Bert Lloyd's Boyhood: A Story from Nova Scotia

by Madeline Leslie

  CHAPTER XIX.

  VICTORY AND DEFEAT.

  As may be easily imagined, Dr. Johnston's severe punishment of RodGraham for having taken upon himself the part of an informer did nottend to make that young gentleman any more pleasant in his bearingtoward Bert. By some process of reasoning, intelligible only to himself,he held Bert accountable for the whipping he had received, and lost noopportunity of wreaking his vengeance upon him. Every now and thenduring that winter Bert had bitter proof of his enemy's unrelentinghate. It seemed as though there were no limit to Rod's ingenuity indevising ways of annoying him, and many a hot tear did he succeed inwringing from him.

  As spring drew near, this persecution grew more and more intolerable,and, without Bert himself being fully conscious of it, a crisis wasinevitable. This crisis came sooner, perhaps, than either Bert or Rodanticipated. One bright spring morning, as Bert, with satchel strappedupon his back, approached the school, feeling in high spirits, andlooking the very picture of a sturdy schoolboy, Rod, who had been inhiding behind a porch, sprang out upon him suddenly, snatched the capoff his head, and, with a shout of, "Fetch it, doggy; go, fetch it,"flung it into the middle of the street, that was now little better thana river of mud.

  This proved to be the last straw upon the back of Bert's endurance, andit broke it. With a quickness that gave his tormentor no chance to dodgeor defend himself, he doubled up his fist, shut his eyes tight, and,rushing at him, struck out with all his might. The blow could hardlyhave been more effective if Bert had been an expert in boxing, for hisfist landed full on Rod's left eye, sending him staggering backwardseveral paces, with his hands clapped over the injured optic. But hesoon recovered himself, and, with clenched fists, was rushing upon Bert,to pummel him fiercely, when Teter Johnston, who had just come up,sprang in between, and, catching Rod's uplifted arm, cried out, sternly:

  "Stop, now! none of that! This must be a fair fight, and you shan'tbegin until Lloyd is ready."

  Then turning to Bert, while Rod, who had too much respect for Teter'sprowess not to obey him, gave way with a malignant scowl, Teter said,encouragingly:

  "You must fight him, Bert. It's the only way to settle him. You'llthrash him all right enough. I'll see you through."

  Bert had a good many doubts about his thrashing "him all right enough,"but he was still too angry to think calmly, and, moreover, he was not alittle elated at the surprising success of his first blow, which,although struck at a venture, had gone so straight to the mark, and sohe nodded his head in assent.

  "Very well, then, it's a fight," said Teter to Rod. "In the yard at thenoon recess. You bring your second, Graham; I'll look after Bertmyself."

  The words were hardly uttered when the bell rung, and the boys had allto hurry to their places in the schoolroom.

  That morning was one of the most miserable poor Bert had ever spent. Hewas a prey to the most diverse feelings, and it was with the utmostdifficulty that he could bring his mind to bear sufficiently upon hislessons to keep his place in the classes. In the first place, he reallydreaded the fight with Rod Graham. Graham was older, taller, and muchmore experienced in such affairs, and Bert could see no reason why heshould hope for a victory over him. It was all well enough for dear oldFrank to say from time to time, as he noticed Bert's depression:

  "Keep up your spirit, Bert; you'll thrash him sure. And if you don't, Iwill, as sure as I'm alive."

  But that did not make the matter any clearer, for Bert would rather notget a thrashing at Rod's hands, even though Rod should get one atFrank's hands shortly after.

  Then, again, he did not feel at all certain that his father and motherwould approve of his having a fight with one of his schoolmates. Theydisliked anything of the kind, he knew well enough, and perhaps theywould not be willing to make an exception in this case. He wished verymuch he could ask their permission, but that, of course, was out of thequestion. The mere mention of such a thing would assuredly raise a howlof derision from the other boys, and even Teter Johnston would no doubtask contemptuously if "he was going to back out of it in that way."

  No, no; he must take the chances of his parents' approval, andlikewise--and here came in the third difficulty--of Dr. Johnston's also,for he could not help wondering what the doctor would think when heheard of it, as he was certain to do.

  Thus perplexed and bewildered, the morning dragged slowly along forBert, who would one moment be wishing that recess time could bepostponed indefinitely, and the next, impatient for its arrival.

  At length twelve o'clock struck, and the boys, who were by this time allfully aware of what was in the wind, crowded out into the yard andquickly formed a ring in the corner farthest away from the schoolroom.Into this ring presently stepped Rod Graham, looking very jaunty anddefiant, supported by Harry Rawdon, the fly catcher, the one friend hehad in the school. A moment later came Bert Lloyd, pale but determined,with Teter and Frank on either side of him, Frank wearing an expressionthat said as plainly as possible:

  "Whip my friend Bert, if you dare."

  It is neither necessary nor expedient to go into the details of thefight, which did not last very long. Acting on Teter's sage advice, Bertmade no attempt to defend himself, but rushing into close quarters atonce, sent in swinging blows with right and left hands alternately,striking Rod upon the face and chest, while the latter's blows fellprincipally upon his forehead; until finally, in the fourth round,Graham, whose face had suffered severely, gave up the contest, andcovering his head, with his hands, ran away from Bert, who was too tiredto pursue him.

  Great was the cheering at this conclusive result; and Bert, panting,perspiring, and exhausted, found himself the centre of a noisy throng ofhis schoolmates, who wrung his hand, clapped him upon the back, calledhim all sorts of names that were complimentary, and, in fact, gave him aregular ovation. After he had gone to the tap and bathed his hot face,Bert was very much pleased to find that the brunt of the battle hadfallen upon his forehead, and that, consequently, he would hardly bemarked at all. To be sure, when he tried to put his cap on, hediscovered that it would be necessary to wear it very much on the backof his head, but he felt like doing that, anyway, so it didn't matter.

  He would have liked to shake hands with Rod, and make it all up, but Rodwas not to be found. After fleeing from his opponent, he had snatched uphis coat, and, deserted even by Rawdon; who was disgusted at his runningaway, he had gone out into the street, and did not appear again for therest of the day.

  His victory worked a great change in Bert's feelings. He was no longertroubled about what his parents would think of the fight. He felt surethey would applaud him, now that he had come out of it with bannersflying, so to speak. And he was not far from right, either. Mrs. Lloyd,it is true, was a good deal shocked at first, and Mr. Lloyd questionedhim very closely; but when they heard the whole story, much of which,indeed, was already familiar to them, they both agreed that under thecircumstances Bert could not have acted otherwise, without placinghimself in a false position.

  "At the same time, Bert, dear," said his father, laying his hand uponhis shoulder, "as it is your first, so I hope it will be your lastfight. You have established your reputation for courage now. You cansustain it in other ways than by your fists."

  Dr. Johnston's method of showing that he was fully cognisant of theevent was highly characteristic. The next morning when Bert, withswollen forehead, and Rod, with blackened eyes, came before him in thesame class, he said, with one of his sardonic smiles:

  "Ah, Graham, I see Lloyd has been writing his autograph on you. Well,let that be an end of it. Shake hands with one another."

  Bert immediately put out his hand and grasped Rod's, which was but halfextended.

  "Very good," said the doctor. "We will now proceed with the lesson."

  One of the most interested and excited spectators of the fight had beenDick Wilding, a boy who will require a few words of description. He wasthe son of one of the merchant princes of the city, and was accustomedto everything that the highest
social station and abundant wealth couldprocure. He was a handsome young fellow, and although thoroughly spoiledand selfish, was not without his good points, a lavish generosity beingthe most noteworthy. This, of course, supplemented by his recklessdaring as regards all schoolboy feats, and natural aptitude forschoolboy sports, made him very popular at the school, and he had alarge following. Previous to Bert's decisive victory over Rod Graham, hehad not shown any particular interest in him, beyond committing himselfto the opinion that he was a "regular brick" on the occasion of thehoisting, and again, when Bert bore his whipping so manfully. But sincethe fight, he had exhibited a strong desire to have Bert join the circleof his companions, and to this end cultivated his society in a verymarked way.

  Now, this same Dick Wilding had been in Mrs. Lloyd's mind when she hadhesitated about Bert's going to Dr. Johnston's. She knew well what hisbringing up had been, and had heard several stories about him, whichmade her dread his being a companion for Bert. She had accordinglyspoken to Bert about Dick, and while taking care not to be too pointed,had made it clear that she did not want them to be intimate. This waswhen Bert first went to the school, and as there had seemed no prospectof anything more than a mere acquaintance springing up between the twoboys, nothing had been said on the subject for some time, so that it wasnot fresh in his mind when Dick, somewhat to his surprise, showed such adesire for his society.

  Dick's latest enterprise was the organisation of a cricket club, intowhich he was putting a great deal of energy. As the bats and balls andother necessary articles were to be paid for out of his own pocket, hefound no difficulty in getting recruits, and the list of members wasfast filling up. Bert had heard a good deal about this club, and wouldhave liked very much to belong to it, but as nobody belonged exceptthose who had been invited by Dick, his prospects did not seem verybright. Great then was his delight when one day at recess, Dick came upto him and said in his most winning way:

  "Say, Bert, don't you want to join my cricket club? I'd like to have youin."

  Bert did not take long to answer.

  "And I'd like to join ever so much," he replied, in great glee.

  "All right, then; consider yourself a member, and come round to thefield behind our house this afternoon. We practise there every day."

  Bert was fairly dancing with joy. Yet he did not forget his friendFrank. If Frank were not a member of the club, too, half the pleasure ofit would be gone. So before Dick went off, he ventured to say:

  "Frank Bowser would like to belong, too, I know. Won't you ask him?"

  "Certainly. No objection at all," replied Dick, in an off-hand way."Bring him along with you this afternoon."

  With beaming face, Bert rushed over to where Frank was busy playingmarbles, and drawing him aside, shouted rather than whispered in hisear:

  "I've got something splendid to tell you. Dick Wilding has asked us bothto join his cricket club, and we're to go to his field this veryafternoon."

  "You don't say so!" exclaimed Frank, his face now beaming as brightly asBert's. "Isn't that just splendid! I wanted to belong to that club everso much, but was afraid Dick wouldn't ask me."

  They had a capital game of cricket that afternoon in the Wilding field,which made a very good ground indeed, and not only that afternoon, butfor many afternoons as spring passed into summer and the days grewlonger and warmer. Bert told them at home about the club, but somehowomitted to mention the prominent part Dick Wilding played in it. Infact, he never mentioned his name at all, nor that it was his father'sfield in which the club met. This was the first step in a path of wrong,the taking of which was soon to lead to serious consequences.

  His reason for suppressing Dick Wilding's name was plain enough. He knewthat in all probability it would put an end to his connection with theclub. Now this club had every attraction for a boy like Bert that suchan organisation could possibly possess. It was select and exclusive, fornone could belong except those who were invited by Dick. The field was alovely place to play in, and they had it all to themselves. The ballsand bats and stumps were first-class, a fine set of cricket gear havingbeen one of Dick's Christmas presents; and, finally, Dick was alwaysbringing out to the players iced lemonade, or ginger beer, or sprucebeer, or something of the kind, which was wonderfully welcome to themwhen hot and tired and thirsty.

  With such strong arguments as these, Bert did not find it difficult toquiet his conscience when it troubled him, as it did now and then, andhe continued to be a great deal in Dick Wilding's society untilsomething happened which caused him to bitterly regret that he had notheeded the inward monitor, and kept away from the associations his wisemother wished him to avoid.

  Mrs. Lloyd had good reason for dreading Dick Wilding's companionship forher boy, as Dick could hardly fail to do Bert harm, while the chances ofBert doing him any good were very small, since he was quite a year olderand well set in his own ways. Dick's parents were thorough people of theworld. Their religion consisted in occupying a velvet-cushioned pew in afashionable church on Sunday morning, and doing as they pleased the restof the day. They made no attempt to teach their son anything more thangood manners, taking it quite for granted that the other virtues wouldspring up of themselves. Dick was not much to be blamed, therefore, ifhe had rather hazy views about right and wrong. He had not really anevil nature, but he had a very easy conscience, and the motto by whichhe shaped his conduct might well have been: "Get your own way. Get ithonestly, if you can. But--get it."

  Now, this cricket club had taken a great hold upon his fancy, and hiswhole heart was wrapped up in it. He was captain, of course, and all theother boys obeyed him implicitly. Their docility ministered to hispride, and he showed his appreciation by fairly showering his bountyupon them. There positively seemed no end to his pocket money. All sortsof expenses were indulged in. A fine tent was set up for the boys toput their hats and coats in and sit under when not playing, theginger-beer man had orders to call round every afternoon and leave adozen bottles of his refreshing beverage, and more than once the club,instead of playing, adjourned, at Dick's invitation, to an ice-creamsaloon, and had a regular feast of ice-cream. When some indiscreetcompanion would express his astonishment at the length of Dick's purse,the latter would answer, carelessly:

  "Plenty of funds. Father, and mother, and uncle all give me money.There's lots more where this came from," jingling a handful of silver ashe spoke. So, indeed, there was; but had it any business to be in MasterDick's pocket?

  This delightful state of affairs went on for some weeks, no one enjoyingit more than Bert, and then came a revelation that broke upon the boyslike a thunder-clap out of a clear sky.

  One evening, Mr. Wilding came over to see Mr. Lloyd, looking very graveand troubled. They had a long talk together in Mr. Lloyd's study, andwhen he went away Mr. Lloyd looked as grave and troubled as his visitor.After showing Mr. Wilding out, he called his wife into the library, andcommunicated to her what he had just heard, and it must have beensorrowful news, for Mrs. Lloyd's face bore unmistakable signs of tears,when presently she went out for Bert, who was hard at work upon hislessons in the dining-room.

  The moment Bert entered the room he saw that something was the matter.The faces of his father and mother were very sorrowful, and anindefinable feeling of apprehension took hold of him. He was not longleft in uncertainty as to the cause of the trouble.

  "Bert," said his father, gravely, "have you seen much of Dick Wildinglately?"

  Bert blushed, and hesitated a moment, and then answered:

  "Yes, father; a good deal. He's the captain of our cricket club, youknow."

  "I did not know until now that you have told me, Bert," said Mr. Lloyd,looking meaningly at him. "You never told me before, did you?"

  The colour deepened on Bert's face.

  "No, father; I don't think I did," he murmured.

  "Had you any reason for saying nothing about him, Bert? Were you afraidwe would not let you belong to the club if we knew that Dick Wilding wasits captain?" asked Mr. Lloyd.<
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  Bert made no reply, but his head drooped low upon his breast, and hishands playing nervously with the buttons of his coat told the wholestory more plainly than words could have done. Mr. Lloyd sighed deeplyand looked at his wife as though to say: "There's no doubt about it; ourboy has been deceiving us," while Mrs. Lloyd's eyes once more filledwith tears, which she turned away to hide.

  After a pause, during which Bert seemed to hear the beating of his ownheart as distinctly as the ticking of the big clock upon the mantel, Mr.Lloyd said, in tones that showed deep feeling:

  "We would have been sorry enough to find out that our boy had beendeceiving us, but what shall we say at finding out that he has been asharer in pleasures purchased with stolen money?"

  Bert looked up in surprise. Stolen money! What could his father mean?Mr. Lloyd understood the movement, and anticipated the unasked question.

  "Yes, Bert; stolen money. The beer, the candy, and the ice cream, whichDick Wilding lavished upon you so freely, were paid for with moneystolen from his mother's money drawer. He found a key which fitted thelock, and has taken out, no one knows just how much money; and you havebeen sharing in what that stolen money purchased."

  Bert was fairly stunned. Dick Wilding a thief! And he a sharer in theproceeds of his guilt! He felt as though he must run and hide himself.That Dick should do wrong was not entirely a surprise to him, but thathis sin in being a companion of Dick's on the sly should be found out inthis way, this it was which cut him to the heart. Without a word ofexcuse to offer, he sat there, self-condemned and speechless. Thesilence of the room was appalling. He could not bear it any longer.Springing from his chair, he rushed across the room, threw himself onhis knees before his mother, and putting his head in her lap, burst intoa paroxysm of tears, sobbing as though his heart would break.

  "Poor Bert, poor Bert!" murmured his mother, tenderly, passing her handsoftly over the curly head in her lap.

  Mr. Lloyd was deeply moved, and put his hand up to his eyes to concealthe tears fast welling from them. For some minutes the quiet of the roomwas broken only by Bert's sobs, and the steady ticking of the clock uponthe mantelpiece.

  Mr. Lloyd was the first to speak.

  "You had better get up and go to your room, Bert. We both know how sorryyou are, and we forgive you for having so disobeyed us. But we are notthe only ones of whom you must ask forgiveness. Go to your knees, Bert,and ask God to forgive you."

  Bert rose slowly to his feet, and, not venturing to look either hisfather or mother in the face, was going out of the door, when his fathercalled him back.

  "Just one word more, Bert. It is not long since you won a brave fight,and now you have been sadly defeated by a far worse enemy than RodGraham. You can, in your own strength, overcome human foes, but only byDivine strength can you overcome the tempter that has led you astraythis time. Pray for this strength, Bert, for it is the kind the Biblemeans when it says, 'Quit you like men, be strong.'"

  And with a look of deep affection, Mr. Lloyd let Bert go from him.