But Mr. Bright was very anxious about "Dodd" Weaver. When he came to reflect, he was glad that he had not met him while in pursuit of him.

Yet the question remained, what should be done when they did meet? He thought about this, deep down in his soul, all the rest of the morning.

When noon came he was as much as ever at a loss how to proceed. One of the worst features of the case, as he thought about it, was this: "Dodd" had been going to school to him now a year and a half, and he had begun to think that he had a permanent hold upon the boy. But here it was again, back in the same old notch, and as bad as ever. It does take so long to make anything permanent in the way of character! You have found it so yourself, haven't you, beloved? In your own case, I mean.

But on his way home to dinner Mr. Bright saw Mrs. Weaver out in the yard, and remembering how much a mother may sometimes do for her son, he went over and took her into counsel on the case. The machine would not have done this either.

It is a rule of the mill not to consult with parents. If parents wish consultation, let them talk to a stack of examination papers, or a record-book. This will soon cure them of their desire to consult.

Mrs. Weaver heard Mr. Bright's statement with tear-filled eyes. She had seen "Dodd" improve in every line of his life, for some months, and had begun to form bright plans for the future of her redeemed first-born. But, alas! here seemed to be the end of all her hopes.

However, she tried to apologize for her son, and, in any event, she begged Mr. Bright not to give "Dodd" up yet. But the master shook his head gravely.

"And another thing," pursued Mrs. Weaver, "I think it will be best not to let 'Dodd's' father know anything about this. He is such a pa.s.sionate man that I am sure he would fly into a rage and attempt to beat the boy if he should find it out. And he and 'Dodd' are so much alike! If they should get into a quarrel, I fear that one might kill the other before they could be parted."

Yet these persons were father and son, and one of them was a successful minister and a devout man--most of the time,

"You see," Mrs. Weaver continued, "that my husband has such a high opinion of you as a man, and he knows that you have done so much for 'Dodd,' that if he should find out how abominably the boy has treated you, he would be ten times more angry than ever. So let us keep the matter to ourselves, if possible. I will see 'Dodd' as soon as he comes home, and will try what I can do. And if prayer, or--"

"There, there," broke in Mr. Bright, quietly, as the br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes of the woman before him began to overflow, "do what you can with the boy, and I will not give him up till I have to;" and so saying, he went on to dinner.

But in a country town news travels fast. As soon as school was out at noon, three-score tongues were busy retailing the mild scandal to attentive listeners, whenever met.

Parson Weaver sat in the postoffice, reading a "daily" that had just arrived, when a boy came in, and not noticing the Elder, began to tell the tale to the knot of men who stood about. They heard the story through, with many "I-told-you-so" nods, and then, one by one, slipped out of the office. Last of all Parson Weaver went also.

He went straight to Mr. Bright's house and pulled the door bell impetuously.

The teacher admitted him, and began immediately to try to soothe the infuriated feelings of the parson, who was really very angry.

"I hope the matter may come out all right," said the teacher, "for I trust that 'Dodd' will see things as they are, when he comes to himself."

"Tell me just what happened," said the parson, with a kind of desperation.

Mr. Bright carefully went over the particulars. When he had finished, he added:

"I shall be very grateful to you for anything you can do to help us all out of this dilemma and get 'Dodd' on his feet again. For what we must do, in any event, is to save the boy."

"I shall do all in my power," returned Mr. Weaver, "but I thought he was doing so well with you, and now he is all at sea again," and with a groan he left the house.

Mr. Bright sat down to dinner and ate a few hurried mouthfuls.

He had just risen from his slight repast, when a twin Weaver burst into the room and shouted out:

"Pap wants you to come over to the house as quick as you kin," and having thus said, he turned and ran.

Mr. Bright remembered the words of "Dodd's" mother, and he feared that father and son had closed in deadly conflict. He hurried down the street, and made all haste toward the parsonage.

CHAPTER XV.

When Parson Weaver left Mr. Bright's house he went directly home.

"Dodd" was there before him, and when the elder arrived he found the boy and his mother together, both apparently indignant and excited.

"To think that he should have struck you over the head with a stick,"

exclaimed Mrs. Weaver, "and then should have the face to come here and trump up a story about your running away! I always did more than half suspect that man of lying, and I have found him out now!"

"Why, what is this?" inquired the parson, with a puzzled look.

"Mr. Bright has been striking 'Dodd' over the head with a stick,"

explained Mrs. Weaver; "just see where he hit him!" She pushed the hair back off her son's forehead as she spoke, and revealed a long red streak, made, apparently, by a blow from some solid substance.

Elder Weaver was dumbfounded. "Tell me all about this affair," he demanded of "Dodd," as he led the way to another room, leaving Mrs.

Weaver to go on with her housework.

"All there is of it," answered "Dodd," "Old Bright gave me some of his lip because I couldn't do an example, and when I tried to explain he got mad and hit me over the head with a club, and so I got up and left."

"Is that the actual truth of the matter?" asked the elder, anxiously.

"You don't think I'd lie about a thing like that, do you?" said "Dodd."

"You can see where he hit me," he proceeded, himself revealing the welt on his forehead.

This mark was too much for the good parson. He might have doubted "Dodd's" word, but there was no disputing the mark.

Now a welt raised by a teacher on the body of a child will drive that child's parents to madness quicker than anything that I know of. The elder grew very angry, and resolved to see the end of this as soon as possible. Calling a younger member of the household to him he whispered in his ear:

"Run up to Prof. Bright's as fast as you can, and tell him to come down here as quick as possible." He would bring "Dodd" and his teacher face to face, and then see.

It was this messenger that had brought the teacher to the parsonage on the double-quick.

"Dodd" saw his little brother shoot out of the door, and he was in a worse dilemma than ever. Whether to run, or to stay and face it out; to lie some more, or to confess the lie he had already told; these were the things he grew more and more anxious about every minute. But presently he caught sight of his teacher hurrying down the street, and almost before he knew it he said:

"It's all a lie I've been giving you, old man! Bright never hit me a lick!"

"But the mark!" almost shrieked the parson.

"I done it myself," explained "Dodd," laconically, "to give you and the old woman a stand off with!"

It was just as "Dodd" said this that Mr. Bright opened the door and entered the room. "Dodd" was seated near one corner, and his father, having just heard from the boy's own lips a full confession of his wholesale lying, began raving like a maniac. He swung his arms wildly, weeping and shouting as he strode about the room:

"My son! my son! Would to G.o.d that you had filled an early grave, or that I had died for thee! O, my son! my son!" and uttering such lamentations he continued to rave.

"Why, what is this?" exclaimed Mr. Bright, rather at a loss to know just what to say or do.

"O professor," almost yelled the parson, "my boy has lied to me! lied to me!! lied to me!!!" and again he paced the room and tore his hair.

Coming around again to where Mr. Bright stood, he went on: "He told me that you struck him with a club, and showed me a mark on his head where he said you had hit him, and then, when I sent for you, and he saw you coming, he confessed that it was all a lie! a lie!! a lie!!! O, my G.o.d, my boy! my lost, my ruined boy! A liar!" he shrieked again. "In h.e.l.l they shall lift up their eyes in torm--"

"Stop!" commanded Mr. Bright, confronting the almost lunatic parson; "stop raving and sit down, and let us talk about this business like sensible people," and he led Mr. Weaver to a chair as he spoke.