Ward Hill, the Senior

by Everett T. Tomlinson

The party of friends, with Little Pond and Big Smith occasionally added, tramped over the hills in quest of chestnuts, and never failed to return with a goodly store. On the brief half-holidays, until the snow came, they would take their luncheons and start forth to explore some of the beauties of the region in which Weston lay, and the hills would echo and re-echo with the sounds of healthful boyish shouts and laughter, the best sounds in all this world.

Ward Hill was happy. The past seldom rose before him now, or if it did come for a moment and awaken a sharp pang, it was soon put aside as the consciousness of the efforts he was then making came to take its place. And Ward was working faithfully. He was doing so much more and so much better than ever he had done before, that it seemed to him as if he was working intensely. He had yet to learn some of the necessities and possibilities in that line.

The enmity of Tim Pickard and the "Tangs" still continued, but for the most part it was expressed in sneers and attempted slights rather than by any open manifestations; but Ward felt that he could endure all that easily now in the knowledge he had of the regard with which most of the boys looked up to him since the day of the great game with the Burrs. And then too, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he was not neglecting his work, and that results were already becoming more and more plain.

Once, it is true, his room was "stacked" again, when he had carelessly left the door unlocked, but he did not care so much for that as he did that Pond's room was also upset on the same day. Coming up the stairs together they discovered two of the younger boys at work in very midst of the mischief. They administered a sound "seniorly" spanking, and made the little fellows confess that Tim Pickard had told them to do what they were doing.

As soon as the chastening and some good advice had been given, Pond insisted upon going at once to Tim's room and "having it out with him" as he expressed it. Nothing loth, Ward assented, and the two boys at once went down to Mrs. Perrins' and found Tim by chance in his room.

The presence of his visitors evidently confused the lad at first, but soon assuming a bold manner he listened to what Pond had to say.

"We've come down here to tell you, Tim, that you're not to set any more of the little fellows up to stacking our rooms again."

"I haven't stacked your rooms," said Tim boldly.

"I'm not talking about that," said Pond, speaking in a quiet manner, frequently deceiving to those who were not well acquainted with him. He was seldom angry, but his very quietness gave the impression that it would not be wise to push him unduly. "I'm not talking about that," repeated Pond. "All I said was that you were not to set any more of the little fellows up to such tricks as stacking our rooms."

"Have the little imps gone and squealed? I'll fix----"