“It is not fair that they should do so,” observed another. “Their parents pay for their schooling, and it is not right that they should be obliged to spend their time and injure their clothes in sweeping rooms and making fires. It does well enough for those who cannot pay.”
“For shame! John Gray,” exclaimed William. “You should not speak so thoughtlessly. You trouble Louis,” he added in a whisper.
John was a kind-hearted boy, but rude and thoughtless in his manners.
“I do not wish to trouble Louis,” he said aloud. “I only spoke the truth.”
The color, which had deepened on Louis’s cheek, faded away, and he said, kindly,—
“You do not trouble me, John. I agree with you in thinking that those whose parents can pay for their schooling should not be expected to take care of the room. But as I am situated, I regard it as a very great favor that I am in this way enabled to earn my own schooling.”
“It is a great favor to us,” exclaimed several boys. “We never before had so neat and comfortable a room.”
The entrance of Mr. Grant, the teacher, prevented any farther conversation, and each boy quietly took his seat, and performed his accustomed duties.
At noon, there was fine sport with coasting and skating, but, in the midst of his play, William remembered his promise to his father; and, finding that Louis was not among his companions, he sought him in the school-house. He found him seated at his desk, busily engaged with a pencil and piece of paper.
“Come, Louis,” he exclaimed, “Come and play with us. There is fine skating on the pond.”