Sam was so depressed by the erratic course of school justice that he went over to Dr. Leighton’s that evening and told him the whole story, in which Fish figured only as “a fellow in the well.” Dr. Leighton listened with sympathy and gave what comfort he could. A certain amount of injustice, he said, is inevitable in our lives; when we can’t prevent it, it is better to bear it bravely than to whine over it. Sam went home resolved to take his punishment without grumbling, and to hope for better things.
After the boy left, Dr. Leighton drew out his catalogue of students and ran rapidly down the list to discover who belonged in the east well of Hale. At the name of Fish his pencil rested. “That’s the black sheep,” he said, as he put away the pamphlet. “I’m afraid he’s not what Alsop thinks him.”
CHAPTER XXI
HONK! HONK!
The day after Birdie Fowle reached home for the spring recess, a letter arrived from the Seaton authorities containing a printed blank, filled in with an alternation of D’s and E’s. There was likewise enclosed a short note from the school secretary, giving the startling information that the boy’s conduct in the dormitory had been so reprehensible that he would not be permitted to return except on trial from day to day; and that any further complaint from his dormitory master would be followed by immediate notice to withdraw.
The Fowle household was burdened with sorrow during the six days which Birdie spent at home. Mr. Fowle was taciturn and grave, Mrs. Fowle wept, and Birdie (properly named James), after a day or two of aggrieved expostulation, settled into a mood of deeply despondent fatalism. He knew that he was not a bad boy; he did not follow the evil ways of some of his schoolmates; he did not drink nor play poker nor run in debt nor cut recitations. Other fellows who did these and worse got off clear, while for a little rough-housing, much of which had been forced upon him by others, he was to be branded as a criminal. Of what use was it to try to be good, if he got the punishment of the worst? He might as well be bad and have the fun of it.
So Birdie returned to school, his ears still tingling with the stern warnings of his father and the tearful entreaties of his mother, his heart saddened by a presentiment of failure. He was like an unwilling soldier marching to expected defeat.
Sam and Duncan came back in a very different state of mind. They had spent the week at the Archers’ in Portland, where Duncan, who was on his best behavior, by his deferential politeness and open-hearted cordiality made amends to the parents for his early churlish treatment of the son. The family were charmed with him.
“We are so glad to have had you here,” Mrs. Archer confided to Duncan on the day of their departure. “We always like to know Sam’s friends, and we have been interested in you since Sam first wrote about you.”
At this Duncan looked a trifle conscious, and shot a swift glance at Sam, whose face was turned away. “It’s very good of you to let me come,” he said politely, trying to escape the unpleasant reminder of the past by dwelling on the agreeable present.