"All right," said Bert. And the two began to feel quite good friends at once.
As the morning passed, and Bert came to feel more at home, he took in the details of his surroundings. Mr. Garrison's school consisted of some fifty boys, ranging in age from sixteen downward, Bert being about the youngest of them all. They all belonged to the better class, and were, upon the whole, a very presentable lot of pupils. Scanning their countenances curiously as they sat at their desks or stood up in rows before the teacher to recite, Bert noticed more than one face that he instinctively liked, and, being charmed with Mr. Garrison, and well pleased with his new friend "Shorty," his first impressions were decidedly favourable.
He had, of course, nothing to do that morning, save to look about him, but Mr. Garrison gave him a list of books to be procured, and lessons to be learned in them before the school broke up for the day; and with this in his pocket he went home in excellent spirits, to tell them all there, how well he had got on his first day in school.
CHAPTER XI.
SCHOOL LIFE AT MR. GARRISON'S.
Bert had not been long at Mr. Garrison's school before he discovered that it was conducted on what might fairly be described as "go-as-you-please" principles. A sad lack of system was its chief characteristic. He meant well enough by his pupils, and was constantly making spurts in the direction of reform and improvement, but as often falling back into the old irregular ways.
The fact of the matter was that he not only was not a schoolmaster by instinct, but he had no intention of being one by profession. He had simply adopted teaching as a temporary expedient to tide over a financial emergency, and intended to drop it so soon as his object was accomplished. His heart was in his profession, not in his school, and the work of teaching was at best an irksome task, to be got through with each day as quickly as possible. Had Mr. Lloyd fully understood this, he would never have placed Bert there. But he did not; and, moreover, he was interested in young Mr. Garrison, who had had many difficulties to encounter in making his way, and he wished to help him.
In the first place, Mr. Garrison kept no record of attendance, either of the whole school, or of the different classes into which it was divided. A boy might come in an hour after the proper time, or be away for a whole day without either his lateness or his absence being observed. As a consequence "meeching"—that is, taking a holiday without leave from either parents or teachers—was shamefully common. Indeed, there was hardly a day that one or more boys did not "meech." If by any chance they were missed, it was easy to get out of the difficulty by making some excuse about having been sick, or mother having kept them at home to do some work, and so forth. Schoolboys are always fertile in excuses, and, only too often, indifferent as to the quantity of truth these may contain.