Next morning he found his writing materials strewn over his table in great confusion, and in a lazy, listless manner he set to work to put them to rights.
In order to keep his composition, or “essay,” perfectly clean, he intended to put it into an old envelope. Alas, poor boy, he made a blunder, as usual; and mistaking the composition for the letter, he thrust it into the envelope directed to Henry, which he sealed on the spot, and stowed away in his pocket. Then he put the letter into the old envelope and put it carefully away in his satchel.
Not one boy in fifty could possibly have made so egregious a blunder, but nothing else could be expected from Will.
On this eventful day, the “essays,” as Teacher Meadows saw fit to call them, were to be read, and the prize was to be delivered over to the “successful competitor.”
Full of his expected triumph, Will set out for school. He knew that his composition was good, and he could judge what the others’ would be. He was a little uneasy about George and Charles, but as for the rest—pshaw! the rest couldn’t write!
He imagined he saw his schoolmates watching him as he went home that evening with about the biggest book ever printed. He even heard their disappointed tones, and saw their sullen and envious looks, as he passed through the streets.
And that old lady who often cast admiring glances towards him—she would call next day and say, “Well, Mrs. Lawrence, your boy is just the smartest boy in the whole village.”
In a day or so Stephen would drop in and let him know what was said about it by the villagers in general, the schoolboys in particular.
And when his uncle and aunt heard the news, they would certainly be overjoyed, and send him (just what he wanted, of course) a monkey! As soon as it could be done, his father would buy him a little gun.