“Explains what? Do you know anything about it?” inquired Mr. Walker, with surprise.
Clinton then told Mr. Walker of his interview with Sneider in the woods the night before the fire. Willie also came out, on hearing the subject of conversation, and supplied some omissions which Clinton, in his alarm and nervousness, had overlooked. Mr. Walker was a quick-tempered and impulsive young man, somewhat overbearing in his manner, and, when in a passion, not a very agreeable person, by any means. He could scarcely restrain his anger, as the boys related their adventure, and repeatedly interrupted them with the inquiry, in a quick, snappish tone:
“Why didn’t you tell of this before? What does all this mean, I should like to know?”
His passion rose as the boys proceeded, and he soon lost all self-control, and broke forth in a most profane and outrageous manner, applying all kinds of abusive epithets to Clinton in particular, for not telling of his interview with Sneider before; pronouncing him a fool and simpleton for being so easily deceived by him; and, with the usual inconsistency of men in a passion, threatening to have him arrested as an accomplice or partner in the crime. The boys hung their heads like criminals, under the stinging reproof; but, fortunately for them, Mrs. Davenport, who, unobserved, had heard the whole conversation, thought it her duty to interfere, now that Mr. Walker’s temper had reached such a pitch, and she accordingly stepped from the house. The young man softened his words and tones a little when he saw her, but still condemned Clinton’s error in severe terms. She admitted that he had acted unwisely, but mildly rebuked Mr. Walker for the severity of his reprimand, reminding him that Clinton was but a boy, and had probably done what he thought was right. She also spoke of the accident which Whistler met with, and of the busy preparations they had been making for the picnic, which had caused them almost to forget the fire.
Mr. Walker now started for home; but he had not proceeded far when he met Mr. Davenport, and he stopped to inform him of the discovery he had just made.
“Is that man drunk, or crazy, or what is the matter with him?” inquired Whistler, indignantly, as soon as Mr. Walker was out of hearing.
“No, Willie; he’s a fiery-tempered man,—that’s all that ails him,” replied his aunt.
“Well, if I hadn’t thought he was crazy, or drunk, or something of that kind, I wouldn’t have stood so much of his impudence,” added Whistler, whose courage rose as the choleric young man rode off.
“I know one thing,” said Clinton, “if Bill Walker ever talks to me in that way again, I’ll give him as good as he sends.”
“O, no; you don’t mean that,” replied his mother. “That would be putting yourself on a level with him; and I’m sure you wouldn’t wish to do that. His bad temper is a great injury to him. It is notorious all over town, and nobody respects him so much as they otherwise would, on account of it. He makes a great many enemies, too, and, I have no doubt, he feels heartily ashamed of himself when he gets over his fits of passion. I hope you will never try to meet such a man with his own weapons. The best way is to keep silence, or speak mildly. ‘He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city,’ as the Bible says. If you had been impudent to Mr. Walker, it would have made him more furious, and he would not get over his resentment half so easily; but now, he will soon get calmed down, and then he will see that he has treated you badly, and the next time you meet him he will be as kind to you as ever,—you see if he isn’t.”