“Very well! Ben, you may return to your desk. McCormack, you may be excused.”
Young Barriscale resumed his former position at the far side of the room, the great ironmaster plunged again into the mass of papers on his table, and Hal, after a moment of hesitation, bowed and turned away. He left the building, crossed the plaza, and turned up the side street toward the city’s main thoroughfare. The ordeal had been passed, the punishment had been defined, but he did not quite know whether to congratulate himself on the lightness of his sentence or to rebel at the humiliation it might impose on him. One thing in connection with the incident was pleasant to think of, and that was young Ben’s frank admission of his participation in the offense, and his willingness to share the punishment. It stamped him as a boy of character, even though he had been rated as something of a snob. Moreover, it was quite a relief to know that there would be no money for Captain McCormack to pay, even temporarily. Besides, there was to be no court proceeding, no criminal conviction, no term in the state’s prison. Perhaps that was due to Mr. Barriscale’s change of heart after he learned that his son was a participant in the mischief. Hal did not quite know. At any rate it was not so bad as it might have been, although he still had an uneasy feeling that his offense had been exaggerated, that he might find his punishment to be unduly severe, and that he had been saved from deeper distress and humiliation only by a fortunate accident.
When Hal announced at the dinner table that day that he had seen Mr. Barriscale, and when he had stated the nature of the punishment he was to undergo, he noticed a grim smile on the face of his father. But, beyond a passing comment on the fairness of Ben and on the equality of the sentence as between the two boys, Captain McCormack said little. Whatever his thoughts or opinions were on the subject he kept them judiciously to himself. He made some facetious remark, indeed, about the necessity for having early breakfasts thereafter; but, so far as the deeper aspects of the case were concerned, it was apparent that he had decided to let his son work the matter out for himself.
It was not so with Hal’s mother, however. She was emphatic in her protests against the severity and humiliation of his punishment. She could not see why a boy’s prank should be treated so seriously, even though it had ended in an unfortunate accident. She feared that early breakfasts would ruin her son’s digestion, and that a month of hard labor with no opportunity for play would result in his becoming a confirmed invalid. Her lamentations, however, did not greatly affect Hal’s composure. She had always loved and petted him and tried to shield him from the rough places in life, and it was but natural that she should take a somewhat exaggerated and pessimistic view of the present situation.
On the following Monday morning, at ten minutes before seven, Hal presented himself at the armory, ready for work. Ben Barriscale was already there, but Superintendent McCrae had not yet arrived. The building was practically completed and it was the interior finishing that was now, for the most part, occupying the attention of the workmen.
As Hal entered the large drill-hall he saw Ben standing on the farther side of it, and crossed over to meet him. He greeted him pleasantly, but the ironmaster’s son was not responsive, and seemed to be in anything but a cheerful mood.
“Well,” asked Hal in an effort to be companionable, “what do you suppose they’ll put us at?”
“I don’t know,” was the blunt reply. “And I don’t care much. Whatever the job is I’m sick of it already.”
Hal tried to be encouraging. “That isn’t the way to look at it,” he protested. “We’re into it, we’ve got to make the best of it. Maybe we can find a little sport in it after all. Let’s try.”
“You’re welcome to work like a common laborer if you want to, and get what fun out of it you can. I don’t fancy the prospect.”