CHAPTER XVII
TOMMY had done wonders at his lessons during the first term at the high school and he had accomplished more than usual with his magic. And in any event his persistence and perseverance in the latter pursuit were impressive. For one experiment he had wanted a glass disc to be obtained by knocking the bottom out of a bottle, and after a year’s effort had recently succeeded with the seventy-third bottle—which had happened to be one Betty had given him. Wherefore, respect had been added to the affection Betty had always felt for her friend; and his words of encouragement in the case of Rose Harrow were to her mind the conclusions of a scientific observer and thinker.
Wherefore, those Christmas holidays were the happiest days the girl remembered. Even the futility of expecting an unseasonable thunderclap with the thermometer varying only between ten and twenty-five degrees above zero did not chill her happiness; for there was abundance of time, and anticipation was blissful. It was hard to refrain from confiding in Rose, but of course it would be hazardous if not fatal for her to expect the shock. Moreover, she seemed so happy that Betty believed she had a vague sense of something wonderful before her. And never a night passed when Betty did not pray for some unseasonable catastrophe or cataclysm which should bring joy to Rose without working harm elsewhere.
Mr. Meadowcroft first remarked a change in Betty on the day when he was leaving South Paulding for a journey to Philadelphia—the day before the New Year. He first realized, too, because of its absence, that for some time there must have been a slight shadow of anxiety upon the girl’s brow. But he said to himself it would return again when school opened. During the holidays the constant strain of Rose Harrow’s companionship had fallen from her, and unconsciously she expressed her relief. Betty and Tommy were at the train to see him off, and though he waved his hand gaily from the window, as soon as he turned he sighed and fell into troubled meditation. Betty Pogany was an over-burdened young girl, and apparently he was the only person to be aware of the fact. Bent on undue self-sacrifice, there was none to check her in her headlong career unless he should make the attempt. And what could he do?
Meadowcroft wished he were not going away. Furthermore, he had another reason for regretting that an appointment with a specialist took him to Philadelphia at this time. He would have liked to wait at least until after the return of Mr. Appleton, principal of the high school, who had seemed far from well for a fortnight before he had gone home for the holidays. In this case, too, he seemed almost alone in realizing the difficulty; for Mrs. Appleton was always so concerned with her own ailments that her husband would have had to be on his back in bed before it would have occurred to her that he wasn’t well.
Already Meadowcroft’s acquaintance with the school-master had ripened into warm friendship. All through the autumn, he had been a frequent visitor at the highschool, at first after hours, but presently a deeply interested observer during the sessions. And though at first he had had the carriage wait for him, after a short time he sent it back at once and went home on the train the South Paulding children took, walking to the train at Paulding and from the station to his sister’s. The first halting progress through the town of Paulding with its loafers and staring groups had been difficult; just as his first excursion across the floor of the main room of the high school with seventy-odd pairs of curious young eyes upon him had been an ordeal. But thereafter both processes had become progressively easier; and at this time he was vaguely aware that the uneven pound of his crutches on the school-room floor was a familiar and welcome sound both to master and pupils, all the latter of whom he could now call by name.
The year just closing had been that of a presidential election. Mr. Appleton wishing to go home to vote, had astonished Meadowcroft by asking him to take charge of the school for the day and to hear his classes. Overcoming some natural shrinking, Mr. Meadowcroft had complied with the request, and the day stood out from all others as a red-letter day in his life. Since then he had thrice taken classes: once, when Mr. Appleton wished to attend a funeral and twice during the last week of school when the principal’s cold had threatened to take away his voice.
Before he had gone far, it came to Humphrey Meadowcroft that it was something new for him to be leaving with regret a place that had become home to him. For years a journey had meant to him neither regret nor anticipation. It had been simply a bridge betweenmonotonies. He was fortunate to feel so loath to go, to be looking ahead eagerly already to the day when he might return again. For it meant that he had friends, and friends made South Paulding a home for one who had long been homeless. One friend would have meant much to his lonely heart, and he had three—three royal as well as loyal friends!