“Bah, Tom, you get out. Do you suppose the animal himself didn’t know how to wear his hide?”
CHAPTER XIII.
MASTER PAGE.
SO impatient was Ronald to enter upon his academic career, that he had his school books and his slate all ready for a start, Saturday afternoon. On going up to his chamber, later in the day, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice new satchel upon his table, which his mother had made for him, as a birth-day present. He packed his books into it, and swung it over his shoulder, and walked back and forth, to see how it would seem. While he was thus indulging in pleasant anticipations, his room-mate, Otis, was undergoing a very different experience. Entering the chamber, without noticing Ronald, he threw himself upon the bed, and burst into tears. Ronald did not need to inquire what ailed him. His parents had that afternoon made their promised visit to Kate and Otis, and had just started for home, and the poor boy was consequently suffering from that most distressing malady of the mind—home-sickness. Ronald’s efforts to enliven him proved unavailing, and he was reluctantly compelled to leave him to his grief, which did not wholly subside until sleep came to his relief.
On Monday morning, more than half an hour before the first stroke of the academy bell was heard, Ronald was busily engaged in hurrying up his academical associates, whose moderation in getting themselves ready for the day’s business seemed to him almost too bad to be patiently endured. However, contrary to his predictions, all arrived at the academy in good season, though they went in straggling parties—for it was the preference of all to walk, rather than ride, when the weather and the roads permitted. Of course, they carried their dinners.
At five minutes before nine o’clock the bell sounded, and the scholars and teachers assembled in the school-room. The forenoon was spent in taking the names of the pupils, assigning seats, forming classes, giving out lessons, and in general remarks to the students on the purpose for which they had assembled, and the duties which they were expected to perform. Most of the preliminary matters were settled, in the forenoon, and the regular studies commenced with the afternoon session.
The incidents of the day afforded plenty of topics for conversation to Marcus and the students from his family, as they proceeded home, at night. General satisfaction was expressed that one of the monitors’ desks, overlooking a division of the smaller boys, had been assigned to Oscar. This arrangement seemed peculiarly gratifying to Ronald and Otis, who thus came under his oversight, and who smiled incredulously, when he declared that he should keep a particularly sharp eye upon them. Oscar expressed himself as much pleased with the preceptor, Mr. Upton. Kate, who had been promoted to the highest class, and was in excellent spirits, said she always admired Mr. Upton, and thought she should rather like his new assistant, Mr. Page. Otis and Ronald, on the other hand, were a little disappointed because Marcus had disregarded their joint request, that they might sit together, and had placed them so far apart that any intercourse during school hours, except by means of winks, signs and paper “spit balls,” would be out of the question. The reason Marcus gave for this refusal,—the fear that they would have too good a time together,—was not very consoling to the boys. Instead of Otis, Ronald had for his nearest comrade the boy who blotted his writing-book at the district school, Lewis Daniels. Both Marcus and Ronald, however, treated Lewis with kindness, and tried to make him forget the injury he had inflicted upon the latter.
The ardor with which Ronald set out for school in the morning was a little dampened by one or two other incidents that occurred during the day. At noon, as he approached a group of large boys, he heard one of them say—
“I don’t care for Marcus Page—he’s nothing but a boy, himself. He was a scholar, here, for a year or more after I joined the academy.”