Chapter 42

DOWNWARD PROGRESS

The next day was Saturday. Oscar was off most of the day with his comrades, among whom he was quite a lion for the time. During one of the brief intervals that he was in the house, his mother said some thing about his going to school on Monday.

"O dear, I don't want to go to school again this term," said Oscar. "What's the use? Why, it 's only four or five weeks before the term will be through."

"I know that," replied his mother, "but your father is very anxious that you should get into the High School, and he thinks you can do it if you finish up this term."

"I can't do it--I 've got all behindhand with my studies," said Oscar.

"O yes, you can if you try," replied his mother. "You might have got into the High School last year if you had studied a little harder. You were almost qualified then, and I'm sure you ought to be now. If you find you are behind your class in your lessons, you must study so much the harder, and you 'll get up with them by-and-bye."

"But I don't believe it will do me any good to be confined in the school-room," continued Oscar. "I don't think I'm so strong as I was before I was sick."

"Well," said Mrs. Preston, "when you 're sick you need not go to school; but I guess there 's no danger of your staying at home for that reason, at present. You never looked better in your life than you do now."

Oscar tried his pleas again in the evening with his father, but with quite as poor success. He saw that it was fully determined that he should resume his seat at school, and he reluctantly submitted to this decision. When Monday morning came, he proceeded to school, but found that his old desk was in possession of another boy. The head teacher in Oscar's department soon appeared, and seemed quite glad to see him once more. He appointed Oscar a new seat, and told him he hoped he would study so diligently as to make up for lost time.

The hopes of Oscar's teacher and parents were doomed to disappointment. It was soon evident that he cared less about his lessons than ever. He was behind his class, and instead of redoubling his efforts to get up with them, he became discouraged and indifferent. His recitations were seldom perfect, and often they were utter failures. His teachers coaxed, and encouraged, and ridiculed, and frowned, and punished, all in vain. One day, after Oscar had blundered worse than usual, the teacher who was hearing the recitation said to him, in a despairing tone:

"You remind me, Oscar, of what one of the old Roman emperors said to an archer who shot his arrows a whole day, and never once hit the mark. He told him he had a most wonderful talent for missing. So I must say of you--you 've got the greatest talent for missing of any boy I know."

Seeing a smile on the faces of Oscar's classmates, he added:

"But this is too sober a matter to make light of. If you could not get your lessons, it would be a different matter; but I know, and you know, that this is not the trouble. You are quick enough to learn and to understand, when you have a mind to be. If you would only try to get your lessons as hard as the other boys do, you would n't be at the foot of the class a great while. If you keep on in this way, you will see your folly as plainly as I see it now, before you are many years older."

This admonition had little effect upon Oscar. When school was dismissed, a few minutes after, he rushed out with as light a step as any of his comrades, and his gay laugh was heard as soon as he reached the entry. In the general scramble for caps, one had fallen from its peg, and instead of replacing it, two or three of the boys were making a football of it. Oscar joined the sport, and gave the cap a kick that sent it part of the way down stairs. A moment after, he met Willie Davenport returning with it.

"Halloo, Whistler, that is n't your cap, is it?" inquired Oscar.

"No, but it's _somebody's_," said the good-hearted boy, as he brushed off the dust, and put the lining back into its place. He was about hanging it up, when Benny Wright appeared, and claimed it as his property.

Had Oscar known that the cap was Benny's, he would not have made a foot-ball of it. He remembered the kind epistle he received, when sick, and the amusement it afforded him, when amusements were scarce. Since his recovery, he had treated Benny with much more consideration than before, and quite a kindly feeling had sprung up between them.

Oscar's inattention to his studies was not his only fault at school. His general behavior was worse than it had ever been before. Vexed that he was compelled to return to school so near the expiration of the term, it seemed as though he was determined to make as little improvement in his studies, and as much trouble for his teachers, as he could. He not only idled away his own time, but he disturbed other boys who were disposed to study. He was repeatedly reproved and punished, but reproof and punishment did no good; on the contrary, they seemed rather to make him worse. The teachers at length gave him up as incorrigible, and consoled themselves with the thought that his connection with the school would cease in two or three weeks, at which time his class would graduate. They still aimed to keep him in check, during school hours, but they ceased spending their time and breath in trying to bring about a reformation in his conduct.

One day as the scholars were engaged in writing, the master, while passing along among the boys, and inspecting their writing-books, noticed that somebody had been spitting what appeared to be tobacco juice, near Oscar's seat. This was a violation of the rules of the school, and the teacher concluded not to let it pass unnoticed. Having no doubt, from several circumstances, that Oscar was the offender, he said to him:

"Oscar, what are you chewing tobacco in school for, and spitting the juice on the floor?"

"I have n't chewed any tobacco this afternoon," replied Oscar.

"What is it, then, that you have been spitting upon the floor?" inquired the teacher.

"I have n't spit upon the floor," replied Oscar.

"Who did that?" continued the teacher, pointing to the puddle upon the floor.

"I don't know," said Oscar; "it was there when I took my seat."

It was possible that Oscar told the truth, but the teacher had his doubts. He might perhaps, have settled the matter at once by putting a question to one or two of the boys who sat near the supposed offender but as he always avoided the system of making one boy inform against another, when he could properly do so, he took another course. He told Oscar, if he had any tobacco in his mouth, or anywhere about his person, to give it up to him. Oscar declared that he had none.

"Let me look into your mouth," said the teacher.

Oscar had a small piece of the weed in his mouth, which he tucked behind his upper lip with his tongue, and then opened his mouth. The teacher of course saw nothing but what belonged there. He _smelt_ something, however, that left him no longer in doubt that Oscar had told a falsehood.

"I can't see your cud, but I can smell it plain enough," said the master; "and I 'll examine your pockets, if you please."

Oscar was far from pleased with this proposition, and tried to prevent its being carried into effect. The master, however, easily overcame the difficulties he put in the way, and running his hand into the pocket which he seemed most anxious to defend, brought forth a piece of tobacco large enough to kill a horse!

"What is that?" he inquired, holding the contraband article before Oscar.

Oscar neither looked at it nor made any reply.

"And you are the boy who said a moment ago that you had no tobacco about you," continued the master "I declare I don't know what to do with you. I have said and done all that I can to make a better boy of you, and now I shall report this matter to your father, and let him settle it with you. But I want you to remember one thing. When you tell me a lie, you break God's law, and not mine; and you can't settle the matter in full with me, or any other human being."

The teacher then threw the piece of tobacco out of the open window, and taking Oscar's writing-book, told him he would set a new copy for him. He soon returned, with the following line written upon the top of a clean page:

"_Lying lips are abomination to the Lord._"

As Oscar wrote this fearful sentence over and over again, he could not fully escape the force of its meaning. It reminded him of his feelings during his recent illness, when at times the terrible thought that his sickness might possibly be unto death intruded upon his mind. But thoughts of God, and death, and a future world, were alike unpleasant to him, and he banished them as speedily as possible.

During the afternoon, the principal of the school wrote a letter to Mr. Preston, informing him of Oscar's indolence and bad conduct, and referring particularly to the incident that had just occurred. By way of offset to the complaint, he spoke in very high terms of Ralph, who attended the same school, but was in another department and another room. He sent the letter by Ralph, but told him not to let Oscar know anything about it. Ralph had some suspicions of the nature of the letter, but he did his errand faithfully, going directly from school to his father's store.

Mr. Preston was at first very much irritated by the teacher's complaints of Oscar's misconduct; and could he have taken the culprit in hand at the time, he would probably have handled him rather roughly. But several days elapsed before he found it convenient to talk with Oscar about the matter, and by this time his passion had subsided into anxiety and sorrow. He showed Oscar the letter, in which he, the eldest son, was severely censured, and his little brother was so highly commended. With tears in his eyes, he warned him of the dangers before him, and entreated him to change his course.

Oscar had never seen his father exhibit so much emotion before. Usually, on such occasions, he was stern, if not passionate; more ready to threaten and punish than to appeal to the heart and conscience. Now, all this was changed, and sorrow seemed to have taken the place of anger. Oscar was somewhat affected by this unusual manifestation of parental anxiety. He was pretty well hardened against scoldings and threatenings, but he did not know how to meet this new form of rebuke. He tried to conceal his feelings, however, and preserved a sullen silence throughout the interview.

This affair made no abiding impression upon Oscar. In a day or two it was forgotten, and the slight compunctions he felt had entirely disappeared. But the schoolmaster's complaint was soon followed by another that was quite as unpleasant. As Mrs. Preston was sitting at her sewing, one day, the door suddenly opened, and in came Bridget, the servant girl, with a face as red as rage and a hot fire could make it.

"I'll be goin' off this night, ma'am--I'll pack me chist, and not stop here any longer at all," said Bridget, in a tone that betokened her anger.

"Going off--what do you mean? You don't say you 're going to leave us so suddenly, Biddy?" inquired Mrs. Preston, with surprise.

"Yes, that I be," replied Bridget, very decidedly; "I 'll not be after staying in the same house with that big, ugly b'y, another day."

"Who, Oscar? What has he done now?" inquired Mrs. Preston.

"He's did nothing but bother the life out o' me ivery day since he coom back, that's jist all he 's did," replied Biddy. "Jist now, ma'am, he slopped over a hull basin o' dirty whater right on to the clane floor, and thin laffed at me, and sassed me, and called me, all sorts o' bad names--the little sass-box! It's not the like o' Bridget Mullikin that 'll put up with his dirty impidence another day. I 'd like to live with ye, ma'am, and Mister Pristen, good, nice man that he is but I can't stop to be trated like a dog by that sassy b'y."

"I 'll go and see what he has been about," said Mrs. Preston, laying down her work.

When they reached the kitchen, Oscar was not to be found. There was the puddle of dirty water upon the floor, however, and so far Bridget's story was corroborated. As she proceeded to wipe it up, she continued to speak in not very complimentary terms of the "ugly b'y," as she delighted to call Oscar. It was in vain that Mrs. Preston attempted to soothe her ruffled spirits. She refused to be comforted, and insisted upon taking her departure from the house that night.

Oscar did not make his appearance again until late in the afternoon. When his mother called him to account for his treatment of Bridget, he denied the greater part of her story. He said that the basin of water was standing upon the floor, and that he accidentally hit it with his foot, and upset it. He denied that he called her bad names or was impudent, but he admitted that he laughed, to see her so angry. He also complained that she was as "cross as Bedlam" to him, and "jawed" him whenever he entered the kitchen.

Mrs. Preston, puzzled by these contradictory stories, brought the two contending parties face to face, in hope of either eliciting the truth or effecting a treaty of peace between them. She failed in both objects, however. Bridget not only adhered to her first statement, but boldly accused Oscar of sundry other misdeeds that had come up in recollection since the first outbreak; while Oscar, on the other hand, stoutly denied most of her charges, and insisted that she was ill-natured, and irritated him in every possible way. The contest finally waxed so warm between them that Mrs. Preston was obliged to interpose, and to withdraw with Oscar.

Mrs. Preston never ascertained the real facts in the case. Candor compels me to say that Bridget's complaints were essentially true. Knowing the poor Irish girl's weak side (her quick temper), Oscar had for some time taxed his ingenuity to torment her, for the sake of hearing her "sputter," as he termed it. He was not only impudent, and applied offensive names to her, but sometimes he purposely put her to extra labor and trouble by misplacing articles, making dirt about the house, &c. These things were a sad annoyance to Bridget, and she soon came to regard Oscar as "the plague of her life," and treated him accordingly. He did very wrong to annoy her in this way; and she was foolish to take so much notice of his hectoring. The ill-will thus established between them grew day by day, until it resulted in the open rupture just described. But Mrs. Preston did not give full credit to Bridget's story. She believed the difficulty was owing quite as much to Biddy's irritable temper and ignorance as to Oscar's impudence, and consequently the latter escaped with a slight reprimand. She also prevailed upon Bridget to remain with them the week out, thinking she would by that time get over her anger. But, to the surprise of all, when Saturday night came, Bridget took her departure. She had got another "place," where she would be out of the reach of the provoking Oscar.

The week for the annual examination of the public schools soon arrived. Oscar begged hard, but in vain, for permission to absent himself, on the eventful day that the grave committee and other distinguished visitors were to sit in judgment upon the condition of the school to which he belonged. But though he was present, he did not appear to much advantage among the "bright particular stars" of the day; and as one and another of the flower of his class were called out, to receive the "Franklin medals," his name was not heard, and no silken ribbon, with silver medal attached, was hung around his neck.

The same day, in obedience to the orders of his father, but very much against his own inclination, Oscar applied to the head master for the certificate required of boys who present themselves for admission to the High School. The teacher seemed a little puzzled what reply to make. At length he said:

"Do you know what kind of a certificate is required?"

"Yes, sir," replied Oscar, who had read the advertisement in the paper that morning.

"The certificate must say that you are a boy of good character, and that your teacher believes you are qualified for admission to the High School," continued the master. "Now I want to ask you if you think I can honestly say that of you?"

Oscar hung his head in shame, but made no reply. It had turned out just as he feared it would.

"It is very hard to refuse such a request," continued the teacher; "but, really, if I should give you the certificate, I am afraid it would do you no good, while it might do me some harm, for I don't like to have my scholars rejected. I cannot honestly say that I think you are qualified for the High School; and besides your conduct has been such of late, that I do not see how I could give you a very high recommendation. I would advise you to give up the idea of applying for admission. I am very sorry it is so, but that will not help the matter."

What could Oscar say to this? He said nothing, but his looks betrayed the deep mortification he felt, and moved his teacher to pity, while he denied his request. Nor was this the end of Oscar's troubles. He had got to face his father, and to confess to him that he was found unworthy even to be a candidate for the school for which he had so long been preparing. In doing this, he smoothed over the matter as well as he could; but at best it was a bitter thing to him, and thus he began to experience some of the sad but natural effects of his own misconduct.