CHAPTER VI.JERRY AND CLINTON.
Soonafter Oscar left Brookdale, Jerry’s father, who was interested in the logging business, started for the head-waters of the Penobscot river, to be absent several months. Large parties or gangs of loggers, as they are called, encamp every winter in the forests of Maine, for the purpose of cutting timber. After the trees are chopped down, the logs are hauled by oxen to the banks of some stream, where they remain until the ice breaks up in the spring, when they are rolled into the water, and floated down the swollen river, to the mills. Such was the business which kept Mr. Preston away from his home nearly half the year.
Jerry’s conduct had never been very dutiful towardhis mother, nor very affectionate toward his little sisters, during his father’s long absences from home; but now it was soon evident that he was going to give the family much more trouble than ever before. He obeyed his mother only when her commands happened to be perfectly agreeable to him.
One day, Jerry’s little sister, Mary, came running into, the house, saying:—
“O, mother, Jerry has got two beautiful little rabbits, the cunningest little things you ever saw; and he says they are his, and he’s going to make a house for them out of the old grain-chest in the barn.”
“No, he wont,” said Mrs. Preston; “he shan’t keep rabbits,—his father has forbidden it over and over again. Go and tell him to come here this minute; I want to see him.”
Mary ran out to the barn and told Jerry all that his mother had said. He took no notice, however, of her command, but kept at work upon the old chest, which he was converting into a rabbit-house. Mrs. Preston was busy about her work, and did not go out to the barn to see what her son was about. In fact, she soon forgot about the rabbits, and did not think of themagain until Jerry came in to supper. She then asked him if he had brought some rabbits home.
“Yes,” replied Jerry.
“Well,” said Mrs. Preston, “you had better carry them off again just as quick as you can, or I shall get James to kill them.” James was a young man who lived on Mr. Preston’s farm.
“I should like to see Jim kill my rabbits,” replied Jerry; “I guess it wouldn’t be healthy for him to do it.”
“But you know,” replied his mother, “that your father has always refused to let you keep rabbits. They may do a great deal of mischief, and are of no use whatever. They’ll be a real trouble to you, too, and you’ll soon get sick of them. Come, I wouldn’t keep them. Send them off, and I will make it up to you in something else.”
“What else?” inquired Jerry, who was always ready to listen, when his mother proposed to “buy him off” from doing anything she did not like.
“O, I don’t know now,” she replied; “you’ll want something or other by-and-by, and if you send the rabbits off, I shall probably let you have it.”
Jerry did not accept this rather indefinite offer, andpretty soon the topic of conversation was changed. The next day he completed the quarters for his rabbits, in spite of the threats of James, and the feeble remonstrances and coaxings of his mother. He kept them shut up several days, that they might learn to feel at home; after which, he left their door open, giving them the run of the barn and garden.
The rabbits had enjoyed their liberty but three or four days, when one morning James discovered, to his astonishment, that they had completely stripped the bark, as high up as they could reach, from about thirty young apple and pear trees, which Mr. Preston had set out two or three years previous. The excitement which this discovery produced in the family was so great as almost to make even Jerry tremble for a while. The trees thus destroyed were choice varieties, and it would require several years’ time, as well as much care and money, to make good the loss. The blame was, of course, thrown entirely upon Jerry, to whom it belonged; and it was many days before he heard the last of the scolding and fretting in consequence of this mishap. As to the rabbits, he never saw them again; and, as he made no inquiries, henever knew what fate befel them. James, in the heat of his wrath, had despatched them both, without jury or trial, on the morning when their depredations were first discovered.
It was natural that Jerry should greatly miss Oscar, with whom he had associated continually, day and night, for several months. Indeed, he began to think seriously of running away from home, and going to Boston, that he might be with his cousin again, and participate with him in some of the marvellous scenes and adventures which Oscar had so often described. In his lonesomeness, Jerry now began to seek the company of Clinton more than ever. The district school soon commenced for the season, and as both boys attended it, they were thrown together much oftener than in the summer months. In going to and from school, Clinton had to pass Jerry’s house, and they usually kept each other company by the way. For some reason or other,—probably a suspicion that Clinton’s parents did not like him very well,—Jerry seldom went to Mr. Davenport’s house. Of course, Mr. Davenport did not know that any particular intimacy existed between his son and Jerry. He occasionally spoke ofthe latter as a boy whose end, he feared, would not be good; and more than once he expressed a wish that Clinton would avoid him as much as possible. But this, Clinton found it rather difficult to do. Jerry sought his company, and he could not bear to say no. He knew Jerry was a bad boy, and that he did wrong to put himself under his influence; but he had not sufficient decision of character to terminate an acquaintance which had been so long continued. So the intimacy was kept up, to the great injury of Clinton.
At school, Jerry was not only a dull scholar, but a very troublesome one. Having never been taught to obey at home, he was rude and ungovernable in the school-room, and was more frequently punished for disobedience and inattention to his duties than any other boy in the school. After the novelty had worn off, Jerry began to grow tired of attending, and occasionally played truant, always contriving, however, to escape detection, by representing that he was detained at home by his mother. But after a while these absences grew so frequent, that the master began to suspect all might not be right; and one morning, on calling Jerry to account for his absence the preceding afternoon,he told him he should not excuse him unless he brought a note from his mother in the afternoon, certifying that he was kept at home.
Jerry was put to his wit’s end, by this new and unexpected demand. He had been off on a skating frolic the afternoon previous, while his mother supposed him to be at school, and he could not, therefore, ask her for a note of excuse. What could he do? If he did not bring an excuse in the afternoon, he was afraid the matter would be investigated, and lead to the discovery of his other frequent truancies; and in this case, he knew he would not escape a severe punishment. At first he thought of writing a note himself, and signing his mother’s name to it; but then he wrote such an awkward hand, and was such a poor speller, that he was afraid he could not deceive the teacher. After thinking the matter over, all the forenoon, he at last resolved to do one of two things,—either to persuade some one to write the excuse for him, or else never to enter the school-room again.
When school was dismissed, Jerry walked home with Clinton, as usual. After they had got beyond the hearing of the other scholars, Jerry said:—
“Clinty, I’ve got into a bad scrape, and I don’t know how to get out of it, unless you help me.”
“How can I?” inquired Clinton, who at once comprehended the situation of affairs.
“I’ll tell you of a plan I’ve thought of,” continued Jerry; “and if you’ll only say yes, I guess we can fix it easy enough. You see it wont do for me to ask the old woman for a note,”—the old womanwas the disrespectful title by which he usually spoke of his mother,—“and if I go to school without one, I’m afraid that old Eaton will find out that I’ve been playing truant all along, and he’ll give me a regular trouncing. Now ifyouwill write the note, nobody will ever know the difference, for you can write just like a woman. I would do it myself, if I could write as well as you can.”
“What!” said Clinton, with some signs of astonishment; “you don’t mean that you want me to write an excuse, and sign your mother’s name to it, do you?”
“Yes, that’s it, exactly; unless you can tell me of a better way to get out of my trouble.”
“I should like to help you out of it,” replied Clinton; “but I couldn’t do that.”
“Then,” added Jerry, in a decided tone, “I shall never see the inside of the old school-house again. I don’t know of anybody else that I can get to write the note, and I am not going there without it, to have the breath beat out of my body. I shall go to Boston, and take my chance,—I wont stay about here any longer.”
“Don’t talk so,” said Clinton. “Why not tell your mother that you didn’t go to school yesterday afternoon, and ask her to write an excuse? She would do it, I guess, if you made the confession, rather than have you punished.”
“She do it!” exclaimed Jerry, with some bitterness; “no, more likely she would write a note requesting old Eaton to lick me like blazes. But,” he continued, “why wont you write the excuse, Clinty?”
Clinton hesitated what reply to make to this question. If he had honestly confessed his feelings, he would have said, “It would be wrong, very wrong, to do such a thing;” for his conscience told him this, and this alone was the objection that weighed in his mind. And yet Clinton, though a well-trained and virtuous boy, had a foolish dread of confessing that he was afraid to do a wrong act. This was especially the casein his intercourse with Jerry, who, he knew, seldom had scruples of this kind, and whose ridicule he dreaded more than that of his other associates. So, after a brief pause, he said,
“Why, there would be a great risk in doing that. If Master Eaton should discover that I wrote the excuse, it would be a bad piece of business for both of us.”
“Buthowcan he find it out? He doesn’t know my mother’s hand-writing, and if you write it neat and fine, he wont suspect anything. Come, you write it when you get home, and bring it with you this afternoon, and I’ll meet you on the road. If you don’t I shan’t go to school, that’s all.”
By this time they had reached Mr. Preston’s house, and after a few more words of coaxing and entreaty, Jerry left his friend, with a pretty confident feeling that he would accede to his wishes. True, Clinton did not actually promise to write the note; but Jerry knew how difficult it was for him to say no, to any pressing suitor, and he felt almost sure that his wicked plan would be successful.
When Clinton was left to his own thoughts, therecame on a severe struggle in his mind. He could not bear the idea of lending himself to such a mean and wicked piece of deception, and yet he feared to meet Jerry with a refusal. He thought, also, what the consequences would be to himself, should the fraud be discovered. And then he thought of Jerry’s threat to leave school and run away from home, if he did not write the excuse. If he could prevent this great sin on the part of Jerry, might it not atone in a measure for the lesser sin of writing the note? This question arose in his mind, and many an older head has been led astray by a similar suggestion. No, Clinton, you must not do evil that good may come, or greater evil be prevented. You must not commit a sin, even in kindness to a friend. But he did not hear the voice, and when he reached his home, he was as undecided as ever what to do.
Clinton’s long walk to and from school, left him little more than time enough to eat his dinner. The noon meal not being quite ready, when he entered the house, he went to his father’s desk, and began to scribble something in the form of a note of excuse. After writing several, to see how they would look, he wascalled to dinner; and hastily selecting the best looking of the notes, he put it in his pocket, for future consideration, and destroyed the others. Even now, he was no nearer a decision than he was at first.
When Clinton arose from the dinner-table, it was time to start for school. He had not proceeded far before he overtook Jerry, who was loitering along, in expectation of his approach.
“I’ll take that note now,” said Jerry, stretching out his hand to Clinton, as the latter came up with him.
“I don’t know about that,” said Clinton; “I’ve been thinking it all over, and have about come to the conclusion that I can’t agree to your proposal. But haven’t you thought of some other way to get out of the scrape?”
“No,” replied Jerry, “there is no other way; but you have written the note, haven’t you?” he added, with some appearance of alarm.
“I have written something,” replied Clinton, “just to see how it would seem; but I rather guess I shan’t let you have it.”
“Let me look at it, then, wont you?”
“I guess so!” said Clinton, with a laugh.
“But I’m in earnest,” added Jerry, “just let me look at it, and I can tell in a minute whether it will answer. Perhaps it wont do, and then I shan’t want it, at any rate. Come, let me see it, and if you don’t want me to keep it, I wont.”
Clinton took the excuse from his pocket, and allowed Jerry to look at it. It read as follows;—
“Mr. Eaton will please excuse Jerry for absence from school, yesterday, as he was needed at home.Eliza Preston.Jan. 5th.”
“Mr. Eaton will please excuse Jerry for absence from school, yesterday, as he was needed at home.
Eliza Preston.
Jan. 5th.”
After reading the note, Jerry said it would do first rate; but instead of returning it to Clinton, as he promised, he put it into his own pocket. Clinton reminded him of his promise, and tried to get the paper back again, but in vain; and Jerry carried on the contest in such a good-natured, bantering spirit, that Clinton could not take offence. Thus the deed was done, so far as Clinton was concerned, without his coming to any decision about it. In such cases as this, no decision at all, is often equivalent to a wrong decision.
As Jerry entered the school-room, that afternoon, he handed the forged note to Master Eaton, who read it, and, without saying anything, tore it up. The deception was successful.