“Stone,” said the professor quietly, without a trace of harshness or reproof, “I should like to have you remain after the others are dismissed. I wish to speak with you.”
For a moment a feeling of relief flashed over Ben like an electric shock. So it was to be done privately, and not before the whole school! He was grateful for that much consideration for his feelings. When they were by themselves in that big, empty room, with no one else to hear, the professor would tell him quietly but firmly that it was quite out of the question to permit a boy of his bad reputation to remain in the school. He would be directed to leave the academy, never to return.
With many backward glances at the lad who remained behind, the scholars filed out. The door had closed behind the last of them when Ben was told to come down to the principal’s desk. There was no accusation, nothing but kindness, in Prof. Richardson’s eyes, as he looked on the boy who stood before him.
“Stone,” he said, in that same self-contained tone of voice, “I find it necessary to speak of an unpleasant matter relative to yourself. You came here to this school as a stranger, and it has ever been my practice to judge a boy by his acts and to estimate his character by what he proves himself to be. This is the course I should have pursued in your case, but this morning there came to me a gentleman who is well known in this town and highly respected, who knew you well before settling in Oakdale, and he told me many disagreeable things about you. I cannot doubt that he spoke the truth. He seemed to regard you as a rather dangerous and vicious character, and he expressed a belief that it was not proper for you to associate with the scholars here. I am not, however, one who thinks there is no chance of reform for a boy or man who has done wrong, and I think it is a fatal mistake to turn a cold shoulder on the repentant wrongdoer. I have given some thought to this matter, Stone, and I have decided to give you a chance, just the same as any other boy, to prove yourself here at this school.”
Ben was quivering from head to feet. In his heart new hope and new life leaped. Still in some doubt, he faltered:
“Then you—you are not going to—to expel me, sir?”
“Not until I am satisfied that you deserve it; not until by some act that comes under my observation you convince me that you are not earnestly seeking to reform—that you are not worthy to remain in the school.”
“Oh, thank you—thank you!” choked the boy, and that was all he could say. His voice broke, and he saw the kind face of the professor through a blurring mist.
“I hope I am not making a mistake in this, Stone,” that same soothing voice went on. “I hope you will try to prove to me that I am not.”
“I will, sir—I will!” Ben eagerly promised.