Ward Hill, the Senior

by Everett T. Tomlinson

Mike could not conceal his anxiety. He had violated a strict rule of the school in lending his bunch of keys to any one. He himself ought to have gone and tried the keys himself if any one used them, and this Ward knew as well as Mike.

"Mike," he said solemnly, "you've got yourself into trouble. There have been some rooms stacked in West Hall this afternoon, and you're the one to blame for it too. You had no right to let any fellow in this school have your keys."

"Indade and that same is true," said the troubled Michael. "Now, Mr. Ward, you'll not be after reportin' it to the doctor, Oi'm thinkin'? The principal has enough to think of without addin' to his cares and burdens. Yez will not be after doin' that, I know, Mr. Ward?"

The janitor could not entirely conceal his fears, and Ward quickly resolving to make use of them for his own advantage, said, "Not yet, Mike, anyway. But those East Hall fellows must not come over here and stack our rooms. Now if you'll promise to keep quiet and help me find out who does the mischief, it'll be all right. But you'll have to keep a careful watch. If the thing happens again, Dr. Gray ought to know of it."

"Oi'll trap 'em, me lad. Oi'll help yez to fix 'em! I will that."

"All right then, Mike. But mind, now, you'll have to keep both eyes open."

Michael departed troubled and yet elated over Ward's words, just as Henry entered the room. Ward at first had thought he would not tell his room-mate of what had occurred, but changing his mind, he soon told Henry all about it.

His room-mate's anger was great when he had listened to the story, and many were his expressions of sympathy. He too realized that Ward was likely to have a long and bitter struggle in the school now, and to the boy's credit be it said, he did not once think of the trouble it might bring upon him as Ward's chum.

His words were comforting to the troubled Ward, who could bear the ill will of his fellows least of all. Indeed, the heaviness in Ward's heart arose most of all from his loss of popularity, and how he would bear it not even he himself could tell.

He soon went with Henry to the dining hall, but was silent most of the time. The slight on the ball-field, the loss of his position on the nine, and the "stacking" of his room, had all combined to render him somewhat heavy-hearted and disinclined to enter into conversation with any one.