After recess, she learned the story as it was told by Henry to the scholars.
"Ernest stole father's keys, unlocked his tool chest, and cut his hand with a new adze."
"That does not sound true. I wont believe such a story till Ernest tells me himself," said the lady. "I'll call at Mrs. Monroe's on my way home."
She did call; and Henry, who saw her enter the house, slunk away feeling very much like a thief.
The next half hour was a very pleasant one to the sick boy. He frankly confessed to his teacher his fault; but when she asked who unlocked the chest, answered,—
"Mother knows. I'd rather not tell anybody else."
"Well," said the lady, rising at last to leave. "You must hurry and get well; for my first class miss you sadly. Can't you have your books at home, and keep up with the lessons?"
"Yes, ma'am. I should like it. Mother can hear me every day."
At the end of a fortnight, Ernest was in his desk, looking rather thin to be sure, but pleased to be back in school. His right hand hung in a sling, and his companions were very careful the half-healed fingers should receive no injury by their carelessness.
To the surprise of some of his class, Ernest went on with the lesson, which happened to be review, as if he had not been absent a day. At the close of the recitation in spelling, he unexpectedly found himself at the head of his class.