eyes away from the imploring look cast upon him as the culprit
came down from the platform, a disgraced boy.
Elder brothers are apt to be a little hard on younger ones, so it is
not surprising that Frank, who was an eminently proper boy, was
much cut up when Jack publicly confessed to dealings with Jerry,
leaving it to be supposed that the worst half of the story remained
untold. He felt it his duty, therefore, to collar poor Jack when he
came out, and talk to him all the way home, like a judge bent on
getting at the truth by main force. A kind word would have been
very comforting, but the scolding was too much for Jack’s temper,
so he turned dogged and would not say a word, though Frank
threatened not to speak to him for a week.
At tea-time both boys were very silent, one looking grim, the other
excited. Frank stared sternly at his brother across the table, and no
amount of marmalade sweetened or softened that reproachful look.
Jack defiantly crunched his toast, with occasional slashes at the
butter, as if he must vent the pent-up emotions which half
distracted him. Of course, their mother saw that something was
amiss, but did not allude to it, hoping that the cloud would blow
over as so many did if left alone. But this one did not, and when
both refused cake, this sure sign of unusual perturbation made her
anxious to know the cause. As soon as tea was over, Jack retired
with gloomy dignity to his own room, and Frank, casting away the
paper he had been pretending to read, burst out with the whole
story. Mrs. Minot was as much surprised as he, but not angry,
because, like most mothers, she was sure that her sons could not
do anything very bad.
“I will speak to him; my boy won’t refuse to give me some
explanation,” she said, when Frank had freed his mind with as
much warmth as if Jack had broken all the ten commandments.
“He will. You often call me obstinate, but he is as pig-headed as a
mule; Joe only knows what he saw, old tell-tale! and Jerry has left
town, or I’d have it out of him. Make Jack own up, whether he can
or not. Little donkey!” stormed Frank, who hated rowdies and
could not forgive his brother for being seen with one.
“My dear, all boys do foolish things sometimes, even the Wisest
and best behaved, so don’t be hard on the poor child. He has got
into trouble, I’ve no doubt, but it cannot be very bad, and he earned
the money to pay for his prank, whatever it was.”
Mrs. Minot left the room as she spoke, and Frank cooled down as
if her words had been a shower-bath, for he remembered his own
costly escapade, and how kindly both his mother and Jack had
stood by him on that trying occasion. So, feeling rather remorseful,
he went off to talk it over with Gus, leaving Jill in a fever of
curiosity, for Merry and Molly had dropped in on their way home
to break the blow to her, and Frank declined to discuss it with her,
after mildly stating that Jack was “a ninny,” in his opinion.
“Well, I know one thing,” said Jill confidentially to Snow-ball,
when they were left alone together, “if everyone else is scolding
him I won’t say a word. It’s so mean to crow over people when they
are down, and I’m sure he hasn’t done anything to be ashamed of,
though he won’t tell.”
Snow-ball seemed to agree to this, for he went and sat down by
Jack’s slippers waiting for him on the hearth, and Jill thought that a
very touching proof of affectionate fidelity to the little master who
ruled them both.
When he came, it was evident that he had found it harder to refuse
his mother than all the rest. But she trusted him in spite of
appearances, and that was such a comfort! For poor Jack’s heart
was very full, and he longed to tell the whole story, but he would