Harry Watson's High School Days; Or, The Rivals of Rivertown

by Frank V. Webster

But once Harry was inside the sacred precincts, guarded by the four plastered walls, he was no longer the good fellow sought by his schoolmates, but the victim of initiation—and before he had performed all the stunts which were put up to him, it was early in the morning. And when he made his way to his aunt’s house, it was not the carefree boy who had been borne forth on the shoulders of his friends, but a youth, bedraggled, and with a more proper appreciation of his utter insignificance in the scheme of life.

Proud to think that her nephew had been picked out for one of the members of the secret society, Mrs. Watson sat up, with the purpose of welcoming him when he returned home. But as hour after hour went by without his appearing, after the manner of a woman, she began to fear that some harm had befallen him. Accordingly, when at last she heard his halting footsteps on the porch, she threw open the door, and greeted him fondly.

But Harry was so used up that he failed to appreciate the tenderness of the caress, and, realizing the fact, his aunt sent him to bed with the injunction to sleep as late in the morning as he pleased.

Sore, indeed, was Harry when he awoke the next morning, but as he noted the glance cast at him by the other fellows passing on the way to school, glances in which there was a certain amount of envy, he began to forget the ache and pain, caused by the anything but gentle thumps he had received during his initiation, and by the time he had reached the schoolhouse, he was quite his natural self.

But though the boy was in exuberant spirits, it did not take him long to realize that a depression had fallen upon his society mates, and he lost no time in trying to learn the cause.

“What is it?” he asked Paul and Jerry, as they came toward him.

“It’s fierce, that’s what it is,” returned Jerry.

“But why don’t you tell me what it is?”

“Because nobody knows exactly,” asserted Paul.

“We’ll know, though, just as soon as chapel’s over,” announced Jerry, in a voice so doleful, that the last vestige of Harry’s enthusiasm vanished.