Tom pointed to one of the gates, and Aleck followed through it in a flash, and was looking up and down the street; but in vain—only brisk, erect walkers were passing on as far as his eye could reach. He ran a little way past one corner and then another, but no crooked, dwarfed little figure was in sight; and burning with indignation, he came hastily back, to find the bell had rung and the boys had taken seats some time before.
And was that the professor standing in the desk, his eyes flashing fire, his face white, and his voice so terrible that half the boys had got their heads hidden behind one thing or another, as if they thought it was going to strike them?
“Didn’t think, and didn’t touch him!” he was thundering, in answer to the excuses offered; “you did think; you thought it would be a pleasure to see a suffering little life crushed down still farther under your taunts! And you did touch him; you touched him with words that were sharper than a serpent’s tooth, and may rankle like poisoned arrows in his heart to the latest day of his life! No one could ever have made me believe that I had such a school; and I could give it up now, and give my whole time to one little fellow like that you have driven away, with more hope of reward than I feel with you to-day.”
There was no reprimand for Aleck’s tardiness; the professor understood too well. He had missed the two boys together, and on inquiring for them the truth had come out. It seemed as if the rest of that morning never would take itself away, but it was gone at last, and the boys filed out under the still scornful glances of the master.
But as Aleck passed he beckoned him to the desk with a different look.
“You are a friend of that little fellow?” he asked.
“I’d like to be,” said Aleck; “but though I’ve seen him two or three times, I didn’t know his name or even where he lives.”
“You know where Dr. Thorndyke’s is?”
Aleck nodded assent.