy in the cla.s.s who seemed fully his equal in both respects. This was Levi Cohen, a dark-skinned, black-haired chap, whose Jewish features were in entire harmony with his Jewish name. He was indeed a Jew, and, young though he was, had all the depth, self-control, and steadfastness of purpose of that strange race. He also had, as the sequel will show their indifference as to the rightness of the means employed so long as the end in view was gained.

The school had been in session for more than a month, and those who were particularly interested in the arithmetic compet.i.tions were already calculating their chances of success. In Bert's cla.s.s it was clear beyond a doubt that the contest lay between him and Levi Cohen. It rarely happened that they did not monopolise the points between them, and so far, they had divided them pretty evenly. One day Bert would score three and Levi two, and then the next week Levi would have three, and Bert two, and so it went on from week to week.

As the second month drew to a close, Bert began to gain upon his rival.

He nearly always made the majority of the points, and was now at least six ahead. Then suddenly the tide turned and Levi seemed to have it all his own way. The quickness with which he got the answers was bewildering. Nay, more, it was even suspicious. One familiar with the details of the problems given, and the amount of work a full working out would require, could not help being struck by the fact that Cohen seemed to arrive at his answer after a remarkably small expenditure of slate-pencil. Time and again he would have his slate down at least half-a-minute before Bert did his, although previous to this sudden change in his fortunes, the difference in time between them had been rarely more than a few seconds. Then again it was noticeable that he took the utmost care that none of the others should see what was on his slate. He did his work in a corner, hunched up over it so that it was well concealed, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed his slate away from the pile at the very first opportunity.

Bert noticed all these things, and they perplexed him quite as much as Cohen's rapid gain alarmed him. He soon became convinced that there was something wrong, that Cohen was doing crooked work; but, puzzle his brains as he might, he could not get at the bottom of the mystery. Frank and Ernest fully shared his suspicions, and they had many a talk over the matter. Frank thought that Cohen must have the answers written on a piece of paper which he managed to peep at somehow while all the other boys were absorbed in working out the problems; but although he on several occasions purposely refrained from doing anything himself in order to watch Cohen the more closely, he failed to find the slightest ground for his suspicions in that direction. Then Bert put forward his theory.

"I'll tell what it is Frank: Cohen must learn the answers off by heart, and then he sets them down without working out the whole sum."

"Shouldn't wonder a bit," said Frank. "He's got a great memory, I know, and we always can tell from what part of the arithmetic Dr. Johnston is going to get the sums."

"But how can we make sure of it, Frank?" inquired Bert, anxiously.

"The only way is to get hold of his slate, and see how he works his sums out," replied Frank.

"Yes; but he takes precious good care not to let anybody see how he does them."

"So he does; but we've got to find out some way, and I'm going to do it, so sure as my name's Frank Bowser."

"How'll you manage it, Frank?" asked Bert, brightening up; for he really was a good deal troubled over Cohen's continued success, particularly as he felt so strongly that there was something wrong at the bottom of it.

"I don't know yet, Bert; but I'll find out a way somehow. See if you can't think of a plan yourself."

"I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll ask father about it," said Bert, in a tone that implied perfect confidence in Mr. Lloyd's ability to furnish a solution for any difficulty.

Accordingly, that evening, Bert laid the whole case before his father, who listened with judicial gravity, and then proceeded to ask a question or two:

"You feel quite sure that Cohen does not take the time to work out the sums properly?"

"Yes, father; perfectly sure."

"Then why don't you inform Dr. Johnston of your suspicions, and he will make an examination into the matter?"

"Oh, father!" exclaimed Bert, with a look of profound surprise. "You wouldn't have me turn tattle-tale, would you?"

"No, Bert, dear; indeed, I would not, although you should lose a dozen prizes. I said that simply to see what you would think of it, and I am glad you answered me as I expected you would. But, Bert, you have asked my advice in this matter. Did you think of asking somebody else who is infinitely wiser than I am?"

Bert understood his father at once.

"No, father; I did not. I never thought of it," he answered, frankly.

"Then had you not better do so when you are saying your prayers to-night?"

"I will, father. I'm so glad you reminded me." And with that Bert dropped the subject for the time.