Ben Buffum was biding his time.

In the seat in front of Ben sat Albert Frost, a much smaller boy.

One day, toward the close of the afternoon, a loud shriek was heard in the neighborhood of Ben Buffum's desk.

Walter looked up and saw Albert in tears.

"What is the matter, Albert?" asked Walter.

"Ben Buffum stuck a pin in my leg," answered the boy. "Is that true, Buffum?" demanded Walter sternly.

"Yes, it is," answered Ben, with provoking calmness.

Walter's temper was stirred, but he asked in his ordinary tones: "Why did you do it?"

"Because I chose," answered Ben.

"Then," said Walter, giving full vent to his scorn, "you are a contemptible coward and brute!

"You forget that in this schoolroom I am the master, and consider it my duty to defend my pupils, even the smallest, from the violence of brutes."

"He'll have to pay for this," he muttered to himself. "I can lick you, Walter!" he said, with an insolent leer.

He had hardly got the words out of his mouth when Walter was upon him.

He was wonderfully quick in his movements, whereas Ben, though powerful, was slow, and before he well knew what was going to happen he was dragged by the collar from his seat into the middle of the floor. Walter let go for a minute, and Ben, mad all over, prepared to grasp him in a bearlike hug. A stinging blow in the face convinced him that he had entirely underrated the powers of the teacher. He tried to return the blow, but, unable to defend himself, found his own blow parried and another planted in his chest, causing him to stagger. Then Ben lost all caution, and with a furious cry rushed upon Walter, in hope of throwing him down by wrestling. But, instead, he found himself lying on his back on the floor, looking up at the teacher.

Ben got up slowly and "pitched in" once more, but in about a minute he found himself again in a rec.u.mbent position.

"Have you had enough?" asked Walter.

"I hit my head," answered Ben, in a sulky tone.

"I hope you are not seriously hurt," said Walter, quietly. "If you would like to be dismissed now, you may go. I shall be glad to see you back here to-morrow."

Without a word, but looking intensely mortified, Ben took his hat and slunk out of the room.

When he had gone Walter said: "Scholars, I want to ask of you a favor.

Ben is mortified by what has happened. I wish you would all abstain from reminding him of it. In that case the lesson he has received may do him good."

The next day Ben Buffum stayed at home, and did not show himself on the street till evening. When he found that no one spoke to him of the affair he took courage to go to school the day after. Walter overtook him on the way and hailed him in a friendly manner with: "We will forget all about that little affair day before yesterday, Ben. You are pretty strong."

"I couldn't do nothin' against you."

"No, because I have taken lessons in boxing."

"I'd like to box."

"If you'll come round and see me this evening, Ben, I'll give you the first lesson."

The scholars were very much surprised to see Ben and the teacher walking to school together, and were further surprised at the wonderful change for the better that took place in the once rebellious pupil.

CHAPTER XLI

CONCLUSION

Mrs. Deborah Simpkins, a near neighbor of Doctor Mack, was an ill- natured gossip, and had always disliked Walter because he once interfered to prevent a boy of hers from abusing a young companion.

One day about two months later she put on her bonnet and with a smile of malicious satisfaction walked over to the doctor's house.

"How do you do, Mrs. Sprague?" she said. "I thought I'd run over and have a chat with you."

"Come in, Mrs. Simpkins," said Nancy, civilly, but not cordially, for she did not like her visitor.

"I've got something unpleasant to tell you," went on the widow, as she sat down in a rocker. "I'm awful sorry."

"Are you?" said Nancy, dryly. "What's it all about?"

"I got a letter from my niece Sophrony, out in Iowa, yesterday, and she sent me a cuttin' from an old paper. It's somethin' awful!"

"Is it?"

"Yes, and it's about Walter Sherwood!" continued Mrs. Simpkins, triumphantly.

"He hasn't met with an accident, has he?" inquired Nancy, turning pale.

"It's wuss than that!" answered the widow, nodding her head ominously.

"Worse than an accident?"

"Yes; leastways, I call it so."

"Let me hear it, then, Mrs. Simpkins."

"Here 'tis; you can read it for yourself."

This was the paragraph:

"A young man named Walter Sherwood was arrested yesterday, charged with stealing a valuable mare belonging to Colonel Richard Owen. We understand his trial is to take place this morning."

"When is the paper dated?" asked Nancy, who did not appear so much overcome as her visitor expected.

"Over two months since. Walter Sherwood is probably in jail now. I feel for you and the doctor," said Mrs. Simpkins, in a tone far from sympathetic, fixing her beadlike eyes on the housekeeper.

"That's very good of you, but, as we got a letter from Walter yesterday, there ain't no call to be troubled."