Ward Hill, the Senior

by Everett T. Tomlinson

"Hello, Tim. Glad to see you back again."

Tim Pickard turned and looked insolently at Ward. There was not a gleam of recognition or pleasure expressed upon his face. He looked at Ward just a moment and then, ignoring the outstretched hand and the salutation alike, he turned again to the boys before him and resumed his conversation with them.

Ward's face flushed crimson, and at first he felt as if he could not control the feeling of anger which surged up in his heart. Who was Tim Pickard, that he should treat him in such a manner? Had he not been expelled from the school? Did not every fellow in the school know just what he was? Had any one forgotten the escapades of the coarse-fibred boy? Ward's heart sank quickly, however, when he thought of his own record in the preceding year. If Dr.. Gray was willing to receive Tim Pickard back into the school for another trial, who was he to complain? And how much better after all was he than Tim?

Ward caught the words "sneak" and "bootlick," which Tim had uttered as he had turned again to his companions, and realized then just what he would have to face. Tim Pickard's anger, the enmity of the "Tangs," and a series of petty annoyances which would be bound to follow him now perhaps all through the school year, must be met.

It seemed to the troubled boy as if every one in his class was against him, for he received but a friendly nod or a slight recognition as he hurried into the Latin room and took his old familiar place. Jack already was in the chair next to his and Ward at once perceived from the expression on his face that he was aware of the state of the feeling in the school.

"Never mind, Ward," he whispered, as his classmate took his seat; "just you keep in mind what I told you about the condition of your vertebrae, and the region of your upper lip. It'll all come out right."

To do Ward Hill justice we must say that there was a feeling in his heart which did not promise to be altogether bad. It is true he was hurt and angry as he recognized what lay before him, perhaps more angry than hurt, but he was determined now not to be crushed, or "downed," as he termed it. Mr. Crane kept the class but a few moments, only long enough to assign lessons and to make a few general suggestions, and then dismissed them.

As they filed out of the room, Jack said: "Ward, will you come over to my room now?"

"No," replied Ward quietly. "I think I'll go over to West and get a little start in my work. If I'm to be valedic, you know, I must begin early." Ward smiled slightly as he spoke, but he could not entirely conceal the depression which now swept over him. "Never mind, Speck, don't worry about me," he quickly added as he saw the sympathy expressed upon his friend's face; "I'm going to come through it all right. I'm not for giving up yet, anyway. I'll come over to see you after a bit; but just now I think I'll go to my room."

"All right," said Jack heartily, evidently appreciating Ward's desire to be alone.