Pocket Island: A Story of Country Life in New England

by Charles Clark Munn

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.

"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 divined some things which the boy little suspected he had.

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.

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 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.

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.

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 sang froid 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!

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 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.

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: If there were thirty boys and girls playing the same game, cards bearing the numbers from one to thirty were distributed among them.

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.

"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.