When supper was over, to satisfy Jimmy, Ben was compelled to tell about the football game, and this he did with such modesty that the listeners, who had not witnessed the contest, were given no inkling as to how conspicuously he had figured in it. He was even fair and generous enough to accord Hayden all the credit the fellow deserved.
At the first mention of Bern’s name the blind lad uttered a cry of astonishment and alarm, reaching out a trembling hand to touch his brother.
“Ben! Ben!” he exclaimed. “It’s not Bern Hayden who—who used to live in Hilton—not that fellow?”
“Yes, Jerry, it’s the same fellow. He lives here in Oakdale now.”
“But, Ben, he—why, you know what he did. You know——”
“I’m not likely to forget it, Jerry.”
“He hates you.”
“There’s not an atom of love lost between us,” was the grim retort.
“He made you go away from Hilton.”
“And he tried to drive me out of Oakdale, but he failed in that, Jerry. He came mighty near it, it’s true, and only for the good friends I made here he would have succeeded. His old father even went to Prof. Richardson, at the academy, and tried to poison his mind.”