“I think the pupil that has the best record in school should raise it,” suggested Justice.
“I think,” I said slowly, “I’ll let Absalom Butts raise it.”
“Absalom Butts!” exclaimed Justice incredulously. “The laziest, meanest, most mischievous boy in school! I wouldn’t let him be in the pageant, if I had my way, let alone raise the flag.”
“Exactly,” I said calmly. “You’re just like the rest of them. That’s the whole trouble with Absalom Butts. He’s been used to harsh measures all his life. His father has cuffed him about ever since he can remember. Everybody considers him a bad boy and a terror to snakes and all that and now he acts the part thoroughly. He’s so homely that nobody will ever be attracted to him by his looks, and such a poor scholar that he will never make a name for himself at his lessons, and the only way he can make himself prominent is through his pranks. He’s too old to be in school with the rest of the children; he should be with boys of his own age. His father makes him stay there because he is too obstinate to admit that he will never get out by the graduation route, and Absalom takes out his spite on the teacher. I can read him like a book. I’ve tried fighting him to a finish on every point and it hasn’t worked. He’s still ready to break out at a moment’s notice. Now I’m going to change my tactics. I’m going to appoint him, as the oldest pupil, to be my special aid in the pageant, and help work out the details. I’m going to honor him by letting him raise the flag. We’ll see how that will change his mind about playing pranks to spoil the pageant.”
“It won’t work,” said Justice gloomily. “Absalom Butts is Absalom Butts, the son of Elijah Butts; and a chip off the old block. The old man has a mean, crafty disposition, and he probably was just like Absalom when he was young. Absalom is going to do something to spoil that pageant, I see it in his eye. You watch.”
“It’s worth trying, anyhow,” I said determinedly.
“It won’t work,” reiterated Justice. “You can’t change human nature.”
“It worked once,” I said, and I told him about the Dalrymple twins, Antha and Anthony, last summer on Ellen’s Isle.
“So you turned little Cry-baby into a lion of bravery and Sir Boastful into a modest violet!” said Justice, in a tone of incredulity.
“Yes, and if you’d ever seen them at the beginning of the summer you wouldn’t have held any high hopes of changing human nature, either,” I remarked, a little nettled at Justice’s tone.