Tom Moore Part 2

"w.i.l.l.y shall stay after school, also."

"Ah-h-h!" remarked d.i.c.ky, mollified at the prospect of his unkind fate being shared by an old-time enemy.

"I wish you wuz big enough to lick," growled w.i.l.l.y, under his breath.

"Your own mother would n't know you after the flakin' I 'd give you. I 'd s.n.a.t.c.h you baldheaded, baby."

d.i.c.ky turned his head far enough over his shoulder to prevent Mistress d.y.k.e from observing the protrusion of his tongue, and was so unlucky as to be hit fairly in the eye with a paper pellet, amply moistened, propelled with all the force the vigorous lungs of the prettiest girl in school, aided by a tube of paper torn from the back of her geography, could impart to it.

"Teacher, Milly O'Connor hit me in the eye wid a spit ball," snivelled d.i.c.ky, who, being of tender years, did not share in the general masculine scholastic worship of the youthful belle, who was admired and fought over by the larger boys, on whom she bestowed her favors quite impartially.

"Oh dear!" sighed Bessie. "Was there ever such a lot of children?

Milly, rise."

Milly stood up without any visible sign of contrition or embarra.s.sment.

She was a pretty, dark-curled la.s.sie of ten, dressed neatly and becomingly, which made her doubly prominent in her present surroundings, for most of the children were of such poverty-stricken parentage that the virtue possessed by their wearing apparel consisted almost entirely in sheltering and hiding rather than ornamenting their small persons.

"What shall I do to punish you?" asked Bessie, wearily.

"You might ferule her, teacher," suggested d.i.c.ky, good-humoredly coming to the rescue.

"d.i.c.ky, mind your own business," said Bessie severely, "or I 'll ferule you. Now I shall punish you both. Milly, kiss d.i.c.ky immediately."

"I don't want to kiss a tattle-tale," said Milly, who placed fully the proper valuation on her caresses.

"Exactly," said Bessie. "This is a punishment, not a reward of merit."

"Not for d.i.c.ky," corrected Milly. "He will like it, teacher."

But here the little lady was in grievous error, for when she, resignedly obedient, approached the small rascal, he promptly burst into tears and, dropping on the floor, hid his head under the bench. This was more than Bessie had bargained for, and she was about to motion Milly to return to her seat when Patsy, a youth with carroty red locks already mentioned, rose from his place on the front bench, burning with the n.o.ble flame of self-sacrifice.

"She can kiss me instead, teacher," he announced heroically, "and you can let d.i.c.ky off this time."

Bessie laughed outright in spite of herself, but Milly, regarding Patsy's suggestion as nothing short of positive insult, turned her back on the admiring gaze of the gallant youth.

"I think we will excuse you, Patsy. d.i.c.ky is punished sufficiently, and I fancy Milly will behave herself in the future."

Patsy sat down with a gulp of regret, not comforted by Milly's whisper:

"I 'd do anything rather than kiss that red-headed monkey."

Micky, to whom she had imparted this welcome information, nodded approval.

"Wait till I catch him after school," he murmured hostilely. "I 'll dust his jacket for him."

Meanwhile Bessie had rescued d.i.c.ky from his grief and apprehension, and, when the curly-headed youth had had his nose blown and resumed his seat, school a.s.sumed its wonted quiet until the sight of a tiny mouse nibbling a bit of cracker under an unoccupied bench drew forth a scream of terror from Milly, who considered herself ent.i.tled by age to the enjoyment of all the follies peculiar to her s.e.x.

"A mouse!" she shrieked. "Oh, teacher, teacher, save me!"

And she immediately sought a position of safety upon the seat.

Pandemonium broke loose. The other little girls not to be outdone became equally as frightened, and followed Milly in her ascent, an example which was most shamefully emulated by Bessie herself, with her desk as the base of operations.

Patsy plunged headlong in the direction of the small disturber bent on demolishing it with his geography. The other boys were equally prompt in following the chase, with the exception of Micky, who, realizing this was an excellent opportunity for administering a rebuke to his latest rival's amatory ambition, stepped quickly behind his enemy and kicked him in the place handiest at the time with an enthusiasm worthy of a better cause. Patsy, justly aggrieved, abandoned the pursuit, and, rising to his feet, smote Micky in the neck with a force that jarred him mentally as well as physically. Retaliation followed in a swinging blow on Patsy's snub nose, and a clinch ensued which continued in spite of Bessie's desperate remonstrances until Tom Moore put his head in the window, realized the necessity for prompt action, ran to the door, entered, and, seizing the combatants by their collars, tore them apart by main strength.

_Chapter Three_

_TOM MOORE ENTERTAINS TEACHER AND PUPILS_

Moore held the boys at arm's length, thus frustrating their desperate attempts to continue the battle, and glancing up at Bessie, who was still perched on the desk, favored her with a look of mingled astonishment and admiration.

"What a nice quiet time you have been having! Quite like a baby Donnybrook," he remarked cheerfully. "Are you trying to fly, Bessie, that you are up so high?"

"Oh, Tom, you came just in time."

"That is a habit of mine," replied Moore, and then, turning his attention to his prisoners, he continued:

"Now, my bully gladiators, what is the cause of this gentle argument?"

"Misther Moore, he said I looked like a monkey the other day," answered Micky, harking back to an insult that had long rankled in his memory.

"He kicked me, he did," said Patsy, "and I gave him a oner in the neck for it, I did."

"Red-head!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Micky in tones of scorn. "He wanted Milly to kiss him, the puckorn!"

"Which is Milly?" inquired Moore, scanning the other scholars interrogatively.

"I am," answered that young lady, delightfully free from embarra.s.sment.

"I don't blame you at all, Patsy," observed the poet regarding the youthful belle with approval. "Are you desperately fond of her?"

"To be sure," responded Patsy, valiantly. "I 'm going to marry her."

"As though I 'd marry _that_," remarked Milly, in accents by no means admiring.

"Never mind that, Miss Milly! An honest man's love is not to be scorned even when it's in short breeches," said Moore, reprovingly. "So it is jealousy that is at the bottom of this quarrel? Faith, I 'll settle it right here. Neither of you lads shall have Milly. I 'll marry her myself."

"All right," said Milly, c.o.c.king her eye at Bessie, "if teacher has no objection, I haven't."

"What an idea!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the schoolmistress, descending from her desk.

"Tom, how can you talk such nonsense?"

"Don't mind her, Milly. It's only jealousy," said Moore. "Boys, this fight is postponed till after hours." Then he added, in a whisper, "I 'll referee it myself. Go to your seats."

"Each of you boys will remain in an hour after school is dismissed,"

said Bessie, severely.