XVIKID FINDS HIMSELF FAMOUS
“Ah, Fairchild, Doctor Merton would like to see you in the office, please.”
Mr. Crane looked at Kid so peculiarly as he gave the message that had the latter entertained any doubt as to the reason for the summons such a doubt would have been instantly dispelled. Kid experienced a sinking of the heart as he muttered “Yes, sir,” and turned toward the Doctor’s sanctum. Well, it had to be faced! Probably the Doctor had had a reply to that letter and the worst had come. It was all well enough to tell Nan that he hadn’t said a word about his people losing their money, but the story wouldn’t serve with the Doctor, who drew a very fine line between truth and falsehood, and who maintained that an untruth could be implied as well as spoken. Kid’s feet dragged all the way to the office, and when he was outside the door, which happened to be closed, he stood therefor several moments listening to the loud and irregular thumping of his heart and wishing ever so hard for the deck of that merchantman! Then he summoned his courage and knocked. And then, in response to a cheerful “Come in!” he opened the door and entered.
The Doctor was seated at his broad-topped desk, a shiny mahogany desk it was, piled high with books and papers and all sorts of business-like objects; in short, a desk to dispel the last particle of assurance in the culprit. But Kid, with a supreme effort, summoned the cherub-look to his countenance and faced his fate.
The Doctor, who was reading the WhittierStandard, laid aside the paper and looked across the desk at Kid. There was nothing formidable in that look. Rather it was friendly and smiling, and Kid would have taken courage had he not known that the Doctor possessed a disconcerting habit of smiling before he smote. Kid’s round blue eyes gazed innocently at the Doctor.
“You—you sent for me, sir?” he asked in a wee small voice.
“Yes, James.” The Doctor’s smile vanished and he frowned portentously across the litter of booksand papers. “Sit down, please.” He nodded at a chair, and Kid, wondering, seated himself on the edge of it. Never before had he been invited to seat himself in the Doctor’s office. Plainly the interview was to be both protracted and painful! “Well, sir,” continued the Principal, “and what’s this you’ve been doing?”
Kid tried to retain his look of cherubic innocence, but it faded away and he lowered his head.
“I—I—nothing, sir, if you please.”
“Nothing! So you call it nothing, do you? I should say it was a good deal. Do you perform these brilliant feats very often, James?”
“No, sir,” murmured Kid miserably. “And I won’t ever do it again, sir.”
To his surprise the Doctor went off into a peal of laughter. Kid looked and stared. Of course the laughter was ironic, but it didn’t sound so. Was it possible that the Doctor was going to view the affair in its humorous aspect? Kid found courage to grin faintly.
“Won’t ever do it again, eh?” chuckled the Doctor finally. “Well, I guess that is so. You probably will never have the chance, James.”
Kid’s heart stopped beating for an instant. Expelled!He was to be sent home! What would his father say? And his mother? The tears began to creep up toward his eyes; he felt them coming. And he didn’t care!
“No, one doesn’t have an opportunity to do a thing like that more than once, James,” went on the Doctor, smiling that peculiar smile. “In fact, James, a good many of us never have the chance to be a hero even once. Or perhaps we see the chance and miss it, eh?”
Kid stared bewilderedly.
“I suppose your modesty kept you from speaking of the incident, James? Well, modesty is very becoming in a hero, my boy. And if I am to judge by what the paper tells me you were undoubtedly a hero. How does it feel to be a hero, James?”
Kid’s mouth was wide open but no sound came from it.
“Embarrassing, is it?” the Doctor laughed. “Well, I’ll spare your blushes. Maybe, though, you’d like to see what theStandardhas to say about you?” The Doctor picked the paper from the corner of the desk and held it out. Kid took it mechanically and his eyes followed the direction of the Doctor’s finger. But for a moment he sawnothing. Then, quite suddenly, the black type leaped at him and he was reading the headlines:
BOY HERO SAVES MANY LIVES
JAMES FAIRCHILD FINDS LANDSLIDEON TRACK AND SIGNALS EXPRESS
TWO HUNDRED PASSENGERS PRAISE PROMPT ACTIONOF TWELVE-YEAR-OLD YOUTH AND SHOW GRATITUDEBY LIBERAL PURSE OF MONEYFEARFUL ACCIDENT NARROWLY AVERTED
Kid read no further. He drew a long, long sigh of relief. Then he looked up at the Doctor.
“I don’t believe there were as many passengers as that,” he stammered.
“No? Well, the papers like to improve on a good story. Now suppose you tell me just what happened, my boy.”
And so Kid, after a moment’s hesitation, told his story. He didn’t say that he had started to run away to sea and the Doctor asked no embarrassing questions; but he told all the rest. And when he had finished the Doctor said:
“And this ‘liberal purse of money,’ James; may I inquire how much it amounted to?”
“Seventeen dollars and a half, sir.”
The Doctor chuckled. “Liberal, indeed,” hesaid. “I agree with you that the paper’s estimate of the number of passengers is undoubtedly exaggerated. Otherwise we must suppose that the passengers valued their lives at something like eight and three-quarters cents apiece, and that’s a low estimate, isn’t it?”
Kid grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“Still, seventeen dollars is seventeen dollars, and while you, of course, signaled the train without thinking of any accruing reward, you are justly entitled to it. I suppose you will—ah—send it home to your folks. And that reminds me, James. I fully intended writing to your father last week and informing him how you had so pluckily set to work to make money. I neglected to do it, though. I was very busy at the time, and afterwards it slipped my memory. Now, however, I shall have to write at once. He will be very proud, I’m sure, to learn what his boy has been doing. We’re proud, too, James. You’re an honor to the school, sir. Of course, I cannot commend your conduct in disobeying instructions and leaving your room yesterday. That was wrong, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Kid.
“Yes. Still, in view of your subsequent conduct, my boy, we will say no more about it. Onlyplease remember that heroes obey orders, James. Will you try to remember that?”
“Yes, sir. And—and please, Doctor, would you mind not saying anything to my father about—about my earning money, sir?”
“Why—ah—if you feel that way about it, certainly not. But I shall write him about the rest, James. You don’t object to that, I trust?”
“No, sir; thank you, sir.”
“Yes. Well, that’s all then.” The Doctor shook hands. “Better run along now. Even heroes have duties, eh?”
Kid withdrew, dazed. The Sword of Damocles which he had imagined suspended over his head had turned out to be a wreath of laurel! Instead of a culprit he was a hero! The Doctor had not written to his father as he had intended and now he had agreed not to. Neither Mrs. Merton nor Mr. Folsom had, it seemed, acquainted the Doctor with the real reason of his illness. And, another favor from Fortune, only one boy, Comstock, a day pupil, had presented his box of Tinkham’s Throat-Ease for redemption! Kid made his way into the hall with his head held higher than it had been held for days.
“Io triumphus!” murmured Kid.
And then, just when he was triumphing, his eyes encountered the long line of bookshelves across the hall and the recollection of “Hairbreadth Harry” spoiled it all. But there was no time to rescue that daring adventurer, for the classes had already assembled, and all Kid could do was to throw a longing look in the direction of the Encyclopedia Britannica and hurry to the schoolroom.
The fellows in Mr. Crane’s room were in their seats when Kid arrived at the swinging doors with their oval windows and glanced in. The instructor’s voice died away, there was a rustling as of a newspaper being folded and a hum and shuffling of feet from the boys. It was at that dramatic moment that Kid entered. As the green doors swung to behind him there commenced a clapping of hands that increased in volume as he strolled leisurely across the floor toward his seat. Kid was hoping that Mr. Crane would rebuke him for being tardy so that he might explain that he had been detained by Doctor Merton and so “have one on the instructor.” But Mr. Crane didn’t do anything of the sort. Instead he smiled at Kid and clapped his hands quite as loudly as anyone there. Now, hand clapping in class room was indulged in only when a visitor appeared or when, after a baseballor football game, some athletic hero entered. So, naturally, Kid, wondering, turned to see who had followed him in. Seeing no one, he looked the surprise he felt, and laughter began to creep into thepat, patof hands. And then Kid realized that Mr. Crane had seen the morning paper, had acquainted the class, and that the applause was for him, Kid!
All his sang-froid left him and he scuttled for his seat with blushing cheeks. As he sank into it with all eyes upon him, Small, who was his neighbor on the right, leaned over, grinning, and clapped his hands almost under Kid’s nose.
“Aw, cut it out!” muttered Kid with a scowl.
Then, as Small declined to “cut it out,” Kid reached over quickly and deftly with his foot and kicked Small’s shin. Fortunately, the ensuing expression of grief from Small was drowned in the diminishing applause.