Ward Hill, the Senior

by Everett T. Tomlinson

"And I'm glad that for once in your life you can make a point clear," said Ward with a laugh.

"Well done, my friend, I've hopes of you yet. Now, I say it's all fair to feed Tim with his own food and from his own spoon. Why my father was telling me the last time I was home about a trick a fellow named Bram Martling played in the 'neutral ground,' away back in the Revolution. It seems that this same Bram, which is short as I understand it for Abraham, was a young officer in the Continental army, and once when he came home he found the Tories and British had been burning the houses around there just for the fun of seeing 'em burn, I fancy. Well, Bram was pretty well stirred up when he found out what was going on, so he just quietly got a dozen young fellows together, and they met over by Wolfert's Roost on the Hudson, and took two whaleboats and pulled down to Morningside Heights in the night. Then they crept up and set fire to Oliver De Lancy's great house, and got away without one of them being caught. They thought 'twas a great deed in those days, and made out that the aforesaid Bram was quite a hero. But he stopped the Tories from burning houses after that, let me tell you. It makes all the difference in the world whether you are the burner or the burnee."

"And you think----?"

"Be silent, my young friend. This fable, which I have just related for your special benefit, teaches that in bad things as well as in good it is much more pleasant to give than to receive. Now, for your own good, and for the good of Tim Pickard too, you are simply compelled to let him know just how good it is to have one's room stacked. It must be done thoroughly and at once. Who was it that said, 'if 'twere well done when it is done, then 'twere well if it were done quickly'?"

"I guess it was Shakespeare," said Ward laughing; "but you got the quotation twisted a bit. The way it reads is----"

"Oh, bother the way it reads, you know what I mean. Now, Luscious, you tell Ward if you don't think what I've said is true."

"I think, Ward," said Berry, "that Jack's right. I don't see that you can do anything else. You've got to put a stop to the racket and Jack's plan is a good one."

For a moment Ward did not speak. Somehow he knew that Henry would not go into the scheme, and he had a very decided opinion that Mr. Crane would not approve. Indeed, the teacher had at one time said to him that it was a good deal better to suffer wrong than to do it. One wrong did not make another wrong right. Ward needed no one to tell him that.

Yet there was the trouble all the time threatening to become worse and it was certainly bad enough as it was, and Henry and Little Pond were both made to suffer too for his unpopularity. Jack's plan might work well. Who could say? The specious reasoning of boys who would not intentionally do anything very bad also appealed to him.

But more than all was Jack's evident friendship and interest. Ward was well aware of the risks the impulsive lad would be incurring in entering into the project with him. Tim Pickard's enmity in the Weston school was no light matter, and Jack, even more than Ward, fed upon the good will of his companions. Jack might feel hurt if he should refuse now to enter into the project, when his only motive for proposing it had been the desire to aid him. Ward felt that he could not refuse.