"Tim might be a little disagreeable at first; but you know if you braced up and either laughed at him or paid no attention to what he said, how soon he'd cool off. Now look here, Ward, how many times has your room been stacked since we had our little interview with Timothy down at Ma Perrins'?"
"Not once."
"Exactly. And if you meet Tim and the boys in the same way down on the ball ground you'd see how soon he'd crawl there. Oh, I know Tim Pickard all the way up and all the way down, from the top of his head to the sole of his foot."
"But, I don't want to get on the nine in any such way," protested Ward.
"Never mind the nine, just come down and go in with the fellows, that's all I'm telling you. You can't run off up to the glen or away off to the Hopper, and think all the school is going to come trailing after you. If you're going to catch fish, you've got to go where the fish are, haven't you? And if you think the fellows are all down on you, you can't fix things straight by going off and talking with the whispering breezes and echoing hills, and all that sort of stuff."
Ward soon departed and went to his own room. His heart was smarting from the effect of Jack's words, but somehow he could not feel angry with him. Who could? The light-hearted, generous lad made friends on every side, for no one could long withstand his sunny ways.
That night Ward sat for a long time at his study table, with his head resting upon his hands and his books unopened before him. He was thinking of Mr. Crane's words and what Jack had said.
At last he arrived at a quick decision, and with the decision once made he opened his books and resolutely began the preparation of his lessons for the following day.
CHAPTER XIV
WARD HUMBLES HIMSELF