Ward Hill, the Senior

by Everett T. Tomlinson

It was some time, however, before he could bring his mind to bear upon his task. The scene in Tim Pickard's room kept rising before him. His anger and the part Jack had taken were still vivid. What a good fellow Jack was, Ward thought, and he appreciated his aid the more when he realized what it might mean for the impulsive lad to bring upon himself the anger of the "Tangs." And yet how fearless he had been, and in what a manly way he had taken his stand. Even then Ward could almost hear his words as he told Tim that the trouble in West Hall must cease. Would Tim heed? Somehow Ward felt that he would, at least in so far as the stacking of his room was concerned; but in other ways doubtless he would be made aware that Tim had not forgotten him. And Tim was one who never forgot.

At last he succeeded in banishing from his mind for the time, the recollection of the scene in Mrs. Perrins' house, and gave himself wholly to his work. On the following night Ward started to go to Mr. Crane's room. Somehow he dreaded the interview, and yet go he must. Mr. Crane he knew would expect him to come, and that scene in Ripley's room must be explained to his satisfaction.

Ward had thought over the matter many times, but as yet had arrived at no satisfactory course for him to follow. One thing was certain, and that was that he could not tell Mr. Crane about Tim Pickard. That was against the school's code of honor, and Ward's own feelings forbade it as well.

He was still undecided what to do when he rapped on Mr. Crane's door and was at once admitted by the teacher himself.

Apparently Mr. Crane had not changed, nor did he seem in any way suspicious of the boy before him. And yet that very quietness was most impressive to Ward, and had ever been the one element in the teacher's character and bearing which had most influenced him.

After a few general words Ward felt that he could bear it no longer, and breaking in somewhat abruptly, he said:

"Mr. Crane I want to put a case before you."

"Yes?" said Mr. Crane, lifting his eyes inquiringly, but not otherwise changing his manner.

"I want to know just what you would do. You seem to understand boys so well."

"I don't just know what I should do, if I didn't understand a little more clearly than I do now what was expected of me," answered Mr. Crane, smiling slightly as he spoke.