Part 86

"Don't send him off?" repeated Mr. Faber, dropping the paper knife, "what is the boy talking of! Why, Jasper--I've called you in here to tell you how much Pickering has improved and--"

Jasper collapsed on his chair. "And is it possible that you haven't seen it for yourself, Jasper?" exclaimed Mr. Faber. "Why, every teacher is quite delighted. Even Mr. Dinsmore--and he was in favor of at least suspending Pickering last half--has expressed his opinion that I did well to give the boy another trial."

"I thought--" mumbled Jasper, "I was afraid." Then he pulled himself together, and somehow found himself standing over by Mr. Faber's chair, unbosoming himself of his fright and corresponding joy.

"Pull your chair up nearer, Jasper," said Mr. Faber, when, the first transport having worked off, Jasper seemed better fitted for conversation, "and we will go over this in a more intelligent fashion. I am really more pleased than I can express at the improvement in that boy. As I said before"--Mr. Faber had long ago thrown aside the paper knife, and now turned toward Jasper, his whole attention on the matter in hand--"Pickering has a fine capacity; take it all in all, perhaps there is none better in the whole school. It shows to great advantage now, because he has regained his place so rapidly in his classes. It is quite astonishing, Jasper." And he took off his glasses and polished them up carefully, repeating several times during the process, "Yes, very surprising indeed!"

"And he seems to like to study now," said Jasper, ready to bring forward all the nice things that warranted encouragement.

"Does he so?" Mr. Faber set his glasses on his nose, and beamed at him over them. The boys at the Pemberton School always protested that this was the only use they could be put to on the master's countenance. "Well, now, Jasper, I really believe I am justified in entertaining a very strong hope of Pickering's future career. And I see no reason why he should not be ready for college with you, and without conditions, if he will only keep his ambition alive and active, now it is aroused."

"May I tell him so?" cried Jasper, almost beside himself with joy. "Oh, may I, Mr. Faber?"

"Why, that is what I called you in here for, Jasper," said the master. "It seemed so very much better for him to hear it from a boy, for I remember my own boyhood, though so very long since; and the effect will, I feel sure, be much deeper than if Pickering hears it from me. He is very tired of this study, Jasper," and Mr. Faber glanced around at the four walls, and again came that grim smile. "And even to hear a word of commendation, it might not be so pleasing to be called in. So away with you. At the proper time, I shall speak to him myself."

Jasper, needing no second bidding, fled precipitately--dashed in again. "Beg pardon, I'd forgotten my books." He seized them from the table, and made quick time tracking Pickering.

"Where is Pick?" rushing up to a knot of boys on a corner of the playground, just separating to go home.

"Don't know; what's up, King?"

"Can't stop," said Jasper, flying back to the schoolroom. "I must get Pick."

"Dodge has gone," shouted a boy clearing the steps, who had heard the last words. So Jasper, turning again, left school and playground far behind, to run up the steps of the Cabot mansion.

"Pickering here?"

"Yes." The butler had seen him hurrying over the stairs to his own room just five minutes ago. And in less than a minute Jasper was up in that same place.

There sat Pickering by his table, his long legs upon its surface, and his hands thrust into his pockets. His books sprawled just where he had thrown them, at different angles along the floor.

"Hullo!" cried Jasper, flying in, to stop aghast at this.

"Yes, you see, Jasper, I'm played out," said Pickering. "It isn't any use for me to study, and there are the plaguey things," pulling out one set of fingers to point to the sprawling books. "I can't catch up. Every teacher looks at me squint-eyed as if I were a hopeless case, which I am!"

"Oh, you big dunce!" Jasper clapped his books on the table with a bang, making Pickering draw down his long legs, rushed around to precipitate himself on the rest of the figure in the chair, when he pommelled him to his heart's content.

"If you expect to beat any hope into me, old boy," cried Pickering, not caring in the least for the onslaught, "you'll miss your guess."

"I'm hoping to beat sense into you," cried Jasper, pounding away, "though it looks almost impossible now," he declared, laughing. "Pick, you've won! Mr. Faber says you've come up in classes splendidly, and--"

Pickering sprang to his feet. "What do you mean, Jasper?" he cried hoarsely, his face white as a sheet.

"Just what I say."

"Say it again."

So Jasper went all over it once more, adding the other things about getting into college and all that, as much as Pickering would hear.

"Honest?" he broke in, his pale face getting a dull red, and seizing Jasper by the shoulders.

"Did I ever tell you anything that wasn't so, Pick?"

"No; but I can't believe it, Jap. It's the first time in my life I've--I've--" And what incessant blame could not do, praise achieved. Pickering rushed to the bed, flung himself face down upon it, and broke into a torrent of sobs.