“I think we shall all be glad to have you join us, Crawford,” said Gordon.
“Gordon—I don’t suppose you know what it is to be ashamed of yourself through and through. I do—and I don’t enjoy the feeling.” There was a ring of pain in Crawford’s voice as he spoke, and Gordon could not question his sincerity. He held out his hand saying, heartily:—
“The best of us go wrong so often that we can’t afford to be hard on anybody who is honestly sorry, Crawford. I want you on our side this year to help us make the old Central proud of section D.”
Crawford grasped the offered hand and then turned away without another word, but Gordon felt that the look on his face was more eloquent than any words could have been.
When he went back to the group in the corner and reported his success, some of the boys looked doubtful. They found it hard yet to believe that Crawford was in earnest, but at least they were glad to be able to hope that he would no longer lead the idle and troublesome element into fresh mischief.
“If Coyle could only be gotten rid of, now,” remarked Raleigh, “we might hope to make a fine record this year, so far as deportment goes. It remains to be seen what kind of students these new fellows are.”
“That black-eyed chap looks as if he had brains,” remarked Reed.
“Looks to me as if he thought he had the monopoly of brains,” put in Hamlin.
“He does have rather a high and mighty air,” said Sherman. “May be only shyness, though. Some fellows put on airs like that when their hearts are in their boots.”
“He isn’t troubled with shyness—anything but,” retorted Hamlin.