If Edward Lawton was surprised the next morning when Ray entered the school yard with a pair of skates in his hand so like the broken ones that he could not tell the difference, he was even more surprised to find that day after day went by without any one's speaking of the dastardly deed. "Ray thinks by keeping quiet about the affair he'll find out the sooner who did it," he finally thought, "but I'll show him he is mistaken."
He refrained, however, for some time, from doing anything that would call special attention to the perpetrator, and contented himself by creating those little annoyances liable to occur in every school. Ray's books were mislaid, his pens and paper mysteriously disappeared, examples were erased from his slate, and a dozen other things, equally annoying, happened to hinder him in his work. Ray suspected at the outset who was guilty of these things, but he manifested no difference from first to last in his courtesy toward Edward. Nor could these things be entirely concealed from the other members of the class, and they, too, suspected the perpetrator, while they all wondered that Ray bore the annoyances so patiently, and evinced no desire for retaliation.
So matters went on for a number of weeks, and then another marked evidence of Edward Lawton's spite occurred. Mr. Greenough had, with this term, adopted a new custom. On each Friday the senior class reviewed the studies of the week. One Friday morning after the school had begun, Mr. Greenough called the attention of the algebra class to certain examples he had placed upon the blackboard, requesting that each member of the class perform them, and, copying them neatly on paper, hand them in to him when they came up to recite in the afternoon.
"These examples merely illustrate principles we have studied this week, and I shall expect each one of you to hand them to me," he said. "If you have not performed them when the class comes up for recitation, you must remain after school until they are completed."
Before noon Ray had worked the examples, and copying them upon paper, he folded them neatly, and laid them in his algebra. In the afternoon when the class was called, he found they were no longer in his book. He turned over his books hurriedly, but could not find them, and then came forward to his class with a look of embarrassment upon his face. When Mr. Greenough asked for his paper, he said:
"I worked the examples this forenoon, Mr. Greenough, and placed them in my algebra, but I cannot find them now. Possibly I have mislaid them. May I return to my desk and see?"
A look of annoyance passed over Mr. Greenough's face, but he gave the desired consent. Ray returned to his seat, looked thoroughly on and within his desk, opened every book, and then, with chagrin clearly depicted in his countenance, returned to the class.
"I cannot find them," he said; "but I certainly performed them."
"It is strange," said Mr. Greenough, a little impatiently, looking at Edward Lawton and not at Ray as he spoke, "it is strange, Ray, that you who are usually so careful in everything else should so often mislay, just at the moment of recitation, that which is most necessary to the success of your work. Possibly your paper may have dropped upon the floor, and some scholar has found it. If so, I trust he will be honorable enough to hand it to me before the close of school. If not, I see no other alternative: you must remain after school and perform the examples again."
"Yes, sir," replied Ray. And the recitation was resumed.