c 
 
 
 TOM 
 
 *"*>v 
 
 s, 
 
 FRANCIS J 
 
 fci 
 
 n * 
 
 *
 
 . OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOfi
 
 "And are you really and truly a fool?" asked Tom. 
 -Page 56.
 
 TOM PLAYFA1R; 
 
 OR 
 
 MAKING A START. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. KINN, S.J. f 
 
 Author of " Percy Wynnf "Harry Dee," etc. 
 
 TWELFTH EDITION. 
 
 NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO: 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS, 
 
 Printers to the Holy Apostolic See.
 
 FATHER FINN'S BOOKS. 
 
 The Most Popular Catholic Story Books Published. 
 
 His FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. With original 
 drawings by Charles Svendsen. 8vo, cloth, 
 handsomely bound, i.oo 
 
 " The finest Catholic story-book published." 
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR ; or, Making a Start. With a Fron- 
 tispiece. 12010, cloth 85 
 
 PERCY WYNN ; or, Making a Boy of Him. With a 
 
 Frontispiece. lamo, cloth, 85 
 
 HARRY DEE ; or, Working It Out. With a Frontis- 
 piece, zzmo, cloth, 85 
 
 CLAUDS LIGHTFOOT ; or, How the Problem was 
 
 Solved. With a Frontispiece. iamo, cloth, . .85 
 
 ETHKLRED PRESTON ; or, The Adventures of a New- 
 comer. With a Frontispiece. iamo, cloth, . .85 
 
 THAT FOOTBALL GAME : and What Came of It. 
 
 With a Frontispiece, nmo, cloth, 85 
 
 THE BEST FOOT FORWARD. With a Frontispiece. 
 
 lamo, cloth, . .85 
 
 MOSTLY BOYS. Short Stories, ismo, cloth, ... .85 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1891, BY BBNZIGKR BROTHERS.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE vicissitudes of the "Tom Playfair" manu- 
 script would alone make a story. How it 
 was written over seven years ago, for the sake of a 
 college class, and with no ulterior thought of publi- 
 cation; how portions of it gradually found their 
 way into print; how the writer hesitated for years 
 whether to consign the remaining parts to the book 
 publisher or to the waste-basket; how the cordial 
 reception of " Percy Wynn," and the kind words con- 
 cerning " Tom Playfair" from critics and from read- 
 ers inspirited him to take the venerable manuscript 
 done at all manner of odd times, in lead pencil 
 and ink, upon all sorts and conditions of paper 
 from his trunk, and subsequently devote no small 
 part of his vacation days (July, August, 1891) to its 
 revisal; how the valued advice and kind words of 
 literary friends served him in the revision are not 
 all these things indelibly impressed upon the author's 
 memory ? 
 
 And now he ventures to offer this story to the 
 boys and girls of the land, in the hope that it may 
 afford them healthful pleasure. 
 
 Advancing the figure learnedly styled hysteron- 
 protcron from sentences to volumes, he has published 
 
 3 
 
 2129823
 
 " Percy Wynn " first, although Percy's adventures 
 are subsequent to Tom's. The reason for this pro- 
 cedure may be gathered from what has been said of 
 the "Tom Playfair" manuscript. 
 
 St. Maure's is a pseudonym for a certain college 
 in the West. Besides inventing incidents, the 
 author, to suit his purpose, has on occasion taken 
 liberties with the local surroundings; but in the 
 main he has adhered to the prototype. 
 
 It is almost needless to say that the real college 
 never suffered from the effects of a thunderbolt; in 
 fact, the "cupola," upon which turns a catastrophe 
 recorded in these pages, was erected, not by an archi- 
 tect, but by a few strokes of the pen. 
 
 Near this Western college there is a village a 
 thriving, happy community. This village the au- 
 thor has eliminated from these stories. The village 
 of St. Maure's, which takes its place, is a fiction. 
 
 In drawing, with certain necessary reserves, upon 
 his three years' experience at this Western college, 
 the author has, perhaps, made too little of one strik- 
 ing feature the manly piety of the students. In all 
 his experiences there he could count upon his fingers 
 those who, while in attendance, had evidently 
 changed for the worse; and they were marked 
 exceptions. 
 
 It is hard upon seven years since the writer last 
 saw " St. Maure's." Then it was just on this side of 
 its pioneer days. Now it is a college with a history 
 of which it may well be proud. The "old church 
 building," the little boys' dormitory and wash- 
 room, the long, low frame structure used as an in- 
 firmary, are gone; new and nobler piles have arisen
 
 PREFACE. 5 
 
 in their place so that the college of to-day, as Peg- 
 gotty remarked, I believe, of her nephew, Ham, has 
 " growed out of knowledge " ; and yet the sweet 
 spirit of faith and prayer has abided unchanged 
 amid all changes. 
 
 The author has not seen these changes he is 
 blessed in believing. Nor can he doubt, aside from 
 all testimony, that the same spirit pervades them 
 all. The Dial, a college paper conducted by the 
 students, reaches him every month; and he can read 
 in the lines and between the lines that the college 
 of to-day and the college of sever years ago are one 
 in that closest and most sacred ot moral unions a 
 true, devout, Catholic spirit. 
 
 FRANCIS J. FINN, S. J. 
 October iq, i8gi.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In which the hero of the story is represented in doubtful 
 
 light, f t. "' II 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In which Tom by a series of misadventures brings down the 
 wrath of his father in such wise that the author, for fear 
 of forfeiting Tom's chances of becoming a hero in the 
 reader's eyes, discreetly veils what actually happened 
 when justice was administered 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 In which Tom leaves for St. Maure's, and finds on the road 
 
 thither that fun sometimes comes expensive, . . 28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Tom arrives it St. Maure's and makes the acquaintance of 
 John Green under circumstances not entirely grateful to 
 that interesting character, 41 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 In which Tom is persuaded to go to sleep, . . . 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 In which Green and Tom run a race which proves disastrous 
 
 to both, , 65
 
 CONTENTS. 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In which Tom usurps minor orders with startling results, 72 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 In which Tom gets into many difficulties, and holds an 
 
 astonishing interview with Mr. Middleton, . . 80 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 In which Tom concludes that vinegar never catches flies, 94 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 In which Tom gives Green a bit of advice, which, aided 
 
 by a storm, is not without its effect, ... 98 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The night of the first Friday in November, . . ^ no 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Tom's midnight adventure, 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 In which Tom takes a trip, . . . . . . 125 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 In which Tom goes to the theatre, ..../ 130 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 In which Tom is lost, . . . . . . 134 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 In which Tom enters upon a career of extravagar.ee, . 146 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 In which the prodigal returns, 
 
 154
 
 CONTENTS. 9 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FACE 
 
 In which Tom astonishes and horrifies his aunt, . . 164 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 In which Tom and Keenan hold a council of war, . 178 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Storming of the snow-fort Mr. Beakey talks at cross 
 
 purposes with the senior students, . . . . 184 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 In which Tom meets with a bitter trial, . . . 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 In which Tom wins a new friend and hea - a strange 
 
 story 201 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 In which the " Knickerbockers" play the "Red Clippers," 212 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Trouble ahead, 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 A joyous going forth, and a sad journey home, . . 224 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Sickness 232 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 Death, , , 237
 
 10 CONTENTS. 
 
 J> s 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 PASS 
 
 An escape from jail, and the beginning of a snow-storm, 243 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 End of the snow-storm, ...... 250 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 Conclusion, . . . 253
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WHICH THE HERO OF THE STORY IS REPRESENTED 
 IN A DOUBTFUL LIGHT. 
 
 1 No answer. 
 
 " Tommy do you hear me ? Get up this moment, 
 sir. Do you think this house is a hotel ? Every 
 one's at breakfast except yourself." 
 
 Miss Meadow, Tom Playfair's maternal aunt, stood 
 without the door of Master Playfair's sleeping 
 apartment. She paused for a moment, partly to gain 
 her breath (having come up three pairs of stairs to 
 arouse Tom) and partly to await some reply from 
 our sleeping hero. 
 
 The silence, however, was simply emphasized by 
 the ticking of the great clock in the hall. 
 
 " Tommy !" she resumed at length, in a higher key, 
 " do you hear me ?" 
 
 Her strained ears caught the dull sound as of some 
 one turning lazily in his bed. " Now you're awake, 
 sir, jump right up, and dress for your breakfast." 
 
 "Sho! scat!" came a yawning voice from the 
 room,
 
 I* TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 "Dear me!" cried poor Miss Meadow, "the boy 
 doesn't mind me in the least." 
 
 "What's the trouble, Jane?" queried Mr. Playfair, 
 who just then issued from his room. 
 
 " I can't get that Tommy out of bed. He's grow- 
 ing worse every day, George. Last week he was late 
 for school five times." 
 
 "I'll fix that, Jane," said Mr. Playfair. And he 
 took one step toward Tom's sleeping-room, when 
 the door of that apartment opened a few inches, dis- 
 covering a young face peering anxiously from beneath 
 a mass of tangled hair. 
 
 "Pa," said the apparition, "I'm dressing just as 
 fast as I know how. I heard you, auntie, and I'm 
 coming right away." 
 
 Then the door closed. Tom, it must be explained, 
 had been composing himself for another nap, when 
 the whispered dialogue between his aunt and his 
 father had brought him out of bed with most un- 
 wonted celerity. The wily lad deemed it best not 
 to wait for an order from his father. Hence the 
 apparition. 
 
 " If you are not at the breakfast table in two min- 
 utes, sir, you shall hear from me," and with these 
 sternly delivered words Mr. Playfair conducted Miss 
 Meadow to breakfast. 
 
 Little more than a minute later, a stout, healthy, 
 dark-complexioned lad of ten emerged from his room 
 ready and eager for the labor and heat of the day. 
 His rosy face and jet-black hair gave token of a 
 hasty toilet. His shoes were partially buttoned, his 
 sturdy legs were encased in a pair of bright red stock- 
 ings and rather tight knickerbockers, and his chubby 
 cheeks wore an air of serenity, which coupled with
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 13 
 
 his naturally handsome features made him a pleas- 
 ing sight to ail lovers of the genuine American 
 boy. 
 
 Hastily descending the stairs (which he did by 
 taking from three to four steps at a bound), Tom 
 very quickly presented himself in the dining room, 
 and ignoring the presence of the cat, in the teasing 
 of which he spent a considerable portion of his valu- 
 able time, he seated himself at table, and fell to with 
 great good will. But trouble was brewing. 
 
 Besides Mr. Playfair and Miss Meadow, there was 
 at table a young man, brother to Tom's aunt, and 
 the bane of our hero's life. Mr. Charles Meadow 
 was not a bad young man, but he had, despite this 
 negative good quality, a large and constantly in- 
 creasing stock of small faults, one of which was an 
 inordinate delight in teasing and browbeating Tom. 
 It is fair to say, however, that in the indulgence of 
 this fault Mr. Meadow did not always come off with 
 flying colors. Tom contrived to gain a victory now 
 and then, and thus added a zest to the domestic 
 war, which would otherwise have been too one-sided 
 to be interesting. Strangely enough, Mr. Playfair 
 held himself, in general, strictly neutral ; and it was 
 only when the campaign gave signs of unusual bit- 
 terness that he felt himself called upon to interfere. 
 
 On the present occasion young Mr. Meadow had 
 been awaiting with ill-concealed anxiety Tom's 
 appearance. 
 
 " Oh, so here you are at last, are you ?" he began 
 as Tom seated himself at the table. 
 
 In the tranquillity of a healthy appetite applied 
 to its proper purpose, Tom ignored the enemy's 
 hostile flag.
 
 i4 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 " Look here, young man," continued Mr. Meadow, 
 "were you at my room again last night?" 
 
 " How could a fellow get in your old room when 
 you had it locked?" queried Tom with virtuous 
 indignation. 
 
 "Never mind the 'how,' but did you go into my 
 room last night?" 
 
 "Say, Aunt Jane, please put a little more sugar in 
 this coffee. You never do give me enough." 
 
 "What I want to know," pursued the unrelenting 
 uncle," is, whether you went into my room last night. " 
 
 " If you stayed at home, and went to bed early, 
 instead of running round the town nights," answered 
 Tom, still desirous of shifting the battle-ground, 
 "you wouldn't be asking such questions." 
 
 At this moment Mary the cook entered the dining- 
 room with a plate of pancakes. 
 
 If Tom had a preference, it was for this dish. 
 
 "Whoop!" he cried, and his eyes glistened. 
 
 A smile of triumph passed over Mr. Meadow's coun- 
 tenance; just as Tom was about to help himself lib- 
 erally to the food of his preference, his persecutor 
 took possession of the plate, and having helped Mr. 
 Playfair and Miss Meadow to several cakes, he placed 
 the rest upon his own plate. 
 
 Tom waxed angry. 
 
 "Oh! you think you're funny, don't you? May be 
 you don't use hair-dye for that straw-colored mus- 
 tache of yours I spelled it on a big bottle." 
 
 Mr. Playfair smiled, Miss Meadow tittered, Mr. 
 Meadow blushed deeply. Recovering himself, he 
 returned to the charge. 
 
 "Aha!" he cried, directing his forefinger at Tom. 
 " So you have been in my room ?"
 
 TOM PLA YFA1R. 15 
 
 It was Tom's turn to blush; he was fairly caught. 
 
 " How did you get in, sir ?" continued Mr. Meadow, 
 pursuing his advantage. 
 
 "Button-hook," answered Tom, with the falling 
 inflection. 
 
 "Exactly that's just what I thought, and that's 
 just the way you ruined the lock of the pantry last 
 week." 
 
 Mr. Playfair's face took on an air of concern; he 
 glanced severely at the culprit. 
 
 "Well," drawled Tom, "I guess it isn't fair to 
 lock up ripe apples. They don't give a fellow any 
 show in this house." 
 
 " Tommy!" an electric shock seemed to convulse 
 our little pantry-burglar at the low, stern tones of 
 his father's voice, " Tommy, have you been forc- 
 ing locks with a button-hook again?" 
 
 The roses in Tom's cheeks grew out of all bounds, 
 till the " roots of his hair were stirred " ; he dropped 
 his knife and fork, and with a despairing expression 
 hung his head. 
 
 " This is getting too bad," Mr. Playfair continued. 
 "I don't like to say it, but such conduct is more fit 
 for a young thief than for a little boy whom his 
 father wishes to make a gentleman." At the woid 
 " thief" there was a subdued boo-hoo, followed by the 
 sound of heavy breathing. 
 
 "You may well cry, sir," pursued the parent," for 
 you have every reason to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 "I j-j-just d-d-did it for f-fun," he sobbed. 
 
 "Oh, you're exceedingly funny!" broke in Mr. 
 Meadow with infinite sarcasm. 
 
 This last remark filled his cup of sorrow to over- 
 flowing; stifling an incipient sob and muttering that
 
 1 6 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 he "didn't want no breakfast," he departed into the 
 welcome solitude of the hall. The word "thief" 
 still rang in his ears, and sigh upon sigh bursting at 
 short intervals from his passion-racked bosom testi- 
 fied his appreciation of the term. 
 
 Presently Mr. Meadow, on his way down town, 
 where he held the honorable position of assistant 
 book-keeper in a St. Louis hardware store, issued 
 from the dining-room. At the sight of him, Tom's 
 grief hardened into the sterner form of anger. 
 
 "You'll pay for this, Mr. Give-away," he mut- 
 tered, shaking a diminutive fist at Mr. Meadow. 
 " I'm going to see Miss Larkin to-day I will, \will! 
 and I'll just tell her all the mean things you say 
 to me, how your mustache is dyed see if I don't, 
 I'll spoil your chances there." 
 
 Mr. Meadow, who had a soft spot in his heart 
 (devoted almost exclusively to said Miss Larkin), 
 was taken back not a little at this threat. 
 
 "You young scamp," he roared with more earnest- 
 ness than dignity, " if you go near that young lady 
 with any of your wretched stories, I'll give you a 
 cowhiding. " 
 
 "Ugh! you give-away!" cried Tom with ineffable 
 disgust. 
 
 "So, sir; that's the language you use to your 
 uncle," said Mr. Playfair, who as he opened the din- 
 ing-room door had caught these words. " Go up to 
 your room, sir, and don't leave it till nine o'clock. 
 Jane," he continued, looking into the dining-room, 
 "please tell Tommy when it is nine." 
 
 Mr. Playfair left the house with a stern cast of 
 countenance. Tom was scarcely five when his mother 
 died. The boy was good but the want of a mother's
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 17 
 
 care and refining influence was very evident. Then 
 too, Mr. Playfair reflected, the child stood in great 
 danger of having his disposition ruined. Petted by 
 Miss Meadow, he was growing selfish; teased by 
 Mr. Meadow, he was becoming bold. 
 
 "Yes," he muttered, "I shall have to take some 
 decisive step, or the boy will be spoiled." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Iff WHICH TOM BY A SERIES OF MISADVENTURES BRINGS 
 DOWN THE WRA TH OF HIS FA THER IN SUCH WISE THA T 
 THE A UTHOR, FOR FEAR OF FORFEITING TOM'S CHANCES 
 OF BECOMING A HERO IN THE READER'S EYES, DIS- 
 CREETLY VEILS WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED WHEN 
 JUSTICE WAS ADMINISTERED. 
 
 THE mournful wail that swept at dismal intervals 
 through Mr. Playfair's house touched the sym- 
 pathetic chord of compassion in the heartstrings of 
 gentle Aunt Jane. Stealing softly up to Tom's room, 
 she entered on tiptoe. Master Tom, his hair di- 
 shevelled, and the channels of grief plainly traced 
 upon his cheeks, was lying prone upon his bed. The 
 sight of her compassionate face opened a new flood of 
 tears. 
 
 "Don't cry, Tommy," she said softly. 
 
 "I wish I was dead," cried that young gentleman. 
 
 " Now, now, Tommy," exclaimed the horrified and 
 too credulous aunt, "don't talk that way: it is sin- 
 ful, and I'm sure you don't mean it." 
 
 "I'll bet I do," he howled. "And I wish I was 
 b-b-buried too under the ground. And I'll tell you 
 what, Aunt Jane, I'll run away." 
 
 2 - ' - -
 
 i8 TOM PLA VPAIR. 
 
 " Oh, Tommy, how can you say such wicked things ? 
 Come, now, can't I bring you up some breakfast?" 
 
 "Don't want any breakfast. I'll runaway, and 
 sell newspapers, and have a jolly time." 
 
 " Dear, dear, where did you get all these notions?" 
 queried Miss Meadow, whose confiding spirit received 
 these exaggerated expressions of grief as so much 
 gospel truth. " Tommy, what do you say to some 
 buttered toast, and a bit of cake?" 
 
 In spite of himself, Tom could not help showing, 
 at this stage, some interest in sublunary affairs. 
 
 " No," he said, sitting up in bed, "but I'd like to 
 have some pancakes." 
 
 " They're all gone, Tommy, and it's so much 
 trouble to make them." 
 
 "Well, then, I don't want any breakfast," he said, 
 throwing himself back on the bed, and relapsing into 
 sobs. 
 
 This last exhibition of tactics won the victory. 
 Miss Meadow descended to the kitchen, and put her- 
 self to the elaborate work of making pancakes for the 
 world-worn youth of ten. 
 
 Upon her departure, Tom smiled in a manner not 
 entirely devoid of guile; and the smile running 
 counter to his tears formed a sort of facial rainbow. 
 
 Presently Aunt Jane appeared with the pancakes, 
 and other delicacies, and very shortly, indeed, Tom 
 fell to in a manner most encouraging to behold. 
 
 " I say, Aunt Jane, " he said, speaking with as much 
 distinctness as the crowded state of his mouth would 
 allow, " you're a real genuine, old fairy-grandmother, 
 you are." 
 
 He intended this for a magnificent compliment, but 
 Aunt Jane did not look particularly gratified. To a
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 1<) 
 
 miss of thirty the epithets " old " and " grandmother " 
 were rather suggestive. 
 
 Perceiving that he had made some mistake, Tom 
 added : 
 
 "I'll tell you what, Auntie, I won't bother your 
 pantry, or scare the cook for well, for a week." 
 He spoke as if he felt how handsome his offer was. 
 
 "That sounds better," said Miss Meadow. "So 
 you'll be a good boy now, wont you?" 
 
 " Honor bright, Aunt Jane." And Miss Meadow, 
 with this consolatory assurance gladdening her heart, 
 departed to attend to her domestic affairs, having 
 first given him his liberty. 
 
 Availing himself of this, he was presently engaged 
 in the back yard in constructing a chicken-coop. 
 
 "Halloa!" said a voice directly behind him. 
 
 " Halloa yourself ; is that you, Jeff?" he made 
 answer, as a boy of about his own age, with a dollish 
 face, and clad in soft garments, met his view. 
 
 " Got any chickens yet ?" asked Jeff, ignoring 
 Tom's question as being superfluous. 
 
 "Not yet, but I guess I'll trade off my base-ball 
 with Tom White for one." And master Tom picked 
 up a pine board which he proceeded to split into 
 smaller sections. In the midst of this interesting 
 operation, a chip flew up, striking Jeff rather sharply 
 upon the lobe of his left ear. 
 
 " Confound you !" shouted Jeff, rubbing the injured 
 member with pathetic earnestness. 
 
 "You needn't curse," said Tom resentfully. 
 
 " That aint cursin'," retorted Jeff in a sharper key. 
 
 "Well, it's vulgar all the same," insisted Tom, 
 unwilling to give in entirely. 
 
 "It isn't."
 
 20 TOM PL A YFA1R. 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "I tell you it isn't." 
 
 "I tell you it is." 
 
 " I guess my pa uses it." 
 
 " My pa doesn't, and he ought to know." 
 
 Their voices " took a higher range. " 
 
 " See here, Jeff Thompson, do you mean to say that 
 your pa knows more than mine?" 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 Tom seemed to think that the conversation had 
 reached a point where argument should be advanced 
 by other means than mere verbal expression, for he 
 suddenly struck out straight from the shoulder, and 
 before his astonished opponent could hold up his 
 hands to ward off the blow a sturdy little fist came 
 into forceful contact with Jeff's nose. 
 
 As stars gladiatorial flashed before Jeff's eyes, his 
 yell of anguish broke upon the silence. 
 
 "I'm killed," he shrieked, as the blood gushed 
 from his injured member. 
 
 The fast-flowing stream frightened Tom exceed- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Oh, Jeff ! " he cried, clasping his hands, " I didn't 
 mean to hurt you so much cross my heart, I didn't," 
 and he rubbed his thumb so as to form an invisible 
 cross upon the right side of his sailor jacket, suppos- 
 ing, in his ignorance, that he had precisely located 
 ' his heart. 
 
 "Go 'way, don't talk to me, "said Jeff, suspending 
 a howl to deliver this important communication. 
 "I'll never speak to you again." 
 
 "Oh, Jeff, don't stand bleeding! " implored Tom. 
 "Come 'long to the pump and I'll help you wash 
 yourself."
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 21 
 
 " I wont go to the pump," roared Jeff. I'll just 
 stand here and bleed to death, and you'll be hung 
 for a murderer." 
 
 This threat, coupled with the sight of the flowing 
 blood, filled Tom's soul with horror. 
 
 " Good gracious! Jeff, I believe you will die, if you 
 keep on bleeding." 
 
 " Do you think so?" inquired Jeff, paling a little, 
 for he was not so very anxious for death. 
 
 "Yes, Jeff, I I'm afraid you're gone, and you'll be 
 cold and stiff, and a big policeman will come and 
 grab me, and a judge will hang me in a black cap 
 Oh, gracious!" And at this dismal prospect Tom 
 blubbered. 
 
 "I guess I '11 go to the pump, "said Jeff. And two 
 mournful little lads sought together the cooling 
 waters. Despite the wholesome application of the 
 water, the bleeding still continued. Their looks of 
 dismay deepened. Suddenly Tom's face lighted up. 
 
 "Oh, Jeff! I've got it! I heard Aunt Jane read in 
 an almanax that if you hold your arm up when your 
 nose is blooded it will stop." 
 
 Forthwith, Jeff's right arm reached madly toward 
 the sky. To the intense gratification of both parties 
 the bleeding soon began to subside. 
 
 " I say, Jeff, hold up both arms, that ought to make 
 it stop twice as fast." 
 
 With equal docility, Jeff struck the new attitude. 
 The bleeding was now almost imperceptible. 
 
 "And, Jeff, what's the matter with your leg?" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Suppose you hold that up too." 
 
 There was a returning twinkle in Tom's eye, which 
 Jeff failed to notice.
 
 22 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 "How' 11 I do it?" 
 
 " Lean up against the pump, and I'll fix the rest." 
 
 Jeff obeyed, and Tom catching hold of the patient's 
 right leg- lifted it up, up, up, till Jeff shrieked with 
 pain. 
 
 " Drop it, you goose!" 
 
 "You needn't get excited. I didn't mean to hurt 
 you," said Tom, apologetically, and he lowered Jeff's 
 leg a few inches. 
 
 It was a funny sight Jeff leaning against the pump 
 with his two arms raised perpendicularly, and his leg 
 supported at a right angle to the rest of his body by 
 his sympathetic friend. The bleeding soon ceased, 
 and Tom showed his sense of the humor of the situa- 
 tion by giving the leg such a twist that Jeff shrieked 
 louder than ever. 
 
 "You're a mean fellow, and I wont speak to you 
 again," vociferated Jeff when he had recovered 
 speech. 
 
 " You oughtn't to sass a boy in his own yard," said 
 Tom argumentatively. 
 
 "Who's going to stay in your old yard?" and Jeff 
 in high dudgeon made his way into the alley. 
 
 Tom now devoted himself for the next five minutes 
 to the construction of the chicken-coop. Presently 
 wearying of this lonely occupation he clambered over 
 the fence into the alley in search of some compan- 
 ion. To his great disappointment not a single boy 
 was to be seen except Jeff Thompson, who was por- 
 ing interestedly over a kite. The loneliness which 
 had come upon Tom caused his heart to soften. 
 
 " I say, Jeff, got a string for that kite ?" 
 
 " You needn't mind about this kite, " answered Jeff, 
 without raising his eyes.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 2 3 
 
 " Because, if you haven't," went on Tom in gentle 
 tones, "I'll lend you mine." 
 
 Jeff's countenance softened somewhat. Tom, see- 
 ing his advantage, followed it up. 
 
 "Oh, Jeff, you ought to see my new flint!" 
 
 " Where'd you get it?" This with awakened inter- 
 est. 
 
 " Bunkered it off Sadie Roberts; come on up, and 
 I'll show it to you." 
 
 This ended all hostilities; and within five minutes 
 Jeff and Tom had entered into a solemn contract to 
 be " partners " thenceforward and forever. 
 
 An hour or so after this binding contract, Aunt 
 Jane called up at Tom's room to ascertain what was 
 keeping that young gentleman so quiet. His tran- 
 quillity was easily explained; neither Tom nor Jeff 
 was there. Miss Meadow made a careful examina- 
 tion of the house, paying special attention to Mr. 
 Meadow's room, and the pantry; but finding not even 
 a trace of her graceless charge in these places, she 
 hurried into the yard. Her eyes swept anxiously 
 over the limited view. The yard was deserted. 
 
 "Tom!" she cried. 
 
 "Yes'm." 
 
 "Good gracious! where in the world are you?" 
 
 "Up here." 
 
 Miss Meadow raised her eyes, then gave a shriek 
 of horror; on the slanting roof of the house Tom 
 was busily attending to a dove-cot with one hand, 
 while the other was held by Jeff, who was standing 
 on the top rung of a ladder, his 1 ittle nose, " tip-tilted 
 like the petal of a flower," just appearing over the 
 opening in the skylight. 
 
 " Tommy, get down out of that this very instant.
 
 24 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 Good gracious ! do you want to slip off and kill your- 
 self?" 
 
 " I want to put some feed in for my doves. I 
 don't care about falling and killing myself," came 
 the tranquil answer. 
 
 " Tommy, I want you to get down from that dan- 
 gerous position instantly." 
 
 "Oh, Auntie, just one minute; I'm all right." 
 
 Miss Meadow was ready to cry with anxiety. 
 "Tommy, if you don't obey me this very " 
 
 Miss Meadow paused on seeing the look of anima- 
 tion that suddenly appeared upon Tom's features. 
 
 "Did you hear it, Jeff?" 
 
 " What ?" 
 
 "It's the fire bell, hurrah!" and with a quick 
 spring through the trap - door Master Tom dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " Now, he thinks he's going off to the fire," solilo- 
 quized Miss Meadow ; " but out of this house he shall 
 not stir one step." And she hastened in, constrain- 
 ing her mind to the proper degree of firmness. But 
 alas! as she passed through the kitchen and dining- 
 room into the hall, four sturdy little legs twinkled 
 down the front door steps; and two treble voices 
 raised to their highest yelling key completely 
 drowned her command to come back. 
 
 Miss Meadow sank into a chair and wiped her 
 eyes. It was mortifying to confess even to herself, 
 but she had to admit that Tom was fast slipping be- 
 yond her control. The mild, timid little lady was 
 no match for the wild, impetuous, thoughtless boy. 
 If Tom could have understood the pain and anxiety 
 his conduct had wrought in her gentle bosom, he 
 would have thought twice before taking so abrupt a
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 2g 
 
 departure. But her tears (so far as he was concerned) 
 were as dew upon the naked rock ; and, shouting with 
 excitement, he hurried away through the streets to 
 the scene of the fire. 
 
 The dinner hour came, but no Tom; and the poor 
 lady with aching eyes peered long through the parlor 
 window hoping to catch some glimpse of the return- 
 ing adventurer. As the quarters passed on, Miss 
 Meadow became more grieved. 
 
 " I must give up," she said to herself. " The boy 
 loves me, I am sure ; but I cannot take the place of 
 his poor dead mother. He does just what he likes. 
 Unless something decided be done, he will grow 
 up to be self-willed and undisciplined. Thank God! 
 to-morrow's a class day. But even at school he is 
 not under the proper charge. Miss Harvey teaches 
 well; but in Tommy's hands she is powerless." 
 
 At length, wearied with waiting, and vexed with 
 the disagreeable train of thought Tom's recent esca- 
 pades had occasioned, she endeavored, with poor 
 success, however, to eat a little dinner. As she was 
 about to leave the table, a light but slow tread was 
 heard without. The tread drew nearer; the door 
 opened, and Tom, his stockings bespattered with 
 mud, his shirt-collar crushed out of all shapeliness, 
 his hat gone, and an expression of shame upon his 
 dirt-smeared features, entered the room. 
 
 "Well, sir," began his aunt, who, in spite of the 
 joy she felt at his reappearance, was determined to 
 be severe, "how are you going to account for your- 
 self?" Tom hung his head, fell into a close consid- 
 eration of his feet; and, having no hat to twirl, be- 
 gan pulling his fingers. 
 
 "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
 
 26 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 Tom appeared to consider this a difficult question. 
 
 " Do you hear? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" 
 
 "Yes'm," this in a subdued tone, and after due 
 reflection. 
 
 " Now, sir, you needn't think to escape a flogging. 
 Let's hear your story, and then I'll attend to you in 
 your room, where you may remain fasting till supper. " 
 
 Healthy boys as a rule are not pleased with the 
 prospect of losing their dinner; nor is the number 
 great of those boys who entertain no prejudices 
 against flogging. Tom saw that matters had come 
 to a crisis; and that nothing but a masterly stroke 
 would win the day. Quick as thought the young 
 general had planned out his campaign. Advancing 
 to his aunt's side in all humility, he suddenly caught 
 her hand, and said: 
 
 " Auntie Jane, I'm sorry, " and before Miss Meadow 
 could become aware of his intention, he threw his 
 arms round her neck and kissed her. 
 
 Under the warmth of this greeting, her icy stern- 
 ness melted away, and flowed off in a gentle stream 
 of kindness. 
 
 "Poor boy! you must be tired and hungry, too. 
 Indeed you don't deserve any dinner. But sit down; 
 I haven't the heart to see you go to your room in 
 hunger." 
 
 Tom was not slow to avail himself of this permis- 
 sion; and while Miss Meadow, her bosom agitated 
 by a conflict between duty and affection, helped him 
 to the various dishes, Tom plied knife and fork with 
 no small earnestness. 
 
 For the rest of the afternoon he distinguished him- 
 self by his conduct. In fact, he was trembling on 
 account of the wrath to come. His unusual excur-
 
 TO M PLA YFA IR. 2 7 
 
 sion would be reported to his father, and then it 
 would require more than Tom's address to avoid 
 serious consequences. 
 
 Nor were his forebodings without foundation. 
 When Mr. Playfair heard from Miss Meadow's lips 
 the account of his son's doings, he compressed his 
 lips tightly, knit his brow, and then, after some seri- 
 ous reflection, called for the culprit. 
 
 " Sir," said the father sternly, " you have gone the 
 limit of your tether." 
 
 Tom did not know what " going the limit of one's 
 tether" meant; but entertaining the idea that it was 
 something very horrid indeed, he set up a dismal 
 wail. 
 
 " Sir, you need to learn obedience and respect to 
 your elders. Next September, just five months from 
 now, you start for St. Maure's boarding-school, and 
 remember this if you give any trouble there, I'll not 
 allow you to make your First Communion for another 
 year. Now, sir" 
 
 But as Tom Playfair is to be the hereof this vera- 
 cious story I cannot bring myself to put on record 
 what his father said further; still less have I the 
 heart to chronicle what Mr. Playfair did. Tom was 
 very noisy on the occasion. Up to this hour he had 
 known the force of his father's hand only from the 
 friendly clasp. But over that occasion, which Tom 
 never forgot, and over the ensuing five months, you 
 and I, Jear reader, drop a veil which shall not be 
 withdrawn.
 
 88 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM LEA VES FOR ST. MA URES, AND FINDS ON 
 THE ROAD THITHER THAT FUN SOMETIMES COMES 
 EXPENSIVE. 
 
 interval of five months taught Tom several 
 years, as it were. The prospect of preparing 
 for his First Communion, and of going to a school 
 where he would be thrown upon his own resources, 
 put a touch of earnestness, hitherto lacking, into 
 his life, in such wise that there came a change 
 so perceptible as even to attract Mr. Meadow's 
 notice. 
 
 During the vacation, strange to say, Tom gave 
 so little trouble that Aunt Jane entertained serious 
 fears for his health. 
 
 About thirty minutes past seven, on a Monday 
 evening in September, Master Tom, enveloped in a 
 linen duster which reached nearly to his heels, look- 
 ing rather solemn and accompanied by his uncle, 
 aunt, and father, stood silent in the Union Depot of 
 St. Louis. 
 
 Bells were ringing, engines were puffing, hissing, 
 and shrieking, tracks were rumbling and quivering; 
 cars were moving in and out; newsboys, hackmen, 
 and depot officials were shouting, porters were hurry- 
 ing in every direction throwing trunks and other 
 baggage, now here, now there, in a manner most con- 
 fusing to the inexperienced eye ; women and children 
 were standing near the ticket offices, or sitting rest-* 
 lessly in the waiting-rooms, some indulging in a hasty
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. *$ 
 
 lunch, many looking hopelessly lost: while the mul- 
 titudinous electric lights flared and sputtered over 
 the whole scene. 
 
 As train after train moved away for its long jour- 
 ney, and Tom realized that he too would soon be on 
 his way to another part of the world, his heart grew 
 heavy. 
 
 "I say, pa," he suggested, "I guess I don't want 
 to go." 
 
 Pa smiled. 
 
 "Mr. Don't- Want is not a member of our family," 
 volunteered Mr. Meadow very smartly. 
 
 Tom shot an indignant glance at the speaker of 
 these cruel words. 
 
 " Keep up your courage, Tommy," whispered Aunt 
 Jane, quietly pressing a silver dollar into his hands. 
 " It's for your own good, dear, and in ten short 
 months you'll come back a little man." 
 
 The prospect of ten short months, and the result- 
 ant of a little man afforded him small consolation, 
 but the silver dollar had a reassuring effect. Absent- 
 ing himself from the family group, he immediately 
 expended one quarter of his aunt's gift on a paper 
 of caramels and a cream-cake; and he was thinking 
 very seriously of laying out twenty-five cents more in 
 the purchase of a toy pistol, when a crowd of boys 
 of all ages and sizes came pouring into the depot., 
 
 Tom gazed at them in amazement. 
 
 " I say," he said, addressing one of the boys about 
 his own age, "what's broken loose?" 
 
 Instead of answering this question, the boy stopped 
 and considered Tom attentively. " Don't you belong 
 to our crowd ?" he at length said. 
 
 " What crowd ?" asked Tom.
 
 3<5 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 "The St. Maure's fellows." 
 
 "What!" cried Tom in amazement, "are all you 
 fellows going there too ?" 
 
 " That's what they say." 
 
 " Why, then, things aren't so bad as I thought they 
 would be. I say, let's be partners. My name is 
 Tommy Playfair: What's yours?" 
 
 " Harry Quip." 
 
 "Here, take some candy," said Tom, opening his 
 package. 
 
 Harry embraced both offers. Henceforth he and 
 Tom were "partners." 
 
 While the two were thus exchanging small-boy 
 courtesies, a clean-shaven gentleman, somewhat be- 
 yond middle age and attired in a clerical suit, walked 
 up to them. 
 
 Harry raised his hat, and endeavored to compose 
 his features. 
 
 "Well, Harry," said the new-comer, "who is this 
 little friend of yours?" 
 
 Tom, perceiving that the eyes of the gentleman 
 were fixed upon him, became nervous, and in endeav- 
 oring to bolt a caramel which he had recently placed 
 in his mouth, nearly choked himself. 
 
 "This is Tommy Playfair," said Harry. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! so this is the boy that runs after fire- 
 engines, is it ?" 
 
 "Only did it four or five times in my life, father." 
 
 "And gets himself on top of slippery roofs." 
 
 Tom only remarked: 
 
 "Please, father, I wont do it again." 
 
 Upon this the reverend gentleman who had charge 
 of the boys laughed cheerfully, shook his new ac- 
 quaintance's hand, and, cautioning both to take their
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. ji 
 
 places in a car which he pointed out, hurried away 
 to see to the safety of the luggage. 
 
 " What's his name?" inquired Tom. 
 
 "That's Father Teeman, he's prefect of discipline 
 at the college." 
 
 "Discipline!" echoed Tom, with a vague idea of 
 acat-o'-nine-tails running through his head; "what 
 does that mean?" 
 
 " It means that he does the whipping." 
 
 "Whew! But he doesn't look so savage." 
 
 " He doesn't have to. But just wait till he catches 
 you cutting up. He'll thrash you so as you will pre- 
 fer standing to any other position for a week after." 
 
 Tom was appalled. His companion, could he 
 only know it, was exaggerating grossly for the sake 
 of enjoying the new-comer's surprise and terror. 
 
 "Does he thrash a fellow often?" was Tom's next 
 question. 
 
 "Well, I should say so! last year I got whipped 
 nearly twice a day, and there was scarcely a week 
 that I didn't go to the infirmary to lay up for repairs. * 
 
 "Gracious!" ejaculated Tom. "I wont stand it. 
 Harry, you and I are partners. I'll tell you what 
 let's do. Nobody's watching us. Let's slip out. 
 I've got a dollar, and we can support ourselves on 
 that: and when we get broke, we'll sell newspapers." 
 
 Harry had no idea of encouraging Tom to run 
 away. In his school-boy idea of a good joke, he 
 merely wished to put him in a state of dismal sus- 
 pense. So he said: 
 
 "Oh! you needn't get scared! There's lots of fun 
 out there." 
 
 " I don't see any fun in getting strapped once or 
 twice a day."
 
 3* TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 "You wont get a strapping at all, maybe. I was 
 such a dreadful hard case, you see; that's why I got 
 it." Notwithstanding this avowal it is but just to 
 remark that Harry Quip's features, in their normal 
 state, wore a very mild expression. 
 
 Still, Harry's explanation did not succeed in 
 disarming Tom's fears. If there were to be any 
 wild boys at St. Maure's, Tom, like Abou Ben 
 Adhem, had substantial reasons for believing that 
 his name would lead all the rest. He was about 
 to press his proposition of running away with 
 still greater earnestness, when he heard his name 
 called. 
 
 " Coming directly, sir. I say, Harry, you keep a 
 seat for me next you on the car," and Tom pattered 
 off to bid adieu to his father. 
 
 "Well, my boy," said Mr. Playfair, catching Tom's 
 hand, " I am about to put you into good hands. 
 But you must be careful. You will now be thrown 
 among all kinds of boys bad, good, and indifferent. 
 Remember, that on your choice of company depends 
 in great part your piety. Teachers may instruct, 
 priests may exhort, but if your company be bad you 
 will be no better. And don't forget that every day 
 you are preparing for your First Communion. That 
 should be the day of your life. If you make a good 
 First Communion, you're sure to get on well ; so look 
 out for your company, and try to be as good a boy 
 as you can. Now, my dear child, be watchful on 
 these points. As to the rest, I hold no fear. 
 Here's something to keep your courage up but 
 don't spend it all at once." 
 
 Tom took the advice in good part, and the five- 
 dollar bill with effusive enthusiasm. Then kissing
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 33 
 
 his father, he turned to Aunt Jane. The kind lady 
 could not repress a few sobs. 
 
 "God bless you, my boy!" she faltered. "Be 
 sure and write every week; and I'll pray for you 
 every morning and every night as long as you're 
 away." And she handed him a basket laden with 
 his favorite delicacies. Tom's eyes filled at these 
 exhibitions of his aunt's kindness. 
 
 " I've been awful mean to you, Aunt Jane, lots of 
 time; but I didn't intend anything, you know; and 
 I'm sorry And when I come back I hope I'll be 
 better honor bright." 
 
 Even Mr. Meadow, yielding to the solemn influ- 
 ence of a parting scene, had purchased his nephew 
 a red-covered book, concerning an impossible boy, 
 who met with all kinds of impossible adventures in 
 an impossible country. 
 
 " Chicago-ooo-and Alton Railroad; all aboard for 
 Kansas City!" shouted a voice. 
 , "That's for you, Tommy," Mr. Playfair said. 
 
 They all moved towards the cars indicated. A 
 negro in the official garments of the road met them 
 half-way. 
 
 " Is he a college boy, sah? Step jes dis way, sah. 
 I have de high honaw of taking chahge of all of 
 them. Come on, young gemman. Now, up you 
 go." And without giving our hero an opportunity 
 of making a farewell speech, he quickly raised Tom 
 upon the platform, and, in a manner quite gentle, 
 yet effective, pushed him into the reclining-chair 
 car. 
 
 "Here you are, Tom!" shouted Master Quip, who 
 faithful to his promise had kept his friend a seat 
 beside him. 
 3
 
 34 TOM PLA YFA1K. 
 
 Tom hastened to occupy the vacant chair, and 
 seated himself as the train began to move out from 
 the depot, while the boys gave three vigorous 
 cheers. 
 
 "Ah! I like this," said Tom, throwing himself 
 back in his seat, and yielding to the luxury of the 
 hour. 
 
 "Jolly, isn't it?" Harry observed. "Take a 
 smoke" and he offered Tom a cigarette. 
 
 "Well, no," said Tom with some hesitation. 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you," answered Tom, in a burst 
 of confidence. " I hate anything like humbug. 
 And if I was to smoke now, it would only be to look 
 big. You see I've got no liking for it. I've smoked 
 once or twice up in papa's hay-loft, but it's always 
 made me feel bad. So you see I don't like it; and 
 I'd be a humbug if I pretended I did." 
 
 This was one of the longest speeches Tom had 
 ever made; and it produced its impression. 
 
 "Well, you've got true grit, Tom. And I like 
 you the better for what you've said. I like a smoke 
 myself once in a while, but I'm pretty sure that half 
 the little chaps who smoke do it to look big." 
 
 " I'd rather be little than big," said Tom. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! a man's got to shave, and has to 
 dress stylish, and can't play, nor eat candy in the 
 streets, and lots of things." 
 
 "That's so." 
 
 "Yes; and then half of them get stuck up. And 
 they wear stiff hats, and are afraid to run, and don't 
 play any games at all." 
 
 "Yes," assented Harry; "and then when chaps
 
 TOM PLAYFA1R. 35 
 
 grow up, they've such a lot of worry about bringing 
 out their mustaches." 
 
 Both considered the subject pretty well exhausted. 
 
 "I say," continued Tom, "they're all boys in this 
 car." 
 
 "Yes; it's been chartered for our crowd." 
 
 " Do you know them all ?" 
 
 " I know some of the old boys." 
 
 "Who's that fellow with his coat collar turned 
 so's to hide his ears, and his hair stickin' up like 
 bristles, trying to smoke a cigar as if he was used 
 to it?" 
 
 "That's Johnny Shoestrings." 
 
 " Who?" 
 
 " Johnny Shoestrings. That's his nickname, you 
 know; he's such a slouch. I can't think of his right 
 name." 
 
 " Who's that boy with hair like a carrot banged 
 all over his forehead, and a pug nose, and an aw- 
 fully big mouth?" 
 
 "That's Crazy Green." 
 
 " Crazy Green ?" 
 
 "That's what everybody calls him. He hasn't 
 got any sense, and doesn't know how to behave 
 decent. In fact, I think he's a real bad boy." 
 
 "Do all the fellows have nicknames?" asked 
 Tom. 
 
 "All the old boys have, except one." 
 
 "Who's that?" 
 
 " His real name is Black, and it fits his color so 
 well we thought we'd let him keep it." 
 
 "Who are those five fellows down there, who look 
 like each other's sisters, they're all so timid and 
 pretty ?"
 
 36 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "New-comers," answered Harry. 
 
 Tom's eyes were fascinated by this group; and, 
 not being satisfied with the information Harry had 
 vouchsafed, he went to the other end of the car 
 where he could interview them personally. 
 
 Having first satisfied himself by taking a deliber- 
 ate survey of the five, much to their uneasiness and 
 manifest discomfiture, he opened the conversation 
 thus : 
 
 "I say, halloa!" 
 
 The largest of the group, a boy about fourteen, 
 answered timidly: 
 
 " How do you do, sir?" 
 
 "laintasir: my name's Tom Playfair. What's 
 your name?" 
 
 "Alexander Jones." 
 
 "Whew! five Joneses. Are any of you twins?" 
 
 " Harry and Willie are twins, sir." 
 
 " There aint any triplets among you, are there?" 
 
 "No, sir; not this time," answered Alexander 
 Jones, who in his timidity was accidentally face- 
 tious. 
 
 "Well, good-by; take care of yourselves." And 
 bestowing a genial grin upon the Jones brothers he 
 returned to his seat. 
 
 The train, having now crossed the great bridge 
 that spans the Mississippi and passed out of the city 
 of Alton, was speeding along through the open 
 country. Without it was pitch dark, and the sable 
 solemnity of the night was enhanced by an occasional 
 light that flashed before the eyes of the passengers 
 at the windows, and then as quickly disappeared. 
 
 "I say, what kind of a place is it?" asked Tom, 
 resuming his conversation with Harry.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 37 
 
 "What place? the gravy station?" 
 
 " Is that what you call it?" 
 
 "Yes; they feed us on corn-bread and gravy." 
 
 " And don't you get any meat ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes! they give us meat on Christmas; and at 
 New Years every one gets a small piece of pie." 
 
 "Gracious!" cried Tom, absently placing his hand 
 upon his stomach. " But I suppose you have lots 
 of holidays?" 
 
 " Not so many, I can just tell you; and then even 
 we've got to stay cooped up in a little yard that 
 isn't large enough to swing a cat in." 
 
 "They're not going to treat me that way. When 
 no one is looking I'll slip out every chance I 
 get." 
 
 " If you do," said Master Quip, who was bent on 
 scaring Tom to the utmost, "you'll get collared by a 
 prefect and then posted." 
 
 "What do you mean by 'posted' ?" 
 
 " Why, a great big prefect bangs you up against a 
 tree-box, or a post, or a stonewall; and tells you 
 that if you move from it before three hours are up 
 he'll petrify you." 
 
 Tom groaned. 
 
 "I guess my fun is all over," he muttered in a 
 faltering voice. 
 
 "Oh, we have fun sometimes, you know." 
 
 "How is that?" asked Tom anxiously. 
 
 " Why, we go out walking in ranks two abreast 
 on recreation days, with a big prefect walking in 
 front arid another big prefect behind us. Then we 
 walk six miles or so; that is, we keep on walking 
 till most of the little tads aren't able to stand any 
 Jpnger. We sit down, then, and rest for five min
 
 3 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 utes, before we start to walk back again. And while 
 we are sitting down to rest, we are allowed to talk, 
 you know." 
 
 "Why, can't you talk while you're walking?" 
 
 " Not much," said Harry emphatically. 
 
 "And do you mean to say," cried Tom excitedly, 
 " that after resting five minutes, they're all able to 
 walk back again?" 
 
 "I didn't say any such thing." 
 
 "Are they left behind, then?" 
 
 "No, indeed; they always have a big hay- wagon 
 along; and when a fellow can't walk they tumble 
 him in. But he's got to be mighty tired before that 
 happens." 
 
 "So," said Tom, after a moment's reflection, 
 "that's what you call fun?" 
 
 " Certainly; it's the jolliest kind of fun." 
 
 " I suppose you fellows consider a funeral a good 
 joke." Tom did not know that he was sarcastic. 
 
 "You're talking now," said Harry. "Whenever 
 a boy dies we get off night studies." 
 
 " Does a boy die often out there?" 
 
 Harry ignored the literal meaning of this ques- 
 tion as he answered: 
 
 "Well, no; not as many as we would like. Only 
 two or three a month." 
 
 " What do they die of ?" 
 
 "They don't die at all; they get killed by being 
 hit over the head with a loaded cane." 
 
 Tom jumped up from his seat. 
 
 "Take it back," he said, with considerable fierce- 
 ness. 
 
 " Take what back ?" inquired his astonished friend 
 rising from his reclining position.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. S9 
 
 "You've been telling me yarns. Take it back, 
 will you, or you and I aren't partners any more." 
 
 "Well, I'm willing to take it back. I only did it 
 for fun, just wanted to rattle you a little. You 
 needn't get mad about it." 
 
 Whither the conversation would have drifted it is 
 impossible to say; for, as the train stopped just then 
 at a station, Harry and Tom. with that natural curi- 
 osity to see and know all things which is the proud 
 prerogative of the American boy, dashed out upon 
 the platform. So satisfied were they with this new 
 position, that they resolved to keep it for a time 
 indefinite, and accordingly squatted down on the 
 side steps. They were not long there, however, 
 when Father Teeman ordered them inside. 
 
 "Harry," suggested Tom when they had gained 
 their proper positions, "let's have a little fun." 
 
 "What are you thinking of now?" asked Harry. 
 
 "Let's play conductor." 
 
 Harry glanced around the car dubiously. It was 
 now after ten o'clock ; and most of the boys, wearied 
 with the excitement of the day, were asleep. 
 
 "What's the use," he said, "nobody's awake." 
 
 "All the better." 
 
 "Well, how'll we do it?" 
 
 " Did you see that lantern on the platform of the 
 car ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, that's the idea. Come on." 
 
 Accompanied by Harry, Tom sallied forth, ob- 
 tained possession of the lantern, and again walked 
 into the car. Stealing up to a boy who was locked 
 in slumber, he thrust the lantern into his face and, 
 in as deep a voice as he could assume, said; -
 
 4 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Tickets, please." 
 
 " I haven't got it," cried the boy, jumping up and 
 rubbing his eyes. I gave mine to Father " 
 
 He broke off when he perceived the grinning 
 face of an unknown boy behind the lantern, and in 
 great rage he levelled a blow at the joker. Tom 
 very naturally held up his hands to protect him- 
 self, not taking into account that a lantern was 
 in one of them. Crash! out went the light, 
 down clattered the glass in a hundred fragments. 
 He had guarded himself very well; but the lantern 
 was the worse for it. The youthful conductors stood 
 aghast. 
 
 " Let's put the old thing back," said Tom. 
 
 "Yes; and we'd better hurry," counselled Harry. 
 
 But before they could carry out their purpose, the 
 porter came hurrying in. 
 
 " Young gemmen, who done tuk my lantern from 
 the platform?" And as he spoke he glanced sternly 
 at the discomfited culprits. 
 
 " I did," said Tom. " Here's the old thing; looks 
 like it's exploded, don't it?" 
 
 "Oh, muffins!" cried the porter, "it's ruined, and 
 I'll be discharged. You young bantams, what did 
 you go and spile my lantern for?" 
 
 Tom, remembering the words of Scripture that a 
 soft answer turneth away wrath, put his hand into 
 his pocket, came out with it filled, and said: 
 
 "Here, old fellow, take some candy." 
 
 "Sah! I doesn't want none of your candy. Un- 
 less I can get a lantern at the next station I'm 
 ruined. Can't you pay for it? 'cos if you don't, I'll 
 report you to the company." 
 
 "How much do you want?" asked Tom sadly.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 41 
 
 " Foah dollars, sah," said the negro, smiling, and 
 muttering that he "knowed they was gemmen." 
 
 " I'll give you fifty cents," said Tom. 
 
 " Does you want to ruin a poor man ?" 
 
 " How does a dollar suit you ?" 
 
 "Can't afford it, sah, for less than two dollars." 
 
 "Well, I'll give you a dollar and a half; and 
 we'll call it square." 
 
 " Seein' you're such a puffick gemmen, I"ll take it, 
 sah." And the negro went his way rejoicing in a 
 neat bit of profit. 
 
 "Boys, "said Father Teeman coming upon them 
 from behind, " suppose you go to sleep, or at least 
 give the others a chance to rest. Get your chairs, 
 and keep them." 
 
 "I don't want any more fun to-night," said Tom 
 ruefully. 
 
 "Neither do I," said Harry. 
 
 And the two innocents falling back in their chairs 
 soon slept the sleep of the just. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TOM ARRIVES A T ST. MAURIS AND MAKES THE ACQUAINT- 
 ANCE OF JOHN GREEN UNDER CIRCUMSTANCES NOT 
 ENTIRELY GRATEFUL TO THAT INTERESTING CHAR- 
 A CTER. 
 
 LOOK out, Tom; that's Pawnee Creek." 
 Tom thrust his head out of the window and saw 
 a small picturesque stone-bridge passing over the 
 ghost of a stream of water. He had hardly time to 
 catch one glimpse of it, when his hat blew off, drop- 
 ping straight down into the bed of Pawnee Creek. 
 He drew in his head mournfully.
 
 42 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "I guess travelling is pretty expensive," he 
 growled. "There's twenty-five cents for caramels, 
 one dollar and ten cents for railroad candy that 
 made me sick, eighty-five cents for oranges, a dollar 
 and a half to that nigger for his old lantern, and a 
 new hat to Pawnee Creek." 
 
 " Oh, you can get your hat back easily enough. 
 It's only a short walk from the College. Now, 
 keep your eyes open one minute," continued Harry, 
 "See," he added a few minutes later, "see that road 
 leading along by the hedge? Many's the time I've 
 taken a walk on it. Holloa, there's the good old 
 white fence. Now we are passing the College 
 grounds." 
 
 Tom had scarcely time to take a fair look at the 
 fence, when the train came to a standstill in front 
 of a large four-story brick building with the words 
 "St. Maure's College," crowning its brow. 
 
 Fronting the building was a spacious garden, 
 diversified by several winding and shady walks; 
 fronting the garden was a high white fence, and 
 fronting the high white fence were some hundred 
 and odd boys, with a few professors, awaiting the 
 old scholars and new from the train. But Tom took 
 no notice of all these things; his eyes, ears, feel- 
 ings his whole being seemed to be concentrated 
 on the Professor standing nearest him. The long 
 black cassock and cincture were something new to 
 him; and so great was his astonishment that the 
 loud cheers of the boys, the fierce whistling of the 
 locomotive, the sharp cry of "All aboard," followed 
 by the departure of the train, might, as far as he 
 was concerned, have happened at the other end of 
 the world.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 43 
 
 Harry, who had left him to shake hands with some 
 of his friends, found him, a few minutes later, stand- 
 ing in exactly the same position. 
 
 "Wake up, Tom," he cried, slapping his friend 
 on the back. 
 
 This touch snapped the charm. 
 
 " I say, Harry," he at length burst out, " for good- 
 ness' sake, look at that fellow with the gown on. 
 Isn't he a sight?" 
 
 " Oh, what a greenhorn you are!" said Harry, with 
 an easy air of superiority; " that's not a gown, it's a 
 cassock, and the man in it is your boss: he's the 
 prefect of the small boys." 
 
 Tom's face expressed about two closely written 
 pages of astonishment. 
 
 " Does he always wear that that thing ?" 
 
 "Yes, come on up, and I'll introduce you." 
 
 " But does he really wear it all the time?" 
 
 "That's what I said." 
 
 " Gracious! I'm glad of that. I'd like to see him 
 catch me, if I want to run. Pshaw! he looks for all 
 the world like an old lady." 
 
 "You'll find out, pretty soon, whether he can run 
 or not," retorted Harry a little sharply; " and as to 
 being an old lady, you'll change your mind mighty 
 soon if you try any of your tricks on him. Mr. 
 Middleton, " he continued addressing himself to the 
 subject of these remarks, "here's another St. Louis 
 boy, my friend Tommy Playfair." 
 
 The prefect, with a smile and a word of welcome, 
 cordially shook Tom's hand, at the same time be- 
 stowing such a clear, penetrating look upon the 
 chubby upturned face that, as Tom afterwards de- 
 clared, " Mr. Middleton seemed to see clear through
 
 44 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 his sailor shirt way back to his shirt-collar on the 
 other side." 
 
 "You're a wild colt, I suppose." 
 
 "Not so very wild, sir," said Tom in his gentlest 
 tones. 
 
 " Is he lively as you, Harry?" asked the prefect. 
 
 " I'm not going to be wild any more, Mr. Middle- 
 ton," returned Harry in all meekness. 
 
 Indeed the subdued air that had come over Harry, 
 now that he stood in the presence of his prefect, was 
 something wonderful. 
 
 "Well, Harry," continued Mr. Middleton, "you 
 may take care of your new friend yourself for the 
 present ; I see some new-comers over there who ap- 
 pear to be very timid and ill at ease they are quite 
 lost." And he hastened away to do the honors to 
 the five Jones boys. 
 
 Tom and Harry, left to themselves, sauntered lei- 
 surely up the garden-walk, the former all eyes for his 
 new surroundings. 
 
 " What's that long, low, frame shanty to our right ?" 
 asked Tom. 
 
 "That's the infirmary; when you get sick you go 
 there and lay up for repairs." 
 
 " It looks kind of snug." 
 
 "Yes; but when a fellow's getting just well enough 
 to enjoy the jam* and buttered toast, they turn him 
 out. This large four-story brick building in front 
 of us is the house where the fathers and prefects have 
 their rooms. The lower floor of it on the east side, 
 though, is the refectory for us little boys. You know 
 there are two 'yards, two refectories, two study-halls, 
 and two wash-rooms and four dormitories, so as to 
 keep little boys and big boys apart; the large room
 
 TOM PLAY FAIR. 45 
 
 just above the refectory is our study-hail ; now come 
 on over to our washroom and we'll wash and brush 
 up before dinner." 
 
 They turned to the right on reaching the railed 
 steps leading up to the brick building, and passed 
 between the infirmary on one side and on the other a 
 substantial three-story structure of stone, which, as 
 Harry informed Tom, was the class-room building. 
 
 Continuing straight on, they passed through a 
 double gate generally ajar, by the way and found 
 themselves in an open play-ground about four hun- 
 dred feet long by two hundred wide. 
 
 "This is the small boys' yard," volunteered Harry. 
 
 " Yes ?" queried Tom plaintively. " Does a fellow 
 have to stay around here all the time?" 
 
 "All the time, if he doesn't behave himself. But 
 come on; let's hurry in before the rush." 
 
 Beside the gate, at their right, and next to the 
 class-room building, stood a two-story frame house, 
 the upper floor of which was a dormitory and the 
 lower a wash-room. 
 
 On entering, a novel scene presented itself to Tom's 
 eyes. With the exception of one plain and two shovel- 
 board tables, and a few benches, the main body of 
 the room was devoid of all furniture or other obstruc- 
 tion. But lining the four walls all around was a 
 series of small boxes with hinged doors, each box di- 
 vided into an upper and lower partition, used for the 
 keeping of soap, brushes, toilet articles, and the like ; 
 and above the boxes were scattered towels, soap, and 
 tin basins in all manner of ungraceful confusion; the 
 towels, for the most part, dangling from a water-pipe, 
 ornamented with here and there a faucet. At the 
 time that our two friends entered there were a few
 
 46 TOM PLA VFA1R. 
 
 boys in the room, engaged at their ablutions, while 
 a prefect, note-book in hand, was giving each boy on 
 his entrance one of the many boxes. 
 
 " Howdo, Mr. Phelan, " said Harry, tipping his hat 
 and shaking hands with his superior. 
 
 "Why, Harry! So here you are again." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Phelan, I'm like a bad penny." 
 
 "In one sense, yes, "said Mr. Phelan; "but you're 
 too modest. I'm delighted to see you again. And 
 I see you have a new friend. Who is this?" 
 
 " This is Tommy Playfair, Mr. Phelan. And I say, 
 can't I have my old box again, same as last year it 
 was near that window, you know and can't Tom 
 Playfair have the one next to me ? I'm the only boy 
 here that he knows." 
 
 Mr. Phelan, who had, in the mean time, taken Tom's 
 hand with a smile of welcome, assented to Master 
 Harry's requests. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Harry effusively; and he 
 conducted Tom to box number twenty-nine, near the 
 window he had pointed out in the making of his 
 petition. 
 
 " This is number twenty-nine my box, Tom ami 
 here's your's next to mine, number thirty." 
 
 But Tom was not satisfied. 
 
 " That little bit of a box for me!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Why, of course," Harry responded. "You don't 
 want the earth, do you ?" 
 
 Without making any answer to this important ques- 
 tion, Tom walked over to the prefect. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Phelan, can't I have another box, be- 
 sides the one you've given me?" 
 
 " Why ? What have you to say against the bo% J 
 gave you ?"
 
 TOM PLAYFA1R. 41 
 
 "Oh, that's all right! but I want two boxes." 
 
 " Indeed! what do you want two boxes for?" 
 
 "Well, you see, I want one for my books, you 
 know." 
 
 "Oh! "said the prefect, breaking into a smile, 
 "you'll get a desk in the study-hall for them!" 
 
 " Oh ! that's it is it ?" and Tom, satisfied with this 
 information, rejoined Harry Quip, who with his eyes 
 bulging out of his head had been watching Tom's 
 proceedings in utmost astonishment. 
 
 In the mean time the wash-room had been rapidly 
 filling. Every other moment witnessed the appear- 
 ance of new faces. Among those that entered, some, 
 notably the Jones boys, were timid beyond descrip- 
 tion; others, like Tom, were quite tranquil and self- 
 possessed; others again were rather bold and un- 
 doubtedly noisy. This latter class aroused Tom's 
 curiosity. 
 
 " I say, Harry," he inquired, " who are those fellows 
 in here that talk so loud, and lift up their shoulders 
 when they walk around, and go on as if they owned 
 the whole place ?" 
 
 "Sh! don't talk so loud, Tom," said Harry, with 
 unaffected seriousness. " They're a few of the old 
 boys. You see they're perfectly at home. They're 
 apt to be pretty hard on new-comers." 
 
 "Are all the old boys that way?" was Tom's next 
 question. 
 
 "Well, not all. But a great many are." 
 
 These questions and answers afford considerable 
 insight into the economy of boarding-school life. 
 We hear and read a great deal about the easy confi- 
 dence, nay boldness of old servants, old clerks, 
 and the like; but what are they all compared to the
 
 4^ TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 old student at boarding-school ? As a new-comer, 
 he may be the most timid, the most meek of mortals. 
 The first few weeks of his changed life he may rarely 
 speak above a whisper. But with the rolling months, 
 as he picks up a friend or so, evidences of ease and 
 natural bearing insinuate themselves into his address. 
 At the end of the term he departs, it may be, a quiet, 
 gentlemanly boy. But, vacation over, lo! he returns 
 as one of the owners of earth and sky with all the as- 
 surance and arrogance attributed by the American 
 press to a plumber in mid-winter. Every look, 
 every tone, every gesture proclaims in terms unmis- 
 takable that he is an old boy; that he knows more 
 about life in any phase than a new-comer; that he 
 is up to every conceivable turn of school-boy fortune; 
 that a new boy, how naturally gifted soever, is but 
 an inferior sort of creature ; and that, in fine, there 
 is nothing, humanly speaking, in the heavens above 
 or the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth, 
 that can compare with that supremest of mortals 
 the old boy. It would be an injustice, however, to 
 let the reader suppose that all old boys belong to this 
 class. Not so ; quite a goodly number are as polite, 
 unpretending, gentlemanly, and sensible as the most 
 refined new-comer. 
 
 Johnny Green was an old boy of the former 
 class. 
 
 For the last five or six minutes he had been mak- 
 ing himself very conspicuous in the wash-room, by 
 talking in a raised voice whenever the prefect was 
 out of hearing of the way he had " got ahead of the 
 old man," as he irreverently termed his father, of the 
 great and disgusting number of " new kids" that had 
 already appeared in the wash-room, and of their un-
 
 TOM PI.A YFAIR. 49 
 
 commonly disagreeable appearance, which Master 
 Green put down as being "rather green." 
 
 Having completed his toilet, which consisted 
 chiefly, and indeed almost exclusively, in so arrang- 
 ing his hair as to conceal almost entirely his freckled 
 forehead, John Green stationed himself at the narrow 
 door of the wash-room, where he amused himself, at 
 such odd times as the attending prefect's preoccupy- 
 ing duties allowed, by tripping up various little new- 
 comers, as they chanced to leave or enter. 
 
 Tom and Harry were now going out; and Green 
 was anxiously awaiting his new victim. Harry 
 advanced first, and, being an old boy, was allowed to 
 pass unmolested; then came Tom, who, by the way, 
 had been watching Master Green's little practical 
 joke for fully five minutes. As Tom was verging 
 upon the threshold, Green put out his foot; suddenly 
 a howl arose from the bully's mouth. 
 
 "Why, good gracious!" exclaimed Tom, turning 
 on his steps, "did I walk on your foot? But really, 
 what a big foot you've got!" 
 
 "You wretched little fool," roared the bully, who 
 was now hopping about with a combination of earn- 
 estness and liveliness, exhilarating to see; "you've 
 stepped on at least five of my corns." 
 
 "That's too bad," Tom made answer, with his 
 face screwed into its most serious expression. " But 
 all the farmers say there's going to be a large corn 
 crop this year." 
 
 With this consolatory reflection he passed on arm 
 in arm with Harry Quip, who was struggling, but 
 with sorry success, to keep a straight face, leaving the 
 discomfited Master Green to continue or conclude his 
 dance as he pleased 
 4
 
 $6 TOM PLAVFAiR. 
 
 Adjoining the end of the wash-room there was 
 and is yet, doubtless a small shed, under whose 
 protecting cover were a turning-pole, a pair of par- 
 allel bars, a few other articles of gymnastics, and a 
 line of benches. Upon one of these latter our two 
 friends seated themselves, calmly awaiting the wel- 
 come sound of the dinner bell. But the calm how 
 history repeats itself! proved to be the forerunner 
 of a storm. 
 
 Scarcely had they composed themselves in their 
 seats, when John Green, who was wearied of dancing, 
 and was anxious to meet Tom in a place beyond sight 
 of all prefects, turned the corner. Leisurely leaning 
 his head on his left arm, his left arm on one of the 
 parallel bars, and placing his right hand on his hip 
 he had made a special study of this special attitude 
 during vacation he fastened a stern gaze upon Tom. 
 Notwithstanding, our hero seemed to be oblivious of 
 Green's presence. 
 
 "I say," began the bully, when he realized that 
 both pose and gaze had shot wide of the mark, " are 
 there any more like you at home?" 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure," answered Tom with 
 suavity; "but if you wish, I'll write home and 
 ask." 
 
 At this retort three or four new-comers who were 
 sitting near by, and had been gazing about listlessly, 
 broke into a titter. The bully glared at them fero- 
 ciously, whereupon their faces fell into length again, 
 and a far-away look the symptom of home-sickness 
 came into their eyes. Harry had laughed too; 
 but his laugh met with no rebuke ; he was an old boy, 
 and in consequence was entitled to the privilege. 
 
 Encouraged by the power of his eye, Master Green
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 51 
 
 turned it in full force upon Tom, and again addressed 
 himself to that unterrified youth. 
 
 "What's y*our name, Sonny?" 
 
 Tom's face assumed a troubled expression; he 
 passed his hand over his forehead and through his 
 hair then, after a pause, made answer: 
 
 "Can't remember it just now. My memory's bad 
 when the weather's warm. It's an awful long name. 
 It took the priest over five minutes to get it in, the 
 day I was baptized." 
 
 Another titter from the listeners, and a loud laugh 
 from Harry. But Green was too astonished at the 
 coolness of the new-comer to check this outburst. 
 
 "I suppose," continued Green, with excessive 
 irony, "you think you're funny?" 
 
 " I guess I do," answered Tom blandly. " All the 
 family say I am; and when I was home they'd never 
 let me go to funerals, for fear I'd make 'em laugh 
 in the solemn parts." 
 
 A prolonged giggle and a louder laugh. 
 
 " You're terribly smart," exclaimed the withering 
 Green, who, forgetting his pose, was now quite stiff 
 and bolt upright. 
 
 "Smart!" echoed Tom, "why, now you're hitting 
 the nail right on the head. The fellows at the school 
 I 'tended last year said they wouldn't come back if 
 I did, because I always carried off all the premiums; 
 and that's why I came here." 
 
 "You'd better shut your mouth or I'll hit you one," 
 vociferated the bully, drowning the laughter evoked 
 by this last retort; and as he spoke he pulled up the 
 arms of his coat, revealing in the act a pair of cuffs 
 with many-flashing cuff-buttons. 
 
 " Oh ! if you're going to strike," pursued Tom with
 
 52 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 all the placidity of a midspring zephyr, "I think I 
 had better shut my mouth, or you might poke your 
 fist down my throat, and then I'd be sick for life." 
 
 In this quick rejoinder there was to the spectators 
 gazing upon Green's clenched fists a certain obvious- 
 ness of point; consequently it aroused mirth in all 
 the listeners and rage in the heart of the bully. 
 
 "You're a coward!" he foamed. 
 
 "That's whatjw/ say," said Tom. 
 
 "And a sneak." 
 
 "That's vfhatyvu say." 
 
 "And a mule thief." 
 
 "I never stole you." 
 
 This was too much for Green ; he made a spring 
 nt Tom. But Harry caught his arm. 
 
 "Hold on, Green, "said Harry. "Just take a boy 
 of your size." 
 
 Harry and Tom, it should be remarked, were each 
 i year or two younger than Green. 
 
 " Let go of me, will you?" shouted the bully. 
 
 "No; I wont." 
 
 Suddenly John Green became very quiet, jumped 
 upon the parallel bars, and began swinging up and 
 down; Mr. Middleton had just turned the corner. 
 Harry broke into a whistle, while Tom maintained 
 his blandness to the end. Before hostilities could be 
 renewed the bell rang for dinner. 
 
 " You took him up in great shape, Tom," observed 
 Harry on the way to the refectory. " Where did you 
 get that cool way of saying things?" 
 
 " Oh, I used to have a great many rows with my 
 uncle; and he got me so's I couldn't get excited." 
 
 "All the same, you'd better keep your eyes open. 
 Green will pay you back for your talk before long.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 53 
 
 Anyhow, if I'm around, or any decent old fellow, 
 you'll be all right. He's a coward and a mean boy, 
 and if he caught you alone he'd be sure to take it 
 out on you. But he wont tackle us together." 
 
 They were now at the door of the refectory; as 
 each student entered Mr. Middleton assigned him his 
 place at one of the ten tables, each of these being 
 laid for twelve. 
 
 To their regret, Harry and Tom were placed at 
 different tables. Dinner passed off quietly. Before 
 thanks had been returned, Mr. Middleton announced 
 that each boy should, immediately on leaving the 
 refectory, go to the room of the prefect of studies, 
 where he would learn his class and obtain a list of 
 the books which he should procure from the procura- 
 tor, or (being translated) the buyer. 
 
 Tom and Harry, who contrived to have their inter- 
 view with the prefect of studies at the same time, 
 were both assigned to the class of Rudiments a class 
 where the student is prepared to enter upon the study 
 of Latin. They managed to get their books about 
 the same time, too; and so, to their undisguised de- 
 light, Mr. Middleton appointed them seats next each 
 other in the hall of studies. 
 
 "Tom, this is just glorious!" exclaimed Harry, 
 as they emerged from the study room. "We're in 
 the same class; and we're right next each other for 
 studies. But look here! while you were getting 
 your books, and I was outside waiting for you, 
 I heard something. Do you know the first thing 
 Green's going to do to you?" 
 
 "No; what?" 
 
 "Why, the first chance he gets to-day he's going 
 to pin a paper on your back with
 
 54 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 'KICK ME 
 I AM A FOOL' 
 
 on it. He's waiting his chance now in the yard, I 
 think." 
 
 Tom stood still, and gave himself up for a few sec- 
 onds to reflection; then he resumed his walk and 
 observed : 
 
 " We'll fix him, if he tries it, Harry. I'll tell you 
 what: we'll let him go pretty far with his joke. I 
 wont notice him. But when he gets behind me, and 
 is pinning it on, you take out your handkerchief 
 will you? Of course you'll be standing in front and 
 facing me." 
 
 "What'll you do?" 
 
 "You'll see. He wont enjoy the joke very much 
 anyhow. " 
 
 No sooner had the boys entered the yard, than 
 they noticed that John Green was eyeing them 
 closely. 
 
 " He's waiting his chance," whispered Harry. 
 
 "Just so," answered Tom. "Say, let's go down 
 by the hand-ball alley." 
 
 Harry acquiesced, and both made their way to the 
 further end of the yard. Harry, with his hands in his 
 pockets, leaned against the body of the alley so as to 
 take in the whole playground, while Tom, also hands 
 in pockets, stood facing Harry, commanding a vietf 
 of nothing save what was included in the two walls of 
 the alley. Green, in the mean time, was following in 
 their wake with stealthy steps; even Tom could di- 
 vine this from the expression on Harry's countenance. 
 At length Green had secured a suitable position for 
 pinning on the placard. He stooped. Forthwith 
 Harry drew out his handkerchief.
 
 TOM PLAYFA1R. 55 
 
 "Talking of jumping," exclaimed Tom at once, 
 "how's this?" and he gave a sharp backward kick 
 with his right foot. 
 
 Green received the full force of this on his shins 
 the tenderest part of him, perhaps, by the law of corn* 
 pensation, for his head was within a little of being 
 actually impregnable both as to blows and as to 
 ideas. 
 
 On the moment, Green testified his presence by a 
 prolonged howl. 
 
 " Good gracious!" Tom exclaimed > turning around 
 and addressing Green, who with both hands was hold- 
 ing one knee, and hopping enthusiastically with the 
 only foot he had at liberty : " Why how in the world 
 did you come to be behind me? You're terribly 
 unlucky aint you?" 
 
 A crowd of boys, who had been watching Green's 
 ill-timed attempt to fasten on the placard, were now 
 shouting and laughing, as they hurried down the yard 
 to take in, in fuller detail, the victim's lively and 
 novel dance. 
 
 " Does it hurt ?" asked Tom compassionately, as he 
 picked up the placard, which Green had allowed to 
 fall to the ground. 
 
 "Does it hurt?" bawled Green, suspending his 
 dance to give full effect to his answer. "Oh no! it 
 doesn't hurt at all. It's awful pleasant, you fool!" 
 And with this burst of eloquence, he resumed his 
 dancing. 
 
 "I say, what's this?" enquired Tom, holding the 
 placard at arm's length, and scanning it critic- 
 ally. " Is this your paper ?" 
 
 "Yes; and I wish you and that paper were in 
 Halifax."
 
 S& TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 The intense devotion of this sentiment was beyond 
 doubt. 
 
 "But, "pursued Tom, "you've got 'kick me' writ- 
 ten on it. So you've got what you want. And are 
 you really and truly a fool ?" 
 
 This question so angered Green that he lost sight 
 of his pain. Releasing his injured leg, he made a 
 savage rush at Tom. But this time, too, his inten- 
 tions were frustrated. George Keenan, a boy who 
 had attended St. Maure's for several years, and who, 
 judging by his modesty, didn't seem to know it, 
 caught the aggressor's arm with a grip which elicited 
 another howl. 
 
 "Let him alone, Green; he served you right. 
 You've no business to be picking on boys under your 
 size every chance you get. And look here, you'd 
 better not teach him when John Donnell or I am 
 around." And George walked away. 
 
 The bully was too crestfallen to face his fellow- 
 students. Scowling and shame-faced, he hobbled 
 off to the infirmary to get his leg " painted " with 
 iodine. 
 
 George Keenan, who has here entered upon the 
 scene, merits a few words. He was a model boy ; not 
 the kind of a model boy that figures in many tales for 
 the young; but such a model as you may expect to 
 meet with occasionally, nay God be thanked for 
 it oftentimes in real life. 
 
 At baseball, running, handball, football, and all 
 manner of athletic games, no one was more skilled 
 than George. He was small, undergrown for his 
 years, and slightly made; still his strength was un- 
 questioned. And yet no one had ever known George 
 to exert his strength for mean or low purposes, no
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 57 
 
 one had ever known him to use his influence for aught 
 save what was ennobling. He was everybody's friend 
 with him the bad were, for the nonce, good; and 
 the good were better. Withal, he was cheerful, jo- 
 cose, and a bit of a wag. He made his way through 
 life with the brightness and wholesomeness of a sun- 
 beam. Nor is George, among the general run of 
 boarding-school students, an isolated character. 
 
 In every well-conducted boarding school there are 
 hearts as wafm and minds as noble. These boys 
 are themselves the least self-conscious of mortals. 
 Though they know it not, they are doing work, and 
 good work, too, for the Lord and Saviour whom in 
 the nobility of their hearts they love with manly 
 tenderness. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM IS PERSUADED TO GO TO SLEEP. 
 
 NO doubt many of my readers have been asking 
 themselves what manner of hero is Tom Play- 
 fair. Couldn't the author have selected a better, or 
 at least a more refined character ? This Tom is bold, 
 given to slang, rather forward, self-willed, and but 
 stay, reader, let us get in a word. We throw up our 
 hands, and grant the full force and truth of all these 
 naughty adjectives. Indeed there are faults, and 
 great faults, to be found in Tom. There are many 
 flaws in the crystal. But what then? These little 
 flaws, after all, are not irremediable. Tom may be 
 a real gem even if it be that the gem is in the rough. 
 Some of his flaws, indeed, are simply untrimmed vir-
 
 $8 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 tues. His boldness is an exaggerated manliness 
 certainly it has nothing of the bully in its ring; his 
 slang is that ineffectual struggle for humor so notice- 
 able in many young people; and in them, at least we 
 speak not for maturer sinners in this line pardona- 
 ble; his forwardness is the exaggeration of what we 
 all love and hold fast to American independence. 
 But enough on the score of excuses. Let us hope 
 that the edges may be rounded ; that the gem in the 
 rough may sparkle unto the admiration of many, that 
 the exaggeration of American virtues may be subdued 
 to that golden mean which we all admire so much 
 and practise so little. 
 
 Tom's dialogue with the shin-worried Green, while 
 drawing our hero into prominent notice, gained him 
 a host of admirers and a few friends. 
 
 As he and Harry were taking a stroll about the 
 yard, shortly after Green's departure in quest of that 
 boarding-school-boy panacea, iodine, he was accosted 
 by a little lad in knickerbockers, his expression a 
 mixture of timidity and wistfulness. 
 .."Well, my son, "said Tom, who was about half an 
 inch taller than the stranger, " what can I do for 
 you ?" 
 
 " I'm so glad you didn't let that Green get ahead 
 of you. He's mean; he pinched me for nothing, and 
 asked me whether my mother knew I was out and 
 and I don't want to stay here. My baby sister" 
 here the little man began to cry "wont know me 
 when I get home." 
 
 " He's homesick got it bad," whispered Harry in 
 a kindly tone. 
 
 "Here," said Tom; "take some candy." 
 
 The youngster accepted the candy, and tried to
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 59 
 
 cheer up; he ceased crying, though he gave vent at 
 intervals to deep sighs. 
 
 "Come and sit down here," continued Tom. 
 "Now, what's your name?" 
 
 " Joe Whyte. My pa is a doctor in Hot Springs, 
 and he's got lots of money, and rides round in a horse 
 and buggy." 
 
 " It must be fun riding round in a horse," observed 
 Harry. " Does he do that often ?" 
 
 Joe relented into a smile. 
 
 "Haven't you any friends here?" pursued Tom. 
 
 "No; and I want to go home," sobbed Joe, in a 
 fatal relapse. "The boys are all mean here; and 
 nothing is good." 
 
 "Oh, you don't know 'em well enough yet," said 
 Tom; and he added with ingenuous modesty, " Harry 
 and myself are good fellows. You just wait, Joe, 
 till you grow up to be a man, and then you wont have 
 to go to boarding-school, you know. Then your papa 
 will die, and you'll have all his money, and go riding 
 round in a horse and " 
 
 "Boo-oo!" interrupted Joe, appalled by this ill- 
 directed bit of word-painting. " I don't want my 
 papa to die." 
 
 " Don't get so excited," put in Harry. " He isn't 
 going to die now." 
 
 "I don't want him to die at all," blubbered the 
 wretched victim of homesickness. " I want to go 
 home right now, and see him and mamma and Sissy 
 and little Jane and all of 'em." 
 
 "I tell you what," said Tom; " let's be friends, 
 and then you wont be lonesome. What do you say, 
 Joe ?" 
 
 With one hand rubbing his eyes, Joe extended the
 
 60 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 other first to Tom, then to Harry. Each of these 
 young gentlemen shook it warmly. 
 
 Master Joe's case is a fair specimen of the malady 
 which attacks almost invariably the new boy home- 
 sickness. Like measles, whooping-cough, or sea- 
 sickness, few escape it and, still true to the likeness, 
 it seizes upon its victim with various degrees of ma- 
 lignity. Under an ordinary attack, the patient feels 
 fully convinced that life outside the home-circle is 
 not worth living. Games, meals, even candies lose 
 their zest. Like the quality of mercy, homesickness 
 is "mightiest in the mightiest"; the large boy when 
 afflicted with it is a piteous sight indeed. 
 
 After five o'clock supper, the students took recrea- 
 tion till six, when a bell summoned them to the hall 
 of studies. Here they were at liberty to sort and 
 examine their books, and write their parents assurance 
 of their safe arrival. 
 
 Tom on entering noticed that the older boys, in- 
 stead of seating themselves at once, were all stand- 
 ing in silence. Following their implicit guidance, 
 he too stood beside his desk, and fixed an inquiring 
 look upon Mr. Middleton, who from a raised platform 
 commanded a view of the entire study hall. 
 
 Whilst Tom was still wondering why the old boys 
 were so slow about sitting down, the prefect made 
 the sign of the cross and recited the " Veni Sancte 
 Spiritus." This beautiful prayer concluded, all ad- 
 dressed themselves to their work. 
 
 Instead of beginning to study, Tom sat for some 
 time curiously watching the movements of those 
 about him. The old boys, with scarce an exception, 
 were inscribing their respective names in their new 
 books, the new-comers were rummaging in their desks
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 6 1 
 
 in a vain attempt at appearing easy and self-possessed. 
 Mr. Middleton seemed to have his eyes on every one. 
 
 Presently a professor entered the study hall, and 
 Mr. Middleton retired. This professor was the reg- 
 ular study-keeper. 
 
 Tom gazed at the new official for some moments, 
 and then turned to Harry. 
 
 " I say, what's the name of that man?" 
 
 "Sh!" said Harry. 
 
 Throwing a look of disgust at his admonitor, Tom 
 turned to Joe Whyte, who sat at his left side, and re- 
 peated the question. 
 
 "I don't know," returned Joe. 
 
 " Say, what are you going to do this hour?" 
 
 " I'm goin' to write home and ask them to take me 
 away from this place." 
 
 "Oh, don't be in a hurry about that!" whispered 
 Tom; "after a few days you will begin to know the 
 fellows better and " Just then a hand was laid 
 upon his arm, and Tom on lifting his eyes saw the 
 study-keeper before him, looking rather stern than 
 otherwise. 
 
 "Keep silence in here, Playfair," he said, "no 
 talking; take out your books and paper and go to 
 work." 
 
 " Say, Mister, how did you come to know my 
 name?" 
 
 The study-keeper bit his lip to restrain a smile and 
 moved to another part of the hall. The secret of his 
 knowing Tom's name was very simple. 
 
 A map is made of each boy's place in the study- 
 hall, wash-room, refectory, dormitory, and chapel. 
 One glance at the map will inform the presiding 
 pfficer whether each boy be at his post, and, in conse-
 
 6"2 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 quence of this system, a boy cannot absent himself 
 from college for any period beyond an hour at the 
 most without being missed. 
 
 Thus admonished, Tom opened his desk, took out 
 his writing materials, and after great effort, much 
 blotting of paper, soiling of fingers, and intellectual 
 travail, delivered himself of the following letter: 
 
 ST. MARS COLLEGE, 
 Sept. 5, 1 88-. 
 MY DEAR AUNT JANE: 
 
 I take my pen in hand to let you know that i am well, hope- 
 ing this leaves you the same. St. Mars is a pretty jolly sort 
 of a place; and i am not one bit home sick; lots of new kids 
 are. Tell Jeff Thomas I will write to him soon. Who is tak- 
 in care of my pijins? Tell papa my love. Is my rooster with 
 the long tale all rite ? My money is nearly all gone. I had an 
 axident on the car comin here, and I had to pay the nigger 
 porter for an old lantern. Good bye. I am goin to study rite 
 hard. Your lovely nephew, 
 
 THOMAS PLAYFAIR. 
 
 While he was addressing the envelope destined to 
 carry away this choice bit of literature, he felt some 
 one poking him in the back. On turning, he per- 
 ceived a hand extended from under the desk behind 
 him, holding a bit of paper. Tom received the note. 
 It read as follows: 
 
 MISTER PLAYFAIR: 
 
 Say will you fite me at recess, behind the old church bilding. 
 
 Yrs., 
 
 JOHN GREEN. 
 P. S. You're a sneak. 
 
 To which Tom elaborately replied: 
 
 DEAR MISTER GREEN: 
 
 How did you come to be called green? and why do the boys 
 call you crazy ? How is your knee ? does it hurt much ? You
 
 fOM PLAYFAIK. 63 
 
 don't spell well Fife is wrong; it ought to be fight. You are 
 biger than i am and older. Insted of fighting you ought to 
 study your speling book. Fightin' is low and i don't want to 
 and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. When you rite home 
 give my love to your papa and mamma. 
 Yrs., 
 
 THOMAS PLAYFAIR. 
 
 After passing this note, he took a leisurely survey 
 of the study-hall, stretched his arms; then concluded 
 to go out. Taking up his cap, which, by the way, he 
 had borrowed from Harry Quip on losing his own, 
 he walked toward the door. Just as he was opening 
 it, his progress was arrested by the study-keeper's 
 voice. 
 
 " Playfair, go back to your seat." This in a very 
 imperative tone. 
 
 " I'm going out, sir," said Tom, pausing with his 
 hand on the door-knob to impart this information. 
 
 " Go back to your seat." 
 
 With a look of patient unmerited persecution Tom 
 returned to his place, casting wrathful glances on the 
 way at several who were grinning at his mistake. 
 
 A little later the bell rang; and all repaired to the 
 yard to enjoy a few minutes of recess. 
 
 This over, they recited night prayers in common, 
 and retired to their dormitories for the night. 
 
 The novel sight of a hundred boys undressing as 
 one struck Tom as being rather funny than otherwise. 
 Indeed he was so absorbed in a humorous survey of 
 this spectacle that he stood stock still, grinning 
 broadly and incessantly for some minutes. A hand 
 upon his arm called him down from his humorous 
 heights. It was Mr. Middleton. 
 
 "Playfair," he whispered, "have you anything on 
 hand just now?"
 
 6 4 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 " No, sir," answered Tom, wondering what would 
 come next. 
 
 "Well, then, you had better undress, and get to 
 bed." And Mr. Middleton resumed the saying of his 
 beads, as he continued his route up and down the 
 passage formed between the beds. 
 
 " Pshaw!" growled Tom. "A fellow can't look 
 cross-eyed here, but he gets hauled up for it. I don't 
 see any harm in looking around." And sadly he 
 proceeded to pull off his sailor-shirt. He had just 
 succeeded in getting this garment free of one arm, 
 when he perceived Harry Quip some ten or eleven 
 beds further off. Harry caught his glance and smiled. 
 The smile brought sunshine back into Tom's heart; 
 suspending further operations on the sailor-shirt, he 
 playfully put the thumb of his right hand to his nose, 
 and made the popular signal with his fingers. 
 
 Instead of taking this friendly and jocose demon- 
 stration in the spirit in which it was given, Harry's 
 face lengthened into dismay, while his eyes glanced 
 apprehensively in the direction of Mr. Middleton. 
 Tom, following the movement of Harry's eyes, turned 
 and yes! there it was again saw Mr. Middleton 
 bearing down upon him. 
 
 "Well, I'm switched," he thought, as he slipped 
 out of his clothes with marvellous speed, " if he isn't 
 makin' for me again." And leaping into bed he 
 buried his face in the pillow. 
 
 "Young man," whispered Mr. Middleton, bending 
 down over him, " we want no levity in this dormi- 
 tory." 
 
 "No what, sir?" 
 
 "No levity." 
 
 "What's that, sir?"
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 65 
 
 " Sh ! don't talk so loud. I mean you mustn't talk, 
 whisper, laugh, or make signs. Do you understand 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes; but" 
 
 "That'll do; go to sleep now; and if you have 
 any objections to make I'll hear you in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "He's a nice one," grumbled Tom to his pillow. 
 " He wont give a fellow any chance to explain." 
 
 Two minutes later he was sleeping a dreamless 
 sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 fN WHICH GREEN AND TOM RUN A RACE WHICH PROVES 
 DISASTROUS TO BOTH. 
 
 CLANG clang clang clang clang ! 
 " Halloa ! what's the matter ? " cried Tom, in the 
 midst of this clatter, as he jumped out of bed and 
 rubbed his eyes. 
 
 The cause of the din was a large, iron-tongued 
 bell, which Mr. Middleton was ringing right lustily. 
 
 Tom looked about him; all the students, with the 
 exception, of course, of several of the old boys, who 
 were quite accustomed to this unearthly sound, were 
 up and dressing. 
 
 " It's a little too early for me," thought Tom ; and, 
 satisfied that the horrid bell had become silent, he 
 turned in again. He was peacefully dozing off when 
 a hand was laid upon him. 
 
 " Playfair, did you hear the bell ?" 
 
 " Did I ? I should think I did ! That's all right, 
 5
 
 66 TOM PLAYFAtR. 
 
 Mr. Middleton; but I guess I don't care about get- 
 ting up just now." 
 
 The sentence was barely out of his mouth, when, 
 as it appeared to him, there was a mild form of earth- 
 quake in the vicinity; and before he could realize 
 that anything had happened at all, he was sprawling 
 on the floor with his mattress on top. 
 
 "I say, what did you do that for?" he sputtered; 
 but Mr. Middleton was already half-way down the 
 aisle. 
 
 " If that's the way they treat a fellow the first day, 
 what' 11 they do on the last ?" he murmured. " I don't 
 think this school is much account anyhow." 
 
 On rising, the boys were allowed half an hour for 
 washing and dressing. Then came Mass, followed 
 by studies and breakfast. 
 
 At nine o'clock on this particular day they had 
 what is technically termed " Lectio brevis " ; that is, 
 the teachers of the respective classes gave their 
 boys a short talk, and appointed lessons for the next 
 day. 
 
 Tom was mildly surprised, and a trifle dismayed, 
 when he discovered that his teacher for the year was 
 none other than Mr. Middleton. But after listening 
 in silence for some minutes to his professor's opening 
 speech, he concluded that perhaps things might not 
 be so bad. 
 
 The " Lectio brevis " was compressed into an hour, 
 and the students had the rest of the day free. 
 
 Shortly after dinner Harry Quip, accompanied by 
 a strange boy, approached Tom. 
 
 " Tom, here's a particular friend of mine, Willie 
 Ruthers; and I'm sure he'll be a great friend of 
 yours. "
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 67 
 
 Willie and Tom shook hands, while Will murmured 
 sheepishly, " Happy to see you " 
 
 " Wont you take some candy ?" inquired Tom. 
 
 The candy was gratefully received, and the friend- 
 ship of the two was firmly based. 
 
 " Have you been out walking yet?" asked Willie. 
 
 " No ; and that's a fact ; Harry, we ought to go and 
 get that hat of mine at Pawnee Creek." 
 
 Obtaining permission from the prefect, they set 
 out on their walk along the railroad track, and in 
 course of time discovered the hat partially embedded 
 in the mud. When on their return they came near 
 the college, Harry proposed that they should pass 
 through the "Blue-grass." The "Blue-grass" is a 
 favorite resort of the boys. It lies just beyond the 
 college yard, and is well shaded with large, graceful 
 pine trees. 
 
 It chanced on this particular day that the only oc- 
 cupants of the " Blue-grass" were John Green and 
 three lads of similar taste. 
 
 Green caught sight of our trio from afar. 
 
 "Oh, I say, boys," he exclaimed, "here comes the 
 funny man. Come on here, you young sneak," he 
 added, addressing himself to Tom, "and we'll settle 
 our accounts." 
 
 "Tom," whispered Harry earnestly, "let's run; 
 those fellows with him wont let me or Willie help 
 you; and Green has been acting like a bully since 
 he's come back from vacation." 
 
 " I'm not going to run, unless I've got to," answered 
 Tom; and he walked straight on, intending to pass 
 by Green and his following. But Green put himself 
 squarely in the trio's path. 
 
 "Where are you going, funny man?" he inquired.
 
 68 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "I'm going to St. Maine's this year. How's your 
 shin ?" 
 
 "You've got to fight me, you sneak," pursued 
 Green, reddening with anger at the retort. 
 
 "But I don't want to fight, you see." 
 
 " I don't care a cent what you want. Put up your 
 hands. I'll teach you to sass me. You can't get 
 out of it!" 
 
 "Can't I though? Catch me," and as Tom spoke 
 he dashed away in the direction of Pawnee Creek. 
 
 It took some seconds for Green to realize this sud- 
 den and utterly unexpected change of front; then 
 with a shout of wrath he gave chase. 
 
 Before leaving home, it may be explained, Tom 
 had made a solemn promise to his Aunt Meadow not 
 to engage at fisticuffs under any circumstances. 
 
 He was a good runner for his age; but he lacked 
 the speed of his older and longer-legged pursuer. 
 Although he had obtained a start of some twenty-five 
 or thirty feet, he perceived presently that he was los- 
 ing ground rapidly. For all that the serenity habit- 
 ual to his chubby face did not diminish one whit; 
 and as he turned his head from time to time to make 
 a reconnoissance, his expression was as tranquil as 
 though he were racing for amusement. 
 
 The scene was an interesting one. Tom was fol- 
 lowed by Harry and Willie, while Green was cheered 
 on by his three cronies, who were also hot in pur- 
 suit. 
 
 Before Tom had got clear of the " Blue-grass " 
 trees, he saw that he was sure of being captured, un- 
 less he could introduce some new feature into his 
 flight. His invention did not fail him. Suddenly 
 he wheeled sharply, and, assisted by a tree which he
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 69 
 
 caught hold of, turned at a right angle to his former 
 line of retreat. 
 
 In nimbleness Green could not compare with Tom; 
 and so, before he could adjust himself to the change, 
 our hero obtained a new lease of flight. All were 
 now speeding towards the line of low bluffs which 
 fronted the" Blue-grass," and divided it off from the 
 prairie land beyond. 
 
 But it seemed quite evident that Tom could not 
 hold out long enough to gain the bluffs. 
 
 Nearer and nearer panted Green. " He was com- 
 ing along in short pants," Harry Quip subsequently 
 remarked to some of his schoolmates; who roused 
 his indignation and cut short his narrative with their 
 laughter over his remarkable bull in his case, orig- 
 inal. Well nearer and nearer came the pursuer. 
 The interval between the two was scarcely twelve 
 feet. 
 
 "You're gone, Tom!" cried Harry. 
 
 "It's no use," added Willie Ruthers, as he ceased 
 running, "you can't get away." 
 
 Tom was now within twenty yards of the bluff, 
 while his pursuer was but six or seven feet behind. 
 Suddenly Tom came to a full stop, turned, and as 
 his pursuer shot on, whisked aside, and put out his 
 foot. 
 
 Green took the foot offered him, and went right on, 
 not as a runner, but more after the manner of a fly- 
 ing squirrel. He came down all-fours on a soft bank 
 of earth, and in no wise injured picked himself up. 
 
 But before he was well on his feet, Harry Quip 
 had come to the rescue with a suggestion. 
 
 "Tom, Tom!" he cried, running, as he spoke, at an 
 angle toward the bluff, " run this way for all you're
 
 70 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 worth. We're near Keenan's cave; and if we can 
 make it, we'll bar them out." 
 
 Long before Harry had ceased speaking, Tom was 
 making for this prospective sanctuary. The cave in 
 question was fronted by a rough, clumsy, wooden 
 structure, in general appearance not unlike a storm- 
 door. 
 
 Tom's eyes grew brighter. He felt sure of him- 
 self now. Once within the cave, Harry, Willie, and 
 himself might bid defiance to all outside. 
 
 Nearer and nearer loomed the cave; one hundred 
 and fifty feet more, and all was well. Green was 
 far behind, and was not running as at first. 
 
 But alas! as Tom with his eyes fixed on the refuge 
 was making bravely on, he struck his foot against a 
 stone and fell violently to the ground. It was an 
 ugly fall. But Green did not pause to make any in- 
 quiries. Throwing himself upon Tom, he proceeded 
 to strike him blow after blow upon the partially up- 
 turned face. 
 
 In falling, Tom had incurred an ugly cut on the 
 head. The pain was intense; more than enough to 
 bear without the savage attacks of Green. 
 
 " Give up will you ?" roared the young savage. 
 
 " Give up what ?" groaned Tom, who, dizzy and 
 weak and suffering as he was, could not take his 
 tormentor seriously. 
 
 The bully continued his brutal work. Tom's con- 
 dition was becoming serious. Harry and Willie, 
 who had attempted to come to his assistance, were 
 forcibly held back by Pitch and his companions. 
 
 "Now will you give up?" asked Green, again 
 pausing. 
 
 Tom felt that he was fainting; lights flickered be-
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 71 
 
 fore his eyes, strange noises rang in his ears; for 
 all that he had no idea of " giving up. " Summoning 
 all his strength, he said, almost in his natural tones: 
 
 "I think you asked me that before." 
 
 "Well, I'll punch you so's you wont know your- 
 self next time " 
 
 Green never finished his speech; a vigorous jerk 
 at this juncture brought his jaws together with a 
 snap, and sent him to grass with almost lightning- 
 like rapidity. 
 
 George Keenan stood over him. But even when 
 released, Tom made no move; he had fainted. 
 
 " Quip !" cried Keenan, " run over to our cave and 
 get some water quick ! Look at that, you low-lived 
 bully," he continued, addressing Green. "Do you 
 see what you've done?" And as George spoke he 
 seized the terrified boy by the collar, and shook him 
 with the energy of boiling indignation. 
 
 " He wouldn't give up," howled Green. 
 
 " Ugh!" growled George, casting an anxious look 
 at the pallid face of Tom. " If I had nothing better 
 to do, I'd be glad to spend my life in shaking you 
 up. That's it, Harry," he continued, as Quip with 
 a jug of water bent over Tom, " throw it over his 
 face; he'll be all right in a moment." 
 
 George seemed to be quite absent-minded. With 
 his eyes fixed anxiously on Tom, his hands and arms 
 were working to and fro with such energy that it was 
 impossible to say where Green's head was at any 
 given moment. 
 
 He made no pause even, when, a second later, 
 Tom's face twitched. 
 
 "Hurrah! he's comin' to!" cried Willie Ruthers, 
 who had just thrown open Tom's collar.
 
 72 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 Willie was right. Tom opened his eyes; then with 
 an effort raised himself on his arm. He gazed about 
 him in a dazed manner, till his eyes fixed upon the 
 tear-stained face of Harry Quip. He brightened at 
 once, put his hand in his pocket, and said: 
 
 " Here, Harry, take some candy." And Tom arose, 
 feeble but smiling. 
 
 "Green," said George, "before I let you go, you 
 must beg this boy's pardon." 
 
 "I'll not." 
 
 " You wont eh ?" and George annotated this re- 
 mark with a shake. 
 
 "Ow! stop! Yes! I beg your pardon." 
 
 "Much obliged," said Tom seriously. 
 
 " Now," continued George, "I want you to prom- 
 ise me not to interfere with smaller boys. Do you 
 hear? We want no bullies this year." 
 
 "Oh yes!" cried Green, now shaken into a ball. 
 " I promise, upon my word. Oh, George, please let 
 me go. " 
 
 George acceded to this earnest request, and Green 
 hastened away to rejoin his friends, who, at the first 
 approach of danger, had fled. 
 
 Morally speaking, Tom had won the fight. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM USURPS MINOR ORDERS WITH STARTLING 
 RESUL TS. 
 
 ONE Sunday morning toward the end of Septemv 
 ber, the president preached a sermon to the 
 students, taking for his subject our Lord's casting 
 gut of the devils. He proceeded to show how the
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 73 
 
 Church has established certain forms of prayer, called 
 exorcism, for the casting out of unclean spirits; and 
 he dwelt at some lengthen the pitiable condition of 
 a soul possessed by the evil one. 
 
 Then, turning to the allegorical side of the sub- 
 ject, he declared that perhaps there were in that very 
 students' chapel some who were in the toils of Satan; 
 some who were profane, impure, unjust; some who 
 had blackened their souls with mortal sin, and driven 
 out the Holy Spirit from His proper temple. 
 
 So engaging was the style, so impressive the man- 
 ner of the speaker, that all listened with eager atten- 
 tion. But no one was more interested than Tom 
 Playfair. That young gentleman, it must be con- 
 fessed, had scarcely ever heard a sermon during the 
 decade of years that summed up his life. What lit- 
 tle knowledge he had of his religion had been gleaned 
 from an occasional flash of attention to his aunt's ex- 
 hortations. Hence it is not surprising that Tom did 
 not fully take in the speaker's remarks; it is not 
 surprising that he confounded fact with fancy, the 
 literal with the figurative. 
 
 Mass over, Tom remained in the chapel, and pro- 
 ceeded to make a careful examination of all the 
 prayer-books scattered about on the benches. At 
 length the gratified expression which came upon his 
 countenance evinced that he had found what he de- 
 sired. Gravely seating himself, he read and pon- 
 dered, pondered and read. Finally seeming to be 
 satisfied with his researches, he closed the book and 
 hurried away to the yard, where he at once sought 
 out his three confidants, Harry, Willie, and Joe. 
 
 " I say," began Tom, " take some candy." Candy 
 was Tom's pipe of peace. All accepted the peace-
 
 74 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 offering, whereupon the young chief unfolded his 
 ideas in the following conversation: 
 
 "I say, did you fellows mind what the president 
 said at Mass?" 
 
 "Yes; what about it?" inquired Harry. 
 
 "Why, just this, one of the boys in this yard is 
 possessed by the devil." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed all in a breath. 
 
 "That is just what," returned Tom, in a decided 
 manner. " Didn't he say that any one who curses 
 and acts vile is possessed by the devil ?" 
 
 " That's SQ," assented Willie. 
 
 " Now, boys, I ask you what fellow in the yard 
 is it who curses and talks vile?" 
 
 "John Green," put in Harry. 
 
 "John Green," echoed Willie. 
 
 "Just so," added Joe. 
 
 "Well, now," resumed Tom, "I've been looking 
 this thing up, and I guess we must what's that 
 word the President used ?" 
 
 "Exercise," suggested Willie. 
 
 "That's just it; we must exercise him." 
 
 " Chase him round the yard or something of that 
 sort," said Joe, imparting to his voice a tone half of 
 suggestion, and half of inquiry. 
 
 Tom rewarded this remark with a glance which 
 ws almost severe. 
 
 "Joe," he said, reproachfully, "exercise is some- 
 thing religious, and you oughtn't to talk that way. 
 To exercise means to drive the devil out, and that's 
 what we're going to do for Green." 
 
 " But seems to me," observed Harry, the best theo- 
 logian of these youths, " we ought to get a priest to 
 do it."
 
 TOM PLAY FAIR. 75 
 
 "I've thought of that, too," answered Tom, with 
 an impress! veness which carried confidence. " But 
 you see here's the trouble; no fellow likes to give 
 another fellow away. And if we told a priest, we'd 
 have to say all the bad things we know about Green. 
 Anyhow, we can try our hands first, and if our pray- 
 ing don't do good, we can get a priest at it." 
 
 Strangely enough, these three boys began to look 
 upon Tom's proposition in a serious light. Our hero 
 had a boyish eloquence which persuaded where it did 
 not prove. Had any other student of the yard made 
 this proposal, Harry Quip would have laughed him 
 into silence; but Tom was a born leader. 
 
 " Well, how are we to go about it ?" inquired Willie. 
 
 "I'll tell you," answered Tom. "Fasting and 
 prayers is what does it." 
 
 "Fasting?" echoed Joe. 
 
 "Yes; we must go without supper to-night." 
 
 The members of the little band looked at each 
 other doubtfully. 
 
 "It's got to be done," said Tom, with decision. 
 "I read about it in a prayer-book." 
 
 " And what else ?" asked Harry. 
 
 "Then we've got to pray over him." 
 
 The prospect of these duties was inducing a feeling 
 of awe upon all. 
 
 "What will we say, Tom?" whispered Willie. 
 
 " That's just the trouble; it's got to be in Latin, 
 'cause I saw in the prayer-book a lot of Latin prayers 
 they use for exercising." 
 
 "Whew!" exclaimed Harry. "We can't get over 
 that." 
 
 " Yes, we can, " said the ever-ready Ton>. " There's 
 a lot of Latin hymns at the end of my prayer-book,
 
 76 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 and I'll practise saying them during the day. Then, 
 when I read them out loud, all you fellows need do 
 is to answer, ''Amen.'" 
 
 "We can do that easy enough," assented Harry. 
 " But when is all this to come off?" 
 
 "That's another thing I've settled," Tom made 
 answer. " At twelve o'clock to-night. You needn't 
 look so scared. I'll keep awake till twelve, and 
 then I'll call you fellows. You see, we must pray 
 over him; and when he is lying in bed, we can do it 
 as easy as not. I'll stand at his head reading the 
 verses, and you three be ready to grab him, if he 
 wakes, so as to make him behave while he's getting 
 exercised." 
 
 " Oh, Tom !" suddenly exclaimed the ingenious Joe. 
 " How can you read at twelve o'clock without a 
 light?" 
 
 For the first time during the proceedings Tom was 
 nonplussed. The question of illumination had not 
 occurred to him. 
 
 " Gracious! I didn't think of that. Let's all try 
 and get up some scheme." 
 
 "Halloa! I'll tell you what!" cried Harry tri- 
 umphantly, breaking in upon the silence which had 
 ensued: "we can get some candlesticks out of the 
 sacristy." 
 
 "You're a jewel, Harry!" exclaimed Tom, enthusi- 
 astically. "That'll make it more religious-like, 
 still." 
 
 "What's the matter with a few surplices?" asked 
 Willie. 
 
 "I don't know," mused Tom. "Do you think it 
 would make the thing more piouser?" 
 
 "Of course," rejoined Harry.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 77 
 
 "Then we'll get surplices, too; and, Harry, I'll. 
 leave all that to you, because you know more about 
 the sacristy than I do. Get 'em at last recess to- 
 night. Hide the candlesticks behind the door going 
 up to the dormitory. Each boy can keep his surplice 
 under his pillow. Now, don't speak about this affair, 
 and we'll put it through in style." 
 
 At supper that evening four little boys took noth- 
 ing; and before retiring Harry procured candles and 
 surplices, and bestowed them according to direc- 
 tions. 
 
 As Tom slipped into bed he felt confident of suc- 
 cess. Indeed, he found less difficulty in keeping 
 awake than might have been expected. With his 
 eyes fixed on the presiding prefect, Mr. Middleton, 
 he watched anxiously to see him retire. But Mr. 
 Middleton sat at his desk, calmly reading, till a cold 
 perspiration came upon Tom, who feared the prefect 
 might stay up all night. Finally, to Tom's great 
 relief, the prefect arose and set about preparing for 
 bed; but before retiring he knelt beside his bed, and 
 kept this position for an interminably long time, as 
 it seemed to Tom. 
 
 "Pshaw," growled the impatient sentinel; "this 
 isn't the time to pray. He ought to do that when 
 the boys are awake instead of watching 'em." 
 
 At length Mr. Middleton did go to bed, and there 
 was silence for an hour. Then arose Tom, donned 
 his garments, and, tiptoeing from bed to bed, aroused 
 his fellow-conspirators. 
 
 All dressed, they stole noiselessly out of the 
 dormitory. Presently a solemn procession enters. 
 Tom, surpliced, and with prayer-book, at the head, 
 followed by his three friends, each bearing a lighted
 
 7& TOM PLA YFA1R. 
 
 candle. Solemn and silent they range themselves 
 round the bed of the unconscious victim. 
 
 "Don't touch him," whispered Tom, "unless he 
 wakes. But if he does, grab him, and hold him 
 down till I'm done expelling the devil out." 
 
 "What if he shouts?" asked Joe. 
 
 "He wont shout," said Harry; "I'll see that he's 
 quiet." 
 
 " Very well, " said Tom. " Now, are you all ready ?" 
 
 General assent. 
 
 "All right; here goes: 
 
 ' Dies irse, dies ilia, 
 Solvet sasclum in favilla, 
 Teste David cum Sibylla.' " 
 
 Here Tom looked up from his book. General 
 silence. 
 
 "Answer, will you it's the end of the verse." 
 
 "A men," came the solemn answer. The sleep- 
 ing innocent did not appear to be affected in the 
 least. 
 
 Tom went on : 
 
 ' ' ' Quantus tremor est futurus, 
 Quando Judex est venturus, 
 Cuncta stricte discussurus.' " 
 
 "Amen," was the prompt response. Green moved 
 uneasily, and gave a groan. 
 
 "Go on, Tom, it's fetching him," observed Harry 
 gravely. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Joe, "maybe it's the devil coming 
 out. Do you think he'll hurt us?" 
 
 "Not if we behave properly," said Tom, though 
 he paled a little. " Come on, now. Here's one 
 that's got a sound to it:
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 79 
 
 4 Tuba mirum spargens sonum 
 Per sepulchra regionum 
 Coget omnes ante thronum.' " 
 
 *' Amen. " 
 
 Green moved and groaned again. 
 
 "Grab him boys; he's waking!" exclaimed Tom. 
 
 As Green opened his eyes to find himself in the 
 clutches of four white-robed figures, his terror knew 
 no bounds. "What's the matter?" he gasped. "Am 
 I dead ?" 
 
 "No; but you will be," answered Tom, "if you 
 don't lie still. Keep quiet, you goose, while you 
 are being exercised." 
 
 Green's terror, now that he came to appreciate the 
 situation, fast gave way to rage. He attempted to 
 cry out, whereupon Harry Quip promptly stuffed a 
 towel into his mouth. Green was a strong lad ; and 
 he made violent struggles to escape from the grasp 
 of his persecutors. But his efforts seemed to be 
 unavailing. 
 
 Suddenly there was a great crash. The bed had 
 come to pieces. Panic stricken, Joe, Harry, and 
 "Willie rushed from the dormitory. Quick as thought, 
 Tom extinguished the lighted candles, which the 
 deserters had left on the field, and with a skip and a 
 bound tucked himself snugly in his bed. 
 
 Nor was he too quick. Mr. Middleton, oncoming 
 to the scene of action, found Green standing beside 
 his dismantled bed, looking the embodiment of guilt. 
 
 " Take that vacant bed over there, Green, and we'll 
 settle this matter in the morning." 
 
 " But, sir " remonstrated the innocent victim 
 "but, sir" 
 
 "That'll do now; go to bed."
 
 8o TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 And Mr. Middleton, glancing about the dormitory, 
 took down the names of the absentees. 
 
 Next morning Tom confessed the whole affair, 
 taking all the blame upon his own shoulders. Mr. 
 Middleton was secretly amused at Tom's ideas of 
 diabolical possession; none the less, he kept that 
 young gentleman very busy for some time commit- 
 ting lines to memory; and with this exercise termi- 
 nated Tom's career as an exorcist. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM GETS INTO MANY DIFFICULTIES, AND 
 HOLDS AN ASTONISHING INTERVIEW WITH MR. 
 MIDDLETON. 
 
 TOM'S first five or six weeks at St. Maure's, like 
 the course of true love in fable and history, did 
 not run smooth. His troubles, some of which we 
 have narrated, were not confined to the yard alone. 
 They followed him into the class-room. 
 
 Tom thought, like many other students, that he 
 would pick up the class matter by easy studying. 
 But on this point his professor did not agree with 
 him. 
 
 It must be confessed, too, that Tom was at times 
 overbold in his manner of deporting himself in the 
 class-room. 
 
 On one occasion, Mr. Middleton put himself to 
 touch trouble to explain a long and complicated sum 
 in fractions. He went over the problem step by step 
 in such wise that no one not absolutely feather- 
 brained could fail of following the process. Mr.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 8 1 
 
 Middleton was the soul of earnestness in teaching; 
 and so at the end of half an hour's explanation he was 
 covered with chalk, while beads of perspiration it 
 was by no means a warm day stood out upon his 
 brow. 
 
 " Now, boys," he said, turning full upon the class, 
 " do you understand it all ?" The head of each and 
 every boy nodded assent. Suddenly a hand went up. 
 It was Tom's. 
 
 "Well, Playfair?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Tom soberly. 
 
 Mr. Middleton was puzzled. 
 
 " What do you mean, Playfair ?" 
 
 "I understand it, sir." 
 
 Mr. Middleton smiled; there was a slight titter 
 among the more thoughtless boys; yet somehow Tom 
 felt that he was out of order; he was sensible in a 
 dim way that Mr. Middleton's smile carried a reproof 
 with it. But the words had been spoken, and were 
 beyond recall. 
 
 A day or two later, Mr. Middleton was hearing 
 recitations. Alexander Jones was called upon to 
 answer some questions on the geography of Vermont. 
 
 " What is the nature of the land, Jones ?" asked 
 Mr. Middleton in a kindly manner. 
 
 Jones arose, one quivering bundle of nerves, his 
 eyebrows twitching, his knees bending under him, his 
 lips quivering, and his fingers in a fury of motion. 
 He grew intensely pale and gave several gasps. 
 
 Mr. Middleton, with a few encouraging words, 
 repeated the question. 
 
 "It's a con-continent," gasped Jones. 
 
 "I'm afraid you didn't catch my question," said 
 Mr. Middleton. " Now don't be afraid. I'm sure 
 6
 
 8* TOM PLAYPAIR. 
 
 you know it. Listen ; what is the nature of the land ? 
 Is it rocky, or mountainous, or sandy, or what ? 
 
 Poor Jones gasped again, but gave no answer. 
 Here Tom (who knew nothing about the lesson) came 
 bravely to the rescue. He was seated just behind 
 Jones. 
 
 " It's mountainous," he whispered. 
 
 "It's m mountainous," Jones stammered. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Middleton, as if expecting more. 
 
 "Go on," growled Tom, "and tell him it's 
 rocky." 
 
 "It's rocky," repeated Jones. 
 
 But even this answer did not seem to satisfy Mr. 
 Middleton. 
 
 "Tell him it's sandy," continued the prompter. 
 
 "It's it's sandy." 
 
 But Mr. Middleton, for some unknown reason, 
 failed to come to the rescue of the hapless boy. He 
 still waited. 
 
 " Hang it," growled Tom, unwittingly speaking so 
 loud as to be heard by the professor and the entire 
 class, " tell him it's very mountainous, very rocky, 
 and very sandy." 
 
 " It's very mountainous, very rocky, and very 
 sandy," blurted forth Jones, and as a burst of laughter 
 saluted his remark he sank back into his seat misera- 
 bly conscious that he had cut a very ridiculous figure. 
 
 " Playfair, after class," said Mr. Middleton sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 "I didn't do anything," exclaimed Tom with vir- 
 tuous indignation. 
 
 But the professor very wisely ignored this dis- 
 claimer, and continued the recitation. 
 
 In consequence, then, of bad conduct and faulty
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 83 
 
 recitations, it was not an uncommon sight after class 
 to see our little friend, book in hand, patrolling the 
 yard, endeavoring to make up at the eleventh hour 
 what he had failed in at the first. And so, naturally 
 enough, Tom came gradually to imbibe a disgust for 
 study and class-work, which in the course of three 
 or four weeks culminated in an almost entire neglect 
 of studies. Tom felt in his heart that he was acting 
 wrong; but he was a thoughtless boy, and his sense 
 of responsibility was but poorly developed. Yet he 
 realized with growing unhappiness that, should he 
 continue in his present courses, he would soon be at 
 the foot of the class. 
 
 Mr. Middleton, indeed, had no trouble in divining 
 the state of Tom's mind; but he resolved to wait till 
 some favorable opportunity should present itself for 
 turning the pupil from his ill-chosen path. The op- 
 portunity soon came. An incident in the yard brought 
 it about. 
 
 It was a gloomy morning in early autumn. Tom 
 was straggling along moodily from the refectory 
 towards the yard, when he perceived lying upon the 
 ground two ready-made cigarettes, dropped, probably, 
 by one of the senior students in the rush and shock 
 of a game of foot-ball. Quickly picking them up, 
 he hurried to his yard and sought Harry Quip. Tom 
 was rather out of spirits on this morning he was 
 totally unprepared in lessons, and he looked forward 
 with unpleasant feelings to the day's recitations. 
 There was unhappiness awaiting him in the line of 
 duty. He would seek happiness in the line of 
 mischief. 
 
 He found Harry without difficulty, and drew him 
 aside.
 
 I 
 
 84 TOM PLAYFA1R. 
 
 "Look here, Harry," and Tom produced the two 
 cigarettes, "what do you say to a smoke?" 
 
 " Halloa ! what's up now ?" Harry exclaimed. " On 
 the road here you told me you didn't care about 
 smoking, and I liked what you said first-rate." 
 
 "Yes; but just for fun," pleaded Tom. 
 
 Harry placed his hand affectionately on Tom's 
 shoulder, and with his honest face and eyes beaming 
 earnestness, said: 
 
 " Tom, old fellow, I'm afraid you're going wrong 
 just a little bit, you know. Of course there's 
 nothing bad about smoking but but well, I aint 
 no philosopher, but it's so anyhow." 
 
 This speech was incoherent enough. Harry had 
 endeavored to tell the truth and at the same time 
 spare the feelings of his " partner. " But honest words 
 are more than grammar and rhetoric; and long, long 
 after, the sympathetic face and kindly voice of Harry 
 haunted Tom, and helped him in the path of duty. 
 
 But at the moment he was in no mood to be softened. 
 He added in extenuation: 
 
 "You see, Harry, I've got to do something or I'll 
 die. Come on and take a few puffs." 
 
 "Nixie," responded Harry, shaking his head and 
 grinning, "and I tell you what, Tom, don't you get 
 in with the smokers on the sly. It doesn't pay." 
 
 Seeing Harry's determination to behave well, Tom 
 respected it; and forthwith sought in his stead an 
 old and tried smoker, John Pitch. 
 
 " You're just the fellow I wanted to see !" exclaimed 
 John Pitch enthusiastically, when Tom had made his 
 proposition. "You see the old church-building? 
 Come on over to that corner between the walls of the 
 hand-ball alley. It's a safe place now. Mr. Middle-
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 85 
 
 ton is taking his breakfast, and Mr. Phelan has to 
 stay in the playroom and I've got any amount of 
 matches." 
 
 " Now," resumed Johnny a few seconds later, when 
 they had nestled close together in the corner, " unless 
 you want to get caught, don't blow your smoke out 
 ahead of you, so's it can be seen. Every time you 
 take a puff, turn your head round this way, and blow 
 it here right through this chink into the old church. 
 It's a great trick; I found it out myself." 
 
 Tom gave audible approbation to this advice, and 
 proceeded to carry it out to the letter; and for some 
 minutes the two smoked in silence. 
 
 "Isn't it immense?" John at length inquired. 
 
 " Isn't it though ?" answered Tom, repressing a 
 cough. 
 
 "Say," resumed John, a moment later, "can you 
 make the smoke come out of your nose ?" 
 
 "Oh! that's nothing," responded Tom; and he 
 executed the required feat. 
 
 "You can't inhale can you?" pursued John. 
 
 "Of course I can, if I want to; but I don't care 
 much about it." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you what you can't do; you can't 
 talk with smoke inside of you and then blow it out 
 after you're through talking." 
 
 " Neither can you." 
 
 "I" 11 bet lean." 
 
 "Let's see you do it, then!" exclaimed Tom with 
 increasing animation. 
 
 In answer to this, John gravely inhaled a mouth- 
 ful of smoke; then said: 
 
 "See! that's the way to do the thing," and blew 
 it forth.
 
 86 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Gracious, out that's immense. I want to leant 
 that trick too; let's see you do it again." 
 
 Both were now absorbed Tom, cigarette in hand, 
 intently eyeing John; and John, cigarette in mouth, 
 determined to heighten his disciple's admiration. 
 
 John now took two or three vigorous puffs, then 
 inhaled the triple instalment. 
 
 Just at this most interesting juncture, Tom's quick 
 ear caught the sound of approaching footsteps. 
 
 "Cave, look out," he whispered, and as he spoke 
 he dropped his cigarette by his side and crushed it 
 under his foot. 
 
 But John was not so quick, his lungs were still 
 filled with smoke, and his cigarette was still in his 
 hand, as Mr. Middleton, the terror of smokers, turned 
 the corner. But the young rogue was not without 
 resource; he and his companion, as has been said, 
 were nestled together, and the open pocket in Tom's 
 sailor-jacket was convenient to the hand in which 
 John was holding the cigarette. There was no re- 
 sisting the temptation. Deftly, quietly, he dropped 
 the burning cigarette into the yawning pocket. Un- 
 conscious of this, Tom, with his eyes full upon Mr. 
 Middleton, was inwardly congratulating himself upon 
 his lucky escape. Not so John. Although free of 
 the tell-tale cigarette, it could hardly be said that he 
 was in a happy frame of mind. The smoke within 
 him imperatively demanded an outlet; and there 
 stood Mr. Middleton, confronting him with the evi- 
 dent intention of opening a conversation. 
 
 "Good morning, boys," the prefect began. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Middleton," answered Tom, 
 who, aware of John's predicament, was resolved to 
 do the talking for both.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 87 
 
 "There's a strange smell about here," continued 
 the prefect, with a peculiar smiie. 
 
 "Yes, sir, there is," returned Tom gravely. "I 
 wonder if there arn't some skunks in this old build- 
 ing. Some of the old fellows says there are." 
 
 " I hardly think it a skunk. But what's the mat- 
 ter with you, Johnny? are you ill?" 
 
 The question was pertinent. John was now in a 
 partial state of suffocation, his eyes were bulging 
 out of his head, his mouth was closed tight, and his 
 cheeks were puffed out as though he were a cornet- 
 player executing a high and difficult note. 
 
 It is superfluous to add, then, that John returned 
 no answer. Tom made an awkward attempt to divert 
 Mr. Middleton's attention. A number of boys had 
 just issued from the play-room; Tom made the most 
 of it. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Middleton, what's that crowd of boys 
 outside the play-room up to? Looks as if there's 
 going to be a fight or something." 
 
 "Johnny, you must tell me what ails you;" and 
 Mr. Middleton, regardless of Tom's eager remark, 
 fixed his penetrating eyes on John. 
 
 A moment of painful silence followed. 
 
 One moment and the victim of asphyxiation could 
 hold in no longer a gasp and a choke, and out came 
 the smoke. 
 
 "Dear me! you appear to be on fire inside," 
 remarked the prefect. 
 
 " I guess you're pretty sick, Johnny," put in Tom, 
 becoming bolder under stress of desperation. "Any- 
 how I hope it aint catching. I've been sitting 
 alongside of " 
 
 He finished this interesting address with a shriek
 
 88 TOM PLA YFAIJR. 
 
 of pain, as he suddenly jumped to his feet and clapped 
 both hands to his bosom smoke was streaming from 
 his pocket. 
 
 "It looks as if it was catching," remarked Mr. 
 Middleton. "You are on fire outside." 
 
 With some rubbing and slapping accompanied 
 by a round of hopping and wriggling Tom saved 
 his jacket pocket from utter destruction; then as he 
 grew calmer he threw a reproachful eye upon John. 
 
 With a smile the prefect walked away, leaving 
 them to conjecture the nature and extent of their 
 punishment. 
 
 During six o'clock studies that evening, Tom was 
 summoned to the room of Mr. Middleton. 
 
 "Well, Tom," began the prefect when the culprit 
 had presented himself, " how are you getting on ?" 
 
 Tom became lost in the contemplation of his feet. 
 
 "Take a seat," continued Mr. Middleton, indicat- 
 ing a chair. " I want to have a talk with you. Now, 
 my boy, "he resumed when Tom had seated himself, 
 " I have had a good chance to watch you in class and 
 in the yard, for some weeks, and I have come to the 
 conclusion that you are a very stubborn boy. Isn't 
 that so?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Tom mildly. 
 
 " You don't seem to mind anything I tell you. 
 Day after day, it's the same old story, bad lessons, 
 careless exercises, and then when I call you to ac- 
 count, your manner shows that you have little or no 
 intention of doing better. Do you deny that?" 
 
 "No, sir," answered Tom, beginning to feel very 
 uncomfortable and very wicked. 
 
 "And don't you think that a stubborn disposition 
 is a bad thing for a little boy ?"
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 89 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, I don't," said Mr. Middleton. 
 
 "You don't!" exclaimed Tom in surprise. 
 
 " Not entirely. Columbus, Washington, St. Francis 
 Xavier were in a sense stubborn men. Indeed, I think 
 all truly great men must have a fair share of stub- 
 bornness in their composition. ' 
 
 Tom's face betrayed no less astonishment than 
 interest. 
 
 "Columbus," continued Mr. Middleton, "by stub- 
 bornly clinging to one idea in spite of rebuffs and 
 disappointment, discovered a new world. Washing- 
 ton in the face of most disheartening difficulties 
 difficulties from friends and from foes held to his 
 purpose, and created a nation. If Columbus had not 
 been stubborn he would have given in; and America 
 might have been undiscovered for years and years 
 after his death ; if Washington had been less stub- 
 born, perhaps our country might have never achieved 
 her freedom. Did you ever read the life of St. 
 Francis Xavier?" 
 
 "I don't read pious books very often, sir." 
 
 "Well, he was just such another man stubborn 
 as could be. When he was a young student nothing 
 would satisfy him but to become a great philosopher. 
 So he studied away, week after week, year after year, 
 till he became one of the learned doctors of his age. 
 Then when St. Ignatius converted him, he became 
 just as stubborn in converting souls to God, as he 
 had before been stubborn in acquiring philosophy. 
 Nothing could divert him from his new work. Labor, 
 pain, hunger, abandonment of home and friends all 
 were bravely endured to this end ; and Francis Xavier 
 became the great apostle of modern times."
 
 go TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Well, it seems to me, Mr. Middleton, that if stub- 
 bornness were a good thing, it wouldn't make a boy 
 act wrong." 
 
 "Oh, it may," answered Mr. Middleton with a 
 smile, " if it be misused. Isn't bread a good thing ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " But it wouldn't be good if you were to pave the 
 streets with it. Stubbornness is good too, but only 
 when used the right way. Stubbornness is merely 
 the sign of a strong will a strong determination. 
 If you exert your stubborn strength of will to doing 
 what is good, you are all the better and nobler for 
 your stubbornness. But if you exert it for a bad 
 purpose, then you are so much the worse. And what 
 a pity it is that boys misuse so good a gift of God! 
 Why, my dear boy, I have known not a few college 
 students who bent all their energies to getting off 
 their lessons without being punished, and who with 
 the same energy might have acquired such an educa- 
 tion as would have reflected honor on themselves. 
 And you too, Tom, must guard against misapplying 
 this energy, this determination, this perseverance, 
 this stubbornness you see it has many names to 
 wrong purposes. It is a gift to you from God Him- 
 self; and you must show your gratitude by using the 
 gift aright. Do you remember when Green attacked 
 you, how steadfastly you bore his blows till you 
 fainted?" 
 
 " I guess I do. " 
 
 "You were determined not to give in. Now take 
 your lessons the same way. Don't let trouble, weari- 
 ness, memory- work scare you; just hold on tight to 
 your lessons. Never give in or yield to them; make 
 them yield to you. Then, indeed, you will see that
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 01 
 
 your stubbornness is a gift of the good God. By 
 the way, you intend making your First Communion 
 this year, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; I'm awful anxious to make it. I'm 
 going on eleven, sir," here the boy's lips quivered, 
 and he caught his breath "and and well, when- 
 ever I think of Holy Communion, I eh think of 
 my mamma, sir. She died when I was only seven. 
 But I remember how she was always speaking to me 
 about my making a good First Communion." 
 
 Whilst speaking these words, Tom repeatedly 
 shifted from one foot to the other. This was his 
 expression of strong emotion. And he had reason 
 to be affected. For, as he spoke, the sweet, pure 
 face of his departed mother came back vividly to 
 his memory, and while her deep, dark, tender eyes 
 kindled into love, her lips moved in a last prayer 
 for the weeping child whom she strained in a dying 
 clasp to her bosom; moved in a prayer that Mary 
 the Virgin Mother might guide the ways of her dar- 
 ling son. Then the strain relaxed, the sweet eyes 
 closed, a shadow seemed to pass over the pallid face, 
 and, as he covered the stilled features with kisses, he 
 knew that his mamma was with God. Poor mother- 
 less boy ! 
 
 Mr. Middleton was touched. From Tom's halting 
 words and shifting of position he had caught some 
 glimpse of the little lad's heart. 
 
 "In general," said the prefect quite gently, "a 
 boy is a great loser if his mamma dies before he 
 grows up. The reason often is that he forgets. But 
 you do not forget, Tom." 
 
 "Sometimes I do, Mr. Middleton; I've been for- 
 getting a heap more than I ought to."
 
 9 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Well, Tom, I have great confidence in you." 
 
 Mr. Middleton said these words in a tone so im- 
 pressive, so earnest, that Tom felt more and more 
 humbled. 
 
 "I haven't done anything to deserve it, sir." 
 
 u But you will do much to deserve it, or I am 
 sadly mistaken in you. Now, I'm going to tell you 
 a secret, Tom; but mind you keep it to yourself. 
 Three weeks ago, I received a letter from your father 
 in which he asked me to give him a report of you." 
 
 Tom's cheeks lost their color. 
 
 " He said that you had given much trouble at 
 home, that you seemed to be very thoughtless even 
 for your age, and that he doubted strongly about 
 your fitness to make your First Communion this 
 year." 
 
 Tom caught his breath. 
 
 " And he added that, unless I could assure him that 
 you were giving perfect satisfaction, he would defer 
 your First Communion till you were twelve." 
 
 The listener turned away his face and gazed 
 through the open window. 
 
 " I answered your father's letter half an hour 
 ago." 
 
 "O! I'm a goner, then." Tom's expression was 
 really pathetic. 
 
 " Listen to what I've sent him. 
 
 DEAR MR. PLAYFAIR : 
 
 In regard to your son's conduct, it is too early in the year to 
 say anything definite. But from the data already afforded me 
 by what I have seen of him in the class-room and in the play- 
 ground, I feel quite certain that he will develop into a thoroughly 
 good and noble boy, 
 
 Yours sincerely in Xt., 
 
 FRANCIS MIDDLETON, S. J.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 93 
 
 Tom's lips quivered, and a softness came into his 
 dark eyes ; he made no attempt to speak. The firm^ 
 noble head bowed low. He could have fallen at 
 Mr. Middleton's feet. 
 
 " Now, Tom, I'm quite sure that I have not been 
 deceived in you. Perhaps I was over harsh with 
 you at first " 
 
 "No, you weren't. Hang it, "blurted forth Tom, 
 " if you'd kicked me once or twice, I'd feel better 
 now." 
 
 Mr. Middleton held out his hand; Tom caught it 
 in a fervent grasp. 
 
 " Now my boy, we will forget the past. Take a 
 walk in the yard for a while, and think over what I 
 have said. Then make your resolutions carefully, 
 and ask the blessing of the Sacred Heart." 
 
 Tom departed, carrying a new range of ideas in 
 his little brain; up and down the yard he paced, 
 buried in thought. The seed had fallen on good 
 ground. Finally, going to the chapel, he knelt for 
 a long time before the tabernacle and prayed with 
 all the earnestness of his soul, that he might turn 
 over a new leaf. Nor was his prayer unheard; from 
 that hour Tom became a more faithful student, a 
 more earnest Christian. 
 
 It was twelve of the night, when Harry Quip was 
 aroused from slumber by a hand which was shaking 
 him in no gentle manner. 
 
 On opening his eyes, he discerned by the dim light 
 of the dormitory lamp Tom Playfair. 
 
 "What's the matter, Tom?" 
 
 " I say, Harry, isn't Mr. Middleton a brick ?" 
 
 " Oh, go to bed," growled Harry, turning over and 
 burying his face in the pillow.
 
 04 TOM PLA YFAlR. 
 
 Tom complied with this sensible advice, and lay 
 awake for full three minutes, building golden visions 
 of the great day now assuredly near at hand. 
 
 Ah ! if he only knew what difficulties were to arise, 
 and under what tragic circumstances he was to make 
 his First Communion, I am quite sure that he would 
 have lain awake for at least six minutes. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM CONCLUDES THAT VINEGAR NEVEh 
 CATCHES FLIES. 
 
 FOR the ensuing two or three weeks the current 
 of events at college flowed on with scarcely a 
 ripple. Every day Tom seemed to gain new friends. 
 Indeed, with the exception of John Green, he had 
 not a single enemy among his playmates; and even 
 Green's enmity had grown less demonstrative. 
 
 As a fit preparation for his First Communion, 
 Tom had resolved to put himself at peace with the 
 whole world. He now regretted that he had made 
 a laughing-stock of Green on the occasion of their 
 first meeting; and he was on the alert to do some- 
 thing towards closing the breach between them. 
 
 A slight change in the routine of school-life gave 
 him the desired opportunity. 
 
 Towards the end of October, it was found neces- 
 sary to make some repairs in the western corner of 
 the small boys' dormitory. In consequence, seven- 
 teen of the students occupying beds in that part were 
 assigned temporary accommodations in the attic of 
 the main building, a structure towering high above 
 all its fellows.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 95 
 
 It was Wednesday afternoon when Mr. Middleton 
 announced the names of those who were to change 
 their sleeping quarters. Tom, Harry Quip, Alex- 
 ander Jones, John Pitch, Green, and others with 
 whom our story has not to do, composed this privi- 
 leged number. 
 
 To add a zest to the privilege, he allowed the 
 happy seventeen to explore their improved dormitory 
 immediately after class, and very quickly after class 
 the brick building resounded to the tramp of multi- 
 tudinous feet scampering nimbly up the stairs as 
 though on a mission of life and death. 
 
 "Whoop-la!" cried Tom, as he burst into the 
 great room, seamed and ribbed overhead with heavy 
 beams. " It's like the attic of a haunted house, 
 only bigger isn't it, Green?" 
 
 "It's an immense place for fun," responded his 
 companion. " Look at all the corners and hiding- 
 places. We can play 'I spy' here, 'it we don't feel 
 sleepy." 
 
 "Yes," assented Tom, "and at night we might 
 climb out on the roof and count the stars. Did you 
 ever count the stars, Johnny ?" 
 
 "Naw; did you?" 
 
 " I tried it one night at home, when I was lying in 
 bed and couldn't sleep. I got as far as fifty-seven, 
 and then I went off sound asleep. But there are 
 lots more than fifty-seven." 
 
 "I guess there's over a trillion," said Green 
 reflectively. 
 
 Both felt that their remarks had fairly exhausted 
 their astronomical researches. 
 
 " Come on, " said Tom, " let's get out on the roof. " 
 
 As he spoke, he pointed toward a ladder which led
 
 96 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 up to a cupola, rising some seven or eight feet above 
 the roof of the building. This cupola gave access 
 to the roof by means of a small door, which opened 
 at the side and was secured from within by a strong 
 bolt. 
 
 Followed by Tom, Green ran up the ladder, shot 
 back the bolt, and made his way upon the roof. 
 
 "I'd like to live on a roof," said Tom tranquilly, 
 as he walked over to the eastern verge, and gazed 
 down upon the yard below. 
 
 "Come back, you idiot," cried Green, in what he 
 considered his most persuasive accents, "you'll get 
 dizzy and keel over." 
 
 "I'll bet I wont," answered Tom. "Don't you 
 think I've ever been on a roof before? This one 
 isn't steep like ours, but it's a heap higher. I say, 
 how'd you like to stand on top of that lightning 
 rod?" and Tom motioned with his index finger 
 toward the tip of a rod, which rose above the 
 cupola. 
 
 Green ran over, caught hold of the rod and shook 
 it. 
 
 "I wouldn't like it at all, unless I wanted to break 
 my neck; it's loose. What'll you bet I can't pull 
 it down?" 
 
 "It isn't ours, Johnnie." 
 
 " I'd just as soon pull it down as not," continued 
 Green. Nevertheless, he relinquished his hold upon 
 it, and turned away. 
 
 Tom had occasion to remember this episode sub- 
 sequently, though at the moment both he and Green 
 dismissed the subject so lightly. 
 
 Some seven or eight others now found their way 
 to the roof, and the conversation, made up in great
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 97 
 
 part of "ohs" and "ahs," had become quite general 
 and very noisy, when Mr. Middleton appeared and 
 sternly ordered all down. 
 
 Tom and Green were the first to descend, followed 
 by the others in Indian file. The last to re-enter 
 shut the door behind him, but neglected to bolt it. 
 The omission passed unnoticed. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Middleton, " observed Tom solemnly, 
 "I thought you didn't believe in slang." 
 
 "Indeed! I wouldn't advise people to use it in 
 ordinary." 
 
 "Well, sir, you gave us bad example." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 "You told us to 'come off thereof, ' sir." 
 
 And satisfied with his little joke, Tom was about 
 to hurry away, when he was arrested by Mr. Middle- 
 ton's voice. 
 
 "Well, sir." 
 
 "You'll have to do penance for that joke, Tom. 
 I want four or five willing boys to bring over pil- 
 lows and bedding; the workmen will attend to the 
 beds and mattresses. You might get Quip and 
 Donnel to help you." 
 
 "All right, sir; that'll be fun." As Tom spoke, 
 he saw an eager look upon Green's face. " And I say, 
 Mr. Middleton," he added, " can't Johnny Green help 
 us? he's willing." 
 
 " Of course," was the cordial answer, accompanied 
 by a kindly look at Johnny. 
 
 Poor Green! there was a real, wholesome blush 
 upon his face as he blurted forth some disjointed 
 words of thanks. 
 
 "Well," commented Mr. Middleton to himself, as 
 the lads went pattering down the stairs, " that Play- 
 7
 
 $& TOM PLA^FAIR. 
 
 fair has unconsciously taught me another lesson. 1 
 mustn't forget to notice the hard cases now and then. 
 Unless I'm mistaken, Green will be in a better mood 
 for a week." 
 
 "He's a good fellow," Green observed, as they 
 were trotting across the yard. 
 
 "Isn't he?" said Tom. 
 
 " And so are you," added Green, growing very red 
 as he spoke. 
 
 Tom laughed ; he had succeeded. His only enemy 
 was won over. 
 
 Tom had brought a diary from home having made 
 a promise on receiving it to write something in it 
 every day. That night at studies, he opened it for 
 the first time, and made this his first entry. It hap- 
 pened to be the last also. 
 
 OCT. 3OTH. Since coming to college I have notised that vini- 
 ger never catches flys. To-day I am eleven years old. This 
 year I am going to make my First Communion. His name is 
 Green. I don't believe there is anything near a trillion stars. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM GIVES GREEN A BIT OF ADVICE, WHICH, 
 AIDED BY A STORM, IS NOT WITHOUT ITS EFFECT. 
 
 ON the afternoon of the following day, Tom, 
 Harry, and Alexander Jones were engaged in 
 an earnest consultation. 
 
 "I don't think he'd allow it," said Harry. 
 "What do you think, Alec?" asked Tom. 
 "I'd be afraid to ask," responded Alec. 
 "Well, he can't more than refuse, and I guess I 
 can stand that. Yes, fellows, I'm going to ask."
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. W 
 
 And without further ado, Tom walked over towards 
 Mr. Middleton, who was acting as umpire in a game 
 of hand-ball between Donnel and Keenan. 
 
 "Well, Tom," said the prefect, as he caught the 
 anxious eyes of our hero fixed upon him, " what do 
 you want ?" 
 
 "If you please, sir, I'd like permission to take a 
 walk with Harry Quip and Alec Jones." 
 
 "Certainly; you are all on the good conduct list. 
 Be back half an hour before supper." 
 
 "And, Mr. Middleton, can't Crazy that is, can't 
 Johnny Green come along with us?" 
 
 " He's not on the conduct list. You know the 
 rule." 
 
 "Yes, sir; but he hasn't had a chance to go out 
 since the first week of school." 
 
 " That's not a sufficient reason for his going out 
 now." 
 
 " But, Mr. Middleton, yesterday you told me you'd 
 make it all right with me for carrying over the bed- 
 clothes and things. Let Green come along, and I 
 can't ask for anything I'd like more. You know, 
 sir, we haven't been friends up to yesterday." And 
 Tom gazed at the prefect wistfully. 
 
 "Tom," answered Mr. Middleton, after a few 
 moments of consideration, " please tell Green that 
 I'm very glad to have an excuse for letting him out, 
 and that I hope he'll have all the privileges of the 
 conduct list next month." 
 
 "Thanks, Mr. Middleton; I know every word you 
 said just then by heart, and I'll tell it to him exactly 
 as you said it." And touching his cap Tom hurried 
 away. 
 
 " Say, Green, wont you take some candy ?" he in-
 
 160 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 quired of that young gentleman, whom he found 
 engaged in furtively carving his name on a corner 
 of the little boys' building. 
 
 Green closed his knife very promptly, and accepted 
 the candy with silent enthusiasm. 
 
 "How'd you like to take a walk, Green, with me 
 and Quip and Jones?" 
 
 "I'd like it well enough to walk with anybody," 
 came the rough answer. " But I'm not allowed out- 
 side this wretched yard." And Green went on to 
 express his injured feelings in a manner too realistic 
 for reproduction. 
 
 " You needn't swear about it anyhow," interrupted 
 Tom, "and besides, Mr. Middleton has given you 
 permission." 
 
 Green opened his eyes. 
 
 " What ?" he gaspeu. 
 
 Then Tom repeated Mr. Middleton's message. 
 
 "Just my luck," observed Green, gazing ruefully 
 at the letters he had cut. " If he sees those initials 
 I'll lose my conduct-card again. I can't behave, to 
 save myseit. " 
 
 Tom pulled out his own knife, and forthwith began 
 working upon Green's carving. 
 
 "There!" he said presently. "If anybody can 
 make J. G. out of that now he'll have to be pretty 
 smart. Come on, Johnnie, and we'll have a fine 
 walk." 
 
 Accordingly the four were soon outside the college 
 grounds, an event which Green celebrated by put- 
 ting a huge quid of tobacco into his mouth. 
 
 It was a gloomy afternoon. The morning had 
 opened with a black mass of clouds low down upon 
 the eastern horizon. With the progress of the day,
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. XOt 
 
 they had been accumulating and spreading west- 
 ward, growing thicker and blacker in their advance, 
 till nearly half of the firmament was now veiled 
 from the eye. 
 
 " That's an ugly sky," observed Harry. 
 
 "There's lots of wind in those clouds," added 
 Tom. It looks as though we'd have a big storm 
 to-night." 
 
 "So it does," assented Alec, who did little else 
 in ordinary conversation beyond contributing the 
 scriptural yea and nay. 
 
 " I aint afraid of storms," said Green. 
 
 "There's nothing wonderful about that," com, 
 mented Tom. "What would you be afraid for?" 
 
 "Some fellows get scared when they hear the 
 thunder," explained Green; "but I don't mind it 
 one bit." 
 
 "I do," said Alec. "When the thunder begins, 
 and I'm in bed, I always put my head under the 
 blankets and pray." 
 
 " That's 'cos you're a coward," said Green loftily. 
 "I don't fear going to bed in the dark nor nothin'." 
 
 "In other words," remarked Quip, with a solemn 
 roll of his big eyes, "you aren't afraid of any- 
 thing." 
 
 " Naw I aint afraid of nothing." 
 
 "You're not afraid to blow, that's sure," put in 
 Tom, in a matter-of-fact tone. "All the same, 
 Johnnie, I rather think you'd be scared if you knew 
 you had to die right off." 
 
 "I don't know about that," answered Green. "I 
 don't expect to go to heaven anyhow." 
 
 "You don't?" 
 
 " Naw; I gave up trying to be good long ago."
 
 103 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 " At least, you might try to make the nine First 
 Fridays that Father Nelson talked to us about in 
 the chapel," suggested Tom. 
 
 Green stared at him heavily. 
 
 "He said, you know," continued Tom, "that 
 there's a promise of grace to die well for any fellow 
 that makes 'em." 
 
 "I heard him; but once a month is too often for 
 me." 
 
 "Just think," added Harry Quip, "to-morrow's 
 the first Friday in November. Make a start, Crazy; 
 it wont hurt you to try." 
 
 "I guess I'll not begin yet," answered Green, as 
 he proceeded to roll a cigarette. 
 
 "It would please Mr. Middleton a heap," Tom 
 observed. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," put in Alec. 
 
 " And it would do you any amount of good," added 
 Tom. "Come on, Johnnie; you sneaked out of 
 going to communion last time the boys went. You 
 needn't stare; I had my eyes open, and I saw you 
 dodging. It's my opinion that you've been dodg- 
 ing ever since you came back to college." 
 
 "Say, you didn't tell on me, did you?" 
 
 "Not yet," answered Tom diplomatically he had 
 never entertained the idea of reporting Green to the 
 authorities; "and I wont mention it either. Now 
 you'll go to-morrow, wont you?" 
 
 There was a short silence. 
 
 "Yes," answered Green at length, and speaking 
 with an effort, "I'll go." 
 
 Making their way through the woods which girded 
 the river, they presently arrived at a clearing upon 
 the bank,
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 103 
 
 "Isn't it growing dark awful fast?" exclaimed 
 Harry. 
 
 "Just look at those clouds; they're beginning to 
 move faster and faster; and they're coming our 
 way too," cried Tom. 
 
 "Let's run home," suggested Green. 
 
 Borne on the wings of the storm, the dark masses 
 in the east were advancing gloomily, rapidly, like a 
 marshalled army. The wind which carried them on 
 could be faintly heard, breaking upon the dread 
 silence which had come over the scene round about 
 them, as the ticking of a watch at midnight upon a 
 nerve-shattered invalid. 
 
 Fascinated by the sweep of clouds, they stood, 
 these little boys, with their eyes lifted towards the 
 heavens. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 This exclamation which seemed to break from all 
 simultaneously was evoked by a sudden change in 
 the moving panorama. For, as they stood gazing, 
 there dropped from the bosom of these clouds thin, 
 dark veils reaching from earth to sky. 
 
 "What is that?" cried Green. 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure," answered Tom. "I 
 never saw anything like that in St. Louis. Maybe 
 it's rain moving this way. Anyhow, the storm'll be 
 on us in a moment. Just look how it's rushin' 
 towards us. It's too late to start for the colleg* 
 Where'll we go to?" 
 
 And as they set about answering this question the 
 clouds came nearer and nearer. The whistling of the 
 breeze that one moment before had seemed but to 
 emphasize the silence, had risen to an angry scream. 
 
 The four lads, wavering and irresolute, not know-
 
 104 TOM PL A YFAIR. 
 
 ing whither they should go for shelter, presented 
 a striking tableau as they paused there in the open. 
 
 Tom stood with his legs apart and firmly braced. 
 His hands were clasped behind his back; and with 
 his hat tilted so as to show a shock of thick black 
 hair over his forehead, and his mouth pursed as 
 though he were about to whistle, he raised his eyes 
 in an unblinking gaze upon the angry clouds. Next 
 him was Alec, pale, silent, with an awe-stricken look 
 upon his fair face. He had put his arm through 
 Tom's, and clung to our little friend as a drowning 
 man to a plank. Tom was Alec's hero. Harry Quip 
 was on the other side of Tom, the usual grin still 
 lingering upon his merry face, and his hands thrust 
 deep in his pockets. Green, who stood in advance 
 of these, had become intensely pale.. His fingers 
 were quivering, his breath came |n gasps, and he 
 glanced over and over from sky to companions, from 
 companions to sky. 
 
 The first drops of rain began to patter about them, 
 while the wind keeping time with the movement of 
 the rain sent the trees before them bowing and sway- 
 ing in a weird dance, all the more weird for the un- 
 natural darkness that had fallen upon all nature. 
 
 " Hadn't we better run?" asked Tom. 
 
 "Yes," said Green, eagerly. "Come on." 
 
 "I'm afraid, Tom, I can't run," said poor Alec. 
 "I feel weak and dizzy, and I'm so frightened.' 
 
 "Harry and John, go ahead," said Tom. "I'll 
 stay with Alec." 
 
 " No you don't, Tom " said Quip. " If you stay, 
 I stay." 
 
 "Come on, Quip," implored Green, "they can 
 look out for themselves."
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 105 
 
 "Go on yourself," said Harry, speaking with some 
 asperity. " You can take care of .yourself, if you 
 want to." 
 
 "But I don't want to be alone in this storm." 
 
 "Then stay here," came the curt answer. 
 
 "Halloa!" cried a voice, "why you're smart boys 
 for your age; you've chosen about the safest place 
 around here." And John Donnel, out of breath with 
 running, emerged from the woods and placed himself 
 beside Green. 
 
 "We came near running away," said Tom. "We 
 thought we could run through the woods and find 
 some house to stay in till the storm blew over. We're 
 mighty glad to see you, John." 
 
 " It's lucky you stayed here. If the wind gets 
 any worse the woods will be a dangerous place fly- 
 ing branches and lightning and what not!" 
 
 During this conversation, short as it was, rain and 
 wind had grown worse. 
 
 "Ugh! we'll be drenched to the skin, "said Tom. 
 "Why, halloa!" he added, "Alec is sick." 
 
 Alec had pillowed his face on Tom's bosom, and 
 before the exclamation was well out of Tom's mouth, 
 the poor child fainted. 
 
 " Here, give me the boy," shouted Donnel (shout- 
 ing had now become necessary as the ordinary tone 
 of conversation). "I'll fix him in a trice." And 
 John, as he spoke, took Alec in his arms, carried 
 him to a soft bit of earth, and depositing him gently, 
 threw open his collar. 
 
 " Halloa, Green, what's the matter?" bawled Tom, 
 attracted by the strange motions of the frightened 
 boy.
 
 io6 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "I can't stand here; I've got to run," came the 
 
 answer. 
 
 Donnel raised his face. 
 
 "Stay where you are," he said sternly; "if you 
 want to die young, run through those woods." 
 
 As he ceased speaking, there came a dazzling 
 flash of lightning, followed almost instantaneously 
 by a terrific clap of thunder. 
 
 With a wild cry, Green dashed for the woods. 
 
 "Stop him, Tom," cried Donnel, jumping to his 
 feet, "stop him; he's lost his wits." 
 
 Donnel, though many yards in the rear of both, 
 had set forward in hot pursuit. As for Tom, he 
 scarcely needed Donnel's bidding. Green had not 
 fairly made a start when Tom was at his heels. 
 
 Terror, they say, lends speed. But poor Green 
 seemed to be an exception to this as to many other 
 rules. He slipped several times, and once was within 
 a little of losing his balance and falling to the earth. 
 Indeed it seemed as though Tom, who was running 
 at his best, would catch him before he reached the 
 woods. But as Green drew nearer the dangerous 
 shelter, he regained something of his customary 
 speed; and Tom, who had thus far gained upon him, 
 began to lose his advantage; Donnel, meanwhile, 
 was lessening the distance between himself and Tom 
 at every step. 
 
 At length Green, in passing a tree that stood like 
 a sentinel, guarding the main body of the woods, 
 slipped again, and before he could well recover him- 
 self, Tom had come within five feet of him. Then, 
 just as the thoroughly frantic boy broke into his 
 regular speed, Tom sprang into the air, alighted on 
 Green's back, and boj him to the ground.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 107 
 
 And while they were still rolling upon the drenched 
 earth, there was a sharp crack, like the report of a 
 pistol discharged at one's ear, a strange swishing 
 sound, a crash as of many branches beating against 
 each other; and, twenty feet before them, there came 
 crashing to the earth a giant oak. As it fell, a twig 
 struck Tom in the face. 
 
 In an instant, though dazed and bewildered, Tom 
 had sprung to his feet. But Green rose only to his 
 knees ; he was quivering with fear and beat his breast. 
 
 "Spare me! spare me!" he cried. " I'll go to con- 
 fession this very night." 
 
 " Get up, will you ?" bawled John Donnel, his 
 voice rising high above the noises of the elements, 
 as he caught Green by the shoulders, and dragged 
 him to his feet. " If you don't move away from here, 
 you'll not have a chance to make a confession." 
 And without further words, John dragged him back 
 into the open. Tom followed quietly; even his face, 
 : t must be said, had paled a trifle. 
 
 And there they stood motionless as statues, silent 
 and awed for two or three minutes; there they stood 
 till in the swiftness of its might the wind had flown 
 by them, till the clouds had moved on to the western 
 horizon, and left the sky above them perfectly clear, 
 till, in fine, the storm had ceased with a suddenness 
 befitting its violence. 
 
 " Well, it's over and all is well, " said John Donnel. 
 
 " I guess we had better run for college, John," put 
 in Tom, "and change our things, or we'll get rheu- 
 matism or small-pox, or something ugly. What's 
 the matter, Green?" 
 
 Green pointed a quivering finger at the western 
 sky.
 
 108 TOM PLA YFAIR, 
 
 " It is coming back. Those clouds have stopped 
 moving." 
 
 "I guess we can beat 'em," answered Tom. 
 "John, I'm awful glad you came. We'd have lost 
 our heads, if it hadn't been for you. How did you 
 come to be around ?" 
 
 " I was hunting for snakes with Keenan, and we 
 got separated ; you can rely upon it that George is 
 safe in college by this time. Now boys, for a run 
 home. Are you all right, Alec?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Alec, who had risen to his feet 
 while the race between Green and Tom had been 
 going on, "but I'm afraid I can't run very fast." 
 
 " Here, put your arm through mine," said John. 
 
 " And your other arm through mine," added Tom, 
 whose color had fully returned. 
 
 In a very short time, indeed, they were changing 
 their garments in the dormitory. 
 
 Green uttered not a word till he was about to leave 
 the room. Then he said: 
 
 " Tom, if you hadn't jumped on my back and 
 pulled me over, I'd be dead now. Ugh!" 
 
 "Yes," replied Tom, adjusting his tie with more 
 than wonted precision; "and if I hadn't tumbled 
 over with you, I'd have been killed too. I was 
 scared that time, I can tell you. But, of course, 
 you weren't scared." Tom grinned as he waited for 
 an answer. 
 
 "Scared! I should think I was. Say, Tom, I 
 was lying to you fellows about my not being afraid. " 
 
 "You needn't tell us that," said Tom bluntly. 
 
 "But I'm going to change; see if I don't." And 
 Green left the dormitory and went straight to the 
 qhapel, leaving Tom and Alec alone,.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 169 
 
 "Well, Alec," began Tom, who divined from the 
 timid lad's face that he wished to say something, 
 " do you feel shaken ?" 
 
 " A little, Tom. Did you hear what Green said 
 just after the storm ?" 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 " He said it was coming back." 
 
 " Oh, well ! you know he was most scared out of 
 his wits." 
 
 " Tom, it is coming back." 
 
 " Nonsense." 
 
 " Well, I feel as though something were about to 
 happen. Wont you please pray for me ?" 
 
 And Alec caught Tom's hand and gazed into his 
 countenance with a sweet pathos inexpressibly touch- 
 ing. A beautiful face it was that met our hero's, 
 nonetheless beautiful for the modesty which nearly 
 every minute of the day veiled the eyes, and sent 
 the blood purpling the pale cheeks. Now, however, 
 Alec's eyes were wide open and fixed, oh, so appeal- 
 ingly, upon Tom's. And Tom, as he returned the 
 gaze, was impressed with something which he could 
 not define, but which brought home to him for the 
 first time, that he was in the presence of a boy of 
 extraordinary holiness and purity. 
 
 "Why, of course I'll pray for you, if you want me 
 to What's up ?" 
 
 " To-morrow, Tom, I finish making the nine First 
 Fridays." 
 
 "Well, I don't see why you want any praying 
 for. I need it bad. I've done a lot of things that 
 I hadn't ought to." 
 
 "Yes; but you've done a lot of good, too. I was
 
 110 TOM PLAYFA1R. 
 
 so glad, Tom, when you spoke up to Green. You 
 know how to talk." 
 
 "That's what I've got a tongue for. But it was 
 that falling tree which fetched him. He'll behave 
 decently for a week, I reckon." 
 
 Poor Alec looked as though he would say more; 
 but words and courage failed him. He again caught 
 his friend's hand, pressed it, then hurried from the 
 dormitory with that indefinable expression which 
 Tom had noticed before. 
 
 Tom continued sitting on his bed for some 
 moments longer. 
 
 "I didn't know that Alec Jones," he soliloquized 
 as he rose. " I thought he was a little girl, but he's 
 a mighty good girl anyhow." 
 
 And with a grin on his face, he left the dormitory. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE FIRST FRIDAY IN NOVEMBER. 
 
 IT was ten of the night, and, though so late in 
 the season, quite warm and extremely oppressive. 
 Above, the clear sky was gemmed with stars. In 
 the west hung a thick, black cloud; it had been 
 motionless all the day. 
 
 There was a hush over the dormitory. The feeble 
 light of the lamp at the entrance was utterly insuffi- 
 cient to limn the countenances of the slumberers 
 lying beneath the cupola; and so it would have been 
 difficult for any one to perceive that Tom Playfair, 
 whose bed stood directly beneath the cupola, was
 
 TOM PLA yFAIR. ill 
 
 vide awake. With the single exception of the night 
 when he undertook to exorcise Green, who, by the 
 way, was now his right-hand neighbor, nothing like 
 this had ever happened to him before. To his left 
 lay Alec Jones; beyond him Harry Quip, and, last 
 of the row, John Pitch. These five were grouped 
 under and about the cupola. The other occupants 
 were at the further end of the room, separated from 
 this row of five by a space of some thirty odd feet. 
 It will be convenient for the reader to keep these 
 details in mind. 
 
 Tom, as I have said, was awake. Perhaps a sense 
 of novelty reconciled him to the situation ; for he lay 
 very quiet. The subdued breathing of the sleepers 
 was the only sound to break the stillness; without 
 the winds were hushed, and no cry of man or bird 
 or beast broke upon the brooding calm of the night. 
 
 For fully half an hour, Tom, from their different 
 modes of breathing, endeavored to place the various 
 sleepers. He easily picked out Harry Quip's, and, 
 with more difficulty, John Pitch's. At this point 
 he grew weary of this new study, and cast about in 
 his thoughts for some fresh diversion. It was hard 
 upon eleven o'clock, when he concluded to arise, go 
 to a window, and count the stars. 
 
 As he was setting foot upon the floor, a silvery, 
 sweet voice, with a sacred pathos in every tone, 
 broke, or rather glorified, the silence. 
 
 "My Jesus, mercy!" 
 
 The invocation came from Alec. 
 
 Tom bent down and gazed into the dreamer's face. 
 Even with the feeble light, he could perceive lines 
 of terror upon the slight, delicate, innocent features. 
 
 With a gentleness which, on recalling the inci-
 
 ili TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 dent afterwards, surprised Tom himself, he lightly 
 patted the upturned cheek ; and forthwith the face 
 grew strangely calm; a smile, tender yet so feeble 
 that the facial muscles scarce changed, passed over 
 it, and from the lips came the whispered, " Sweet 
 Heart of Jesus, be my love." 
 
 With his hand still resting on the sleeper's cheek, 
 Tom stood gazing upon the radiant face in mute 
 admiration. 
 
 " Amen, " he whispered softly to himself. " If ever 
 I get to talkin'g in my sleep, I hope I'll do it that 
 style." 
 
 He removed his hand; Alec opened his eyes. 
 
 "You're all right, Alec," explained Tom, bending 
 low so as to whisper into the boy's ear, "You got a 
 hollering in your sleep, and I just passed my hand 
 over your cheek. Go to sleep again. Goodnight." 
 And he held out his hand. 
 
 "Good night, Tom." And Alec drew his hand 
 from the coverlet to clasp Tom's, displaying, as he 
 did so, his rosary twined about the fragile arm. 
 Then very gently Alec fell into a calm slumber. 
 Looking on such a face, it was hard to imagine that 
 the world was full of wickedness and sin. 
 
 Tom waited till he felt sure that Alec was sound 
 asleep. Then he murmu - ed to himself: 
 
 " I guess I'll count the stars now." 
 
 Walking over a-tiptoe to one of the western win- 
 dows he looked out. He counted no stars that night. 
 For the dismal, black cloud was now in motion, ad- 
 vancing ominously, swiftly, in a direct line toward 
 the small boy standing in his night-shirt at the 
 window. 
 
 "Whew!" whistled the would-be star-gazer.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 113 
 
 " Green and Alec were right after all. It is coming 
 back." 
 
 Even as he spoke, the awful whisper of the ap- 
 proaching storm could be heard; a whisper that 
 lasted but for a moment, when it changed to a sigh, 
 deepened into a groan, which grew louder, more 
 violent, more threatening every second. 
 
 " It's getting chilly too," murmured Tom to him- 
 self. " I guess I'll hop into my pants." 
 
 And very quickly indeed, he was fully dressed 
 sailor-shirt, knickerbockers, stockings, everything 
 save his tie and his shoes and, with his usual calm- 
 ness, returned to the window to watch and wait upon 
 the turn of events. 
 
 The patter of the rain upon the roof could now be 
 distinctly heard, while far off from the east came the 
 muffled thunder of some distant storm. In attempt- 
 ing to take another look from the window, Tom 
 happened to touch a wire fastening for the window- 
 curtain. 
 
 " Ouch !" he muttered, withdrawing his hand very 
 quickly; and perhaps for the first time since his 
 mother's death, he became thoroughly frightened. 
 A queer feeling had passed through his whole body. 
 What could it be ? 
 
 There was something wrong about things, and the 
 mystery frightened him. He had received a sharp 
 shock ; but he knew nothing of electricity. 
 
 The beating of the rain, while Tom was still pon- 
 dering, became louder and louder, and the boys be- 
 gan to move uneasily in their beds; many, indeed, 
 were now half awake. The wind, too, was howling 
 about the house in a fury of power. 
 
 Tom had just reached his bed, when a loud bang-
 
 H4 TOM 
 
 ing noise brought every one in the room from the 
 land of sleep ; and a gust of rain came sweeping in, 
 thoroughly drenching Tom's bed. Ah! that ne- 
 glected bolt. The door of the cupola had flown open, 
 and was now flapping noisily against the lightning- 
 rod. 
 
 As with noisy recurrence it opened and shut, Tom 
 caught a glimpse of the stars on the clear eastern 
 horizon, and almost directly overhead that black, 
 sinister cloud, hanging like a curse over St. Maure's. 
 
 Even while he was taking in this strange aspect 
 of the heavens, the water had formed into several 
 pools upon the floor. Quip, Jones, Green, and Pitch, 
 all of them with appalled faces, had grouped them- 
 selves beside Tom. No wonder they were alarmed; 
 the frightful banging of the door, coupled with the 
 fierce beat of the sheeted rain, was an overtax on 
 the nerves of the boldest. 
 
 "Oh, Tom!" chattered Green," I'm glad I went to 
 Holy Communion this morning." 
 
 " So'm I," answered Tom. " Say, boys, I'm going 
 to shut that door, even if I do get a ducking. Good- 
 by." And he made a dash at the ladder. 
 
 Unmindful of the rain which almost blinded him, 
 he succeeded at length in securing a hold on the door. 
 But pull and tug as he might, the wind, now at its 
 height, held its own; till at last, in a sudden lull, 
 the door yielded to his efforts. 
 
 " Now, if I could only get my hand on that 
 bolt" 
 
 He never finished this sentence. For as he was 
 still groping about for the knob, the wind in a sud- 
 den rise sent the door flying from his grasp. There 
 a sharp, clanging sound, and the dull noise of
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 11$ 
 
 some heavy object beating upon thereof; and, as the 
 door, torn from its hinges, pulled the lightning-rod 
 down from the cupola, Tom lost his balance, and 
 was thrown backwards from his perch. Happily for 
 himself, he was flung upon his bed, whence he rolled 
 to the floor. 
 
 Two boys assisted him to rise, and gazed anxiously 
 into his face. 
 
 On that occasion Tom, far from being stunned, 
 was unusually awake to every impression. His senses 
 had become sharpened ; and as he rose to his feet 
 he took in the whole scene. At the other end of the 
 dormitory stood huddled together all the boys save 
 Harry, Pitch, Alec, and Green. The prefect was 
 just advancing from the group towards them. Tom 
 could see all this, for the simple reason that a cas- 
 socked figure he recognized the President of the 
 college had just entered with a lamp that lighted 
 the whole room. 
 
 The two who had lifted him to his feet were Jones 
 and Green. Upon the face of Alec there still dwelt 
 that sweet expression, brought from dreamland, but 
 softened and beautified in a new way by concern for 
 Tom's safety. Green's face had strangely changed. 
 All the roughness had gone out of it. Awe and pity 
 awe at the storm, pity for Tom had touched it 
 into refinement. 
 
 All this, I say, Tom took notice of, as they raised 
 him to his feet. 
 
 "You're not hurt, old fellow, are you?" inquired 
 Green earnestly. 
 
 "Not a bit." 
 
 " Thank God !'" murmured Alec. 
 
 "I'm glad I went this morning," said Green.
 
 110 TOM PLAY FAIR. 
 
 "Tom," said Harry, "we'll help you pull your 
 bed away." 
 
 " Oh, it's no use getting drenched the way I 
 am." 
 
 "We don't mind that," said Green, and he and 
 Alec sprang forward towards Tom's bed. 
 
 They had not taken two steps, when there came a 
 dazzling flash of light. Tom fell violently to the 
 floor, pillowed upon the body of some one who had 
 fallen before him, where he lay motionless, yet con- 
 scious, and with a feeling as though every muscle 
 and fibre of his body had been wrenched asunder 
 lay there gazing up into a sky now suddenly brilliant 
 with stars, into a rainless sky with not a cloud to mar 
 its tranquil beauty. 
 
 The storm was over. 
 
 And as he fell the President's lamp had gone out, 
 and in the dazzling brilliancy of that awful flash he 
 had seen five boys standing under the cupola go 
 plunging forward violently to the floor, while the 
 smell as of burnt powder and of ozone pervaded the 
 whole apartment. Then, almost simultaneously in- 
 deed, came a deafening noise. To the President's 
 ears it sounded like the explosion of a powder mag- 
 azine at his side. But he knew that it was not an 
 explosion of powder; he knew too well that it was 
 the thunder following the lightning flash which had 
 stricken down his boys before his very eyes; and, in 
 the dread hush and darkness that followed, the Pres- 
 ident's voice, clear and firm, filled the room with 
 the words of sacramental absolution, as, raising his 
 hand and making the sign of the cross, he said: 
 
 ' ' Ego vos absolve a peccatis vestris in nomine Patris 
 et Filii et Sfiritus Sancti. Amen"
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 1 17 
 
 " I absolve you from your sins, in the name of 
 the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. 
 Amen." 
 
 The presiding prefect had, in the mean time, re- 
 lighted the dormitory lamp (which had also gone 
 out in the shock of the lightning stroke), and was 
 now standing beside his superior. 
 
 "Boys," continued the latter, who in the dim light 
 perceived several moving forms, " take your clothes 
 on your arm, and leave this room quietly, one by 
 one. Go to the infirmary ; the storm is now over, 
 and there's not the least danger." 
 
 On occasions such as this .the panic does not im- 
 mediately follow the catastrophe. Between the 
 two there is always a lull a time when the imagi- 
 nation of each is charging itself with the real- 
 ization of what has passed, with the picturing of 
 what may come. That done, the panic takes its 
 course. 
 
 The president had taken the right time for speak- 
 ing. Had he lost his head for one moment, there 
 would have ensued, in all probability, a frightful 
 scene. But his calmness gained the mastery overall. 
 Quietly, noiselessly, with pitiful faces, the boys 
 passed down the stairs. How eagerly he counted 
 them. It was the most trying period of his long 
 life. 
 
 Six passed. 
 
 Three more nine. 
 
 Three more twelve. The last was the prefect. 
 
 Then there was a silence. 
 
 His senses, then, had not deceived him. Five had 
 been struck by lightning. 
 
 He had relighted his lamp, and now hastened to
 
 Il8 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 the other end. Tom, his eyes closed, lay with his 
 head pillowed upon Green's body; near him Alec 
 Jones, calm so quiet! Beyond was Quip, breath- 
 ing heavily with an ugly gash upon his face. Pitch 
 was in a sitting posture, murmuring incoherent 
 words. 
 
 "Tom!" cried the President, stooping down, and 
 catching the boy's hand. 
 
 The eyes opened. 
 
 "Yes, sir; I'm all right; what's happened?" 
 
 The president made a slight gesture, and bent over 
 Green. No need to listen for the breath that never 
 would return. He moved over to Alec Jones, and a 
 stifled sob burst from his bosom. Green and Jones 
 had been instantly killed; had never heard the crash 
 that followed the dazzling stroke; had been called 
 suddenly before that God whom they had received 
 at the morning Mass into their bosoms. It was the 
 First Friday. 
 
 Tom's wet garments had saved him. The elec- 
 tricity had taken its way through his clothes instead 
 of through himself. But he did not know at the 
 moment that he had passed forth free from the jaws 
 of death ; for not one of those now remaining in the 
 dormitory, save the President, was aware that the 
 power which sent them stunned to the floor was the 
 awful power of the thunderbolt.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TOM"S MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 
 
 TTARRY are you hurt ?" 
 
 ll Tom was bending over Harry Quip. But 
 there came no answer. The president touched Tom 
 lightly on the shoulder. 
 
 " Playfair, " he said, " can I trust you to keep 
 cool ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir! if you just tell me what's happened. 
 There was a queer feeling went through me just now, 
 and something seemed to burn my right leg." 
 
 " The house has been struck by lightning, and you 
 received a slight shock. Harry Quip got a worse 
 one, and Green and Jones are seriously injured. You 
 and Pitch might remove Harry to a bed over there; 
 but don't tell him, when he comes to, what's hap- 
 pened to the others, and be sure not to show him a 
 long face, or you'll frighten him." 
 
 "Catch hold of his head, Johnny," said Tom. 
 With tender care, they conveyed poor Harry to the 
 nearest bed; while the president, still cherishing a 
 faint hope in his heart, eagerly sought to discover 
 some signs of life in Green and Jones. 
 
 Harry, shortly after being placed upon the bed, 
 gave signs of consciousness. 
 
 " Halloa, Harry," cried Tom, forcing a grin. 
 
 " Tom! " Harry gave a gasp. 
 
 "Yes; it's me; and you're all right, old boy." 
 
 "Wh what's happened ?_"
 
 120 TOM PL A YFAIR. 
 
 "An electric machine got loose, or something," re 
 plied our ingenious hero, " and spilled itself on top 
 of us. They let you have it at fairs for five cents a 
 head." 
 
 But even this comic view of the situation failed to 
 win a smile from Harry. 
 
 " Where's my leg ? " he gasped. 
 
 " Both your legs are screwed on in the right place." 
 
 " No: my right leg's gone." 
 
 Tom caught the right leg and lifted it into full 
 view. 
 
 " How does that strike you ? " 
 
 "But I don't feel it." 
 
 " Well, catch hold of it, then ; it won't come off. 
 You gave me an awful kick with it just a moment 
 ago." 
 
 "I'm choking," continued Harry. 
 
 "If you were, you couldn't talk." 
 
 "But I can't swallow. Oh! " And Harry looked 
 more and more frightened. 
 
 " Who the mischief asked you to swallow ? It isn't 
 breakfast time yet, and there's nothing to eat round 
 here, anyhow." 
 
 The infirmarian, who had entered at the beginning 
 of this conversation, and who, having satisfied him- 
 self that Green and Jones were dead, had now come 
 to Harry's side, here broke in. 
 
 "Playfair, we want the doctor at once. Run down- 
 stairs to the room on the next floor where the brothers 
 sleep. They are dressing now to come up here and 
 lend us help. Take the first one you meet, or the 
 one that's nearest dressed, and tell him to hurry off 
 after the doctor: we want him for Harry Quip." 
 
 Waiting for QQ sgcood bidding, Tom, followed by
 
 TOM PL A YFAIR. 121 
 
 Pitch, hurried from the dormitory. Luckily they 
 met a brother who was just coming up the stairs: 
 and as the house clock struck twelve, Tom delivered 
 his message. 
 
 "I'll have the doctor here within half an hour," 
 said the brother, turning about at once. 
 
 "I'm coming along, Brother George." 
 
 " No: you'd better go to sleep." 
 
 " I couldn't sleep now, brother. Oh, please let me 
 go." 
 
 Brother George made no answer, and Tom, taking 
 silence for consent, followed after him. As a matter 
 of course, Pitch clung to his leader. 
 
 Once out of doors, they sped through the garden, 
 and took the high-road leading to St. Maure's. Sud- 
 denly their course was arrested, for a most unprece- 
 dented thing had come to pass. There was an in- 
 significant creek flowing past the college and down 
 to the river. Ordinarily it was very shallow, but 
 the furious rain of the preceding day and the past 
 hour had caused it to swell into a muddy torrent. 
 Worst of all, there was no sign of the bridge. 
 
 " The bridge has been swept away! " cried Tom. 
 
 "I wish I could swim," said Brother George. 
 "Boys, you remain here, and I'll go to one of the 
 houses on this side and get help." 
 
 Scarcely had he turned his back upon them when 
 Tom pulled off his shoes, stockings, and sailor shirt. 
 
 " What are you going to do, Tom ? " 
 
 " Didn't you hear the brother say he'd swim it if 
 he could. I can swim that far." 
 
 " Oh, but it's an awful current. You'll be carried 
 down to the river." 
 
 Tom gazed at the swirling stream, apparently
 
 122 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 some fifty feet wide, moving in all the swing of a 
 torrent at his feet. 
 
 " I'll bet I won't," he said presently. "Anyhow, 
 I'm willing to take a risk for old Quip. Here, 
 Johnny, just lend me your scap'lers. I haven't been 
 rolled in them yet; but it won't hurt me to wear 'em. 
 I think I'd better start higher up so as to land about 
 here on the other side." 
 
 Having put Pitch's scapulars about his neck, Tom 
 ran some distance up stream. 
 
 "Now, Pitch, good-by. Shake hands. It's a 
 risk, you know. If anything happens, you send word 
 to my father and my aunt that I had the scap'lers on." 
 
 Tom was decidedly of the opinion that this bit of 
 information would make up for anything that might 
 occur. So, somewhat serious, yet light and bold of 
 heart, he slipped into the water. 
 
 He took one step forward, and found himself up 
 to his waist; another step, and caught by the current 
 he was whirled down stream like a cork. But this 
 cork had legs and arms, and struck out vigorously 
 for the shore. Vigorous as were his strokes, how- 
 ever, he felt almost at once that he would in any 
 event be carried far down stream before reaching the 
 other shore. For all that, he struck out bravely, 
 beating the water with over-hand stroke. Tom, at 
 this period of his life, was by no means an expert 
 swimmer. He had attended a swimming-school sev- 
 eral times a week during the last summer, and had 
 succeeded in learning to swim a short distance and 
 to float on his back. But he knew nothing of swim- 
 ming with the current, and, in consequence, quickly 
 expended his strength. Before he had gone two- 
 thirds of the distance across he was worn out. But
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 123 
 
 his presence of mind did not desert him. Murmur- 
 ing a prayer, he turned over on his back, and, mov- 
 ing his feet gently, he suffered himself to be carried 
 along. He had not drifted far, when his body came 
 in contact with something a few feet below the water. 
 Turning instantly he secured a hold on it with his 
 hands. 
 
 " Hurrah! " he shouted to Pitch. " I'm all right. 
 I've found the railing of the bridge. It's only about 
 two feet under water." 
 
 And clinging to this, Tom made his way hand over 
 hand, as it were, to the opposite shore. 
 
 Dr. Mullan was not a little surprised when he 
 opened his front door three minutes later upon a boy 
 arrayed in the simplicity of undershirt and knicker- 
 bockers, who was battering away at his door with a 
 log of wood as though he would burst it open. 
 
 "Oh, doctor, our college has been struck by light- 
 ning. Three fellows are badly hurt, and you're 
 wanted there right off." 
 
 "John! " bawled the doctor, "saddle my horse at 
 once. Come in, boy; you'll need a doctor, too, if 
 you don't look out. How did you wet yourself ? " 
 
 " I couldn't find the bridge, sir, and I tried to swim 
 across. I found it then, or I reckon I'd be in the 
 river by this time." 
 
 The doctor's wife, who had caught these words, 
 now came forward, and kissing Tom in true motherly 
 style an action which Tom, in his state of excite- 
 ment, took no notice of drew off his undershirt, 
 and threw her own cloak about him. 
 
 "That's just the thing, Mary," put in Dr. Mullan. 
 " Now get him a small glass of brandy, while I 
 put him to bed.
 
 124 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Oh, I say," cried Tom. "I'm not sick: you go 
 off and take care of the fellows that need you." 
 
 Returning no answer to this expostulation, the 
 doctor pushed Tom into his own sleeping-room, and 
 without further ceremony pulled off our young swim- 
 mer's knickerbockers, and proceeded to rub him 
 down vigorously. 
 
 "Ouch," cried Tom, suddenly. 
 
 "Why, boy, you're burnt." 
 
 The doctor was gazing at a spot on Tom's right 
 knee about the form and size of the human heart. 
 
 " I thought there was something the matter when 
 I pulled off my stocking: that's where the electricity 
 took me." 
 
 "Were you struck, too?" 
 
 "I think so; I went tumbling over as if I was 
 paralyzed. That burn isn't much. " 
 
 "It's good it's no more." And the doctor, who 
 had opened a medicine chest, applied an ointment to 
 the spot, bandaged it, and had Tom wrapped warm 
 in his own bed before his wife entered the room with 
 the glass of brandy. 
 
 " Now, boy, these are your orders. You stay in 
 this bed till nine o'clock to-morrow. By keeping 
 quiet, you'll escape the consequences of over-excite- 
 ment and over-exertion. You understand ? " 
 
 "But, doctor, I can't sleep." 
 
 "You can, though. Mary, if this boy doesn't go 
 to sleep in ten minutes, give him a teaspoonful of 
 this. Now good-by. " 
 
 The doctor, aided by the directions of Pitch and 
 the brother, easily found the bridge, and made the 
 college in a few minutes. Jones and Green gave 
 him no trouble: they were beyond doctors' skill
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 12$ 
 
 had been from the moment the bolt touched 
 them. 
 
 But for the rest of the night he was busy nursing 
 and warming and rubbing poor Harry's legs into 
 life. 
 
 Tom, meanwhile, under the influence of an opiate, 
 slept a dreamless sleep, watched over with loving 
 care by a gentle woman. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM TAKES A TRIP. 
 
 AS this story concerns Thomas Playfair and only 
 incidentally the history of St. Maure's, the reader 
 will be spared the sad details concerning the night 
 of the catastrophe, and of the ensuing days of 
 mourning. 
 
 Tom, whom we have to do with, was conducted 
 to the infirmary Saturday morning by the doctor in 
 person. 
 
 "Brother," he said to the infirmarian, "here's a 
 boy who's to get complete rest for the next seven or 
 eight days." 
 
 Tom, who was standing behind the doctor and the 
 infirmarian, smiled genially, raised his right leg, and, 
 while balancing himself on his left, waved it spas- 
 modically. 
 
 "Just look at him," continued the doctor, turning 
 sharply and catching him in the act; "he's trying to 
 knock his burned leg against something even now." 
 
 "No, I ain't," protested the discomfited acrobat, 
 bringing his foot to the floor; " I'm not a fool."
 
 126 TOM PL A YFAI&. 
 
 Whereupon he resumed his smile: the rogue knew 
 that Harry Quip would be his companion. 
 
 "Of course, brother," pursued the man of medi- 
 ine, "you are to diet him." 
 
 Tom's face fell. 
 
 " Diet me! with what, doctor ?" 
 
 "With a boat-hook," answered the grave practi- 
 tioner without showing the least sign of a twinkle in 
 his eye. He added in a lower tone to the infirma- 
 rian: " Three pieces toast and tea for breakfast, same 
 for supper, with beef-tea instead of tea for dinner." 
 
 Tom overheard him. 
 
 " I say," he broke in, " I'm not sick. I want to go 
 to school, and keep up with my class." 
 
 "You can't go out for a week, sir; and if you 
 ckm't keep your legs quiet, I'll not let you out for 
 two weeks. Now, remember, young fellow, no hop- 
 ping over beds, no skipping, no jumping about the 
 room, no running. When you have to walk, walk 
 slowly. But the best thing you can do is to keep 
 perfectly quiet." 
 
 "Oh, pshaw!" 
 
 Tom was disgusted. Even Quip, jolly as ever, 
 though battered, could not reconcile him to his im- 
 prisonment. Nor did he become more reconciled as 
 the days passed. After swallowing his toast, he was 
 wont to seek out the infirmarian. 
 
 "Brother," he would say, "I think I'm ready for 
 breakfast now." 
 
 " I just brought it to you." 
 
 "What! you call that a breakfast? Look here, 
 brother, I'm paid for." 
 
 The brother would answer with a grin, and Tom 
 would turn away growling.
 
 PLA Y1-A1R. It"} 
 
 On Saturday of the following week he received a 
 letter which elicited a whoop from him. 
 
 " What are you howling about now ? " asked Quip, 
 who with the exception of a slight bruise and a 
 touch of stiffness, was as well as ever. 
 
 "Read it yourself," cried Tom, tossing the letter 
 to Harry, and hopping about the room in an ecstasy 
 of joy. 
 
 Thus the letter ran: 
 
 ST. Louis, Nov. 6th, 18 . 
 MASTER THOMAS PLAVFAIR: 
 
 Dear Son. Have just heard from president of college 
 fuller details of calamity, and of your sickness. Hear, too, that 
 you have been changing for the better got more sense more 
 faithful to your duty study harder. Glad to learn, too, that you 
 are brave, tho' far too reckless. Best of all, I'm told that your 
 company is good. 
 
 Although president pronounces you quite well, he thinks that 
 a few weeks' rest and change might be safe, as nervous shocks 
 are likely to leave after-effects. 
 
 As I wrote you last September, your uncle has gone to Cincin- 
 nati, where, as he says, he is studying law. In a few days I 
 shall be compelled to go there on business, and your aunt has 
 already made an engagement to see a friend there. 
 
 Start for Cincinnati at once. Will telegraph your uncle to meet 
 you at depot. Have advised president to procure you through 
 ticket, and enclose you twenty-five dollars for pocket money. 
 
 Good-by till we meet, and God bless you. 
 
 Your father, GEORGE PLAYFAIR. 
 
 At half-past two that afternoon Tom, standing on 
 the platform of a car, waved his handkerchief to his 
 playmates as the train shot past the college. 
 
 Kansas City was reached fifteen minutes after 
 scheduled time; and Tom, who had been counting 
 for the last three hours on a grand lunch at the rail- 
 road depot, was obliged to hurry from his car to the 
 Cincinnati train in order to make connections.
 
 I2 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 But here his forced patience was rewarded. 
 
 " Ladies and gents! " shouted a fat little man, who 
 seemed to be in a perpetual state of breathlessness, 
 " a dining-car is attached to this train; and supper, 
 with all the delicacies of the season, is now served." 
 
 " How much ? " inquired Tom, catching the fat 
 man's sleeve, and fastening upon him one of the 
 most earnest gazes the fat man had ever encountered. 
 
 " Seventy-five cents cash without any chromo. Do 
 you want to come in for half price ? Do you take 
 us for a circus ? " The fat man was chuckling be- 
 tween each word. 
 
 " Pshaw! Is that all ? Why, mister, I'd be willing 
 to lay out five dollars on a square meal. You're 
 going to lose on me this trip. I've got a whole week 
 to make up for." 
 
 "Come right along, then," said the fat man. 
 
 And Tom needed no second bidding. 
 
 A negro with an austere face and a white apron 
 moved a chair for Tom, and, handing him the menu, 
 waited for the order. 
 
 Tom's brows knitted as he read the bewildering 
 list a sort of macaronic out of rhyme and metre. 
 
 "I say, couldn't you let me have a program in 
 English of this entertainment." 
 
 The negro, changing his austere expression not 
 one whit, rattled forth 
 
 "Chicken roast or boiled, chicken salad; eggs 
 fried, poached, boiled, omelette with jelly if preferred ; 
 beefsteak, lamb, mutton chops, veal, ham, sausages; 
 potatoes, fried, boiled, Saratoga chips; tomatoes 
 raw, egg-plant, baked beans, apple and custard pie, 
 coffee, cream, tea, and bananas." 
 
 "That'll do, I think," said Tom: "fetch 'em in."
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 12$ 
 
 The waiter changed expression. 
 
 " Fetch in which ? " 
 
 "Those things you were singing out." 
 
 The waiter scratched his head. 
 
 " Look here," said Tom, confidentially. " I haven't 
 had a square meal for a week. A doctor's been prac- 
 tising on me, till I'm nearly ruined. Now, you just 
 go to work and get me lots to eat ; get me a good 
 square meal, and I'll give you fifty cents for your- 
 self." 
 
 There wasn't a sign of austerity on the negro's 
 face as he hurried away. Tom was served with a 
 meal fit for a starving prince. And he did it justice. 
 
 The negro, stationed behind him, could scarce 
 credit his eyes. Nothing equal to Tom's perform- 
 ances had ever come under his observation. Tom, 
 ignorant of the admiration he had excited, plied knife 
 and fork in a quiet, determined way, wishing in his 
 heart that the doctor and infirmarian could see him. 
 It would be a sweet revenge. 
 
 "Come here," whispered the waiter to one of his 
 fellows; "this young chap won't be able to get up. 
 He'll bust." 
 
 However, after three-quarters of an hour's steady 
 attention to the matter in hand, Tom arose quite 
 calmly (whereupon four waiters, who had been view- 
 ing his performance from behind, and expressing 
 their wonder in dumb shows, slipped quietly away) 
 and, making a huge sign of the cross, returned thanks 
 for his meal. 
 
 "I said my 'prayers after meals' three times," 
 he remarked confidentially to the waiter as he gave 
 him one dollar and .twenty-five cents, "because I 
 Chink I got in at least three suppers." 
 9
 
 130 TOM PLA YFAI& 
 
 Tom ought to have been sick that night. He 
 should have suffered intensely. 
 
 The doctors and story books are at one on this 
 point. All the same, he retired early and slept a 
 dreamless sleep which lasted for over nine hours. 
 
 And if the recording angel put any one on the 
 black list for gluttony on that particular day, I am 
 inclined to think it was the doctor, and not the patient. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 2N WHICH TOM GOES TO THE THE A TRE. 
 
 QHORTLY after six o'clock of the following even- 
 O ing the brakeman, throwing open the door of 
 the Pullman car, bawled out what sounded like 
 "Hydrostatic," but was really intended to convey 
 the correct railroad pronunciation of Cincinnati. 
 
 Tom seized his valise and hurried through the car 
 into the depot. 
 
 "Why, Tommy!" cried our old (or young) friend 
 Mr. Meadow, rushing up and catching Tom's dis- 
 engaged hand, "welcome to Cincinnati; glad to see 
 you. And you look so well! You've grown, too, 
 and you're improved ever so much." 
 
 "I'm real glad to see you, uncle," said Tom, re- 
 turning the hearty hand-shake with no less hearti- 
 ness, "indeed I am. You've changed, too. Your 
 mustache is very plain now isn't it ? And you're 
 dressed awful stylishly. I'm glad I've my new 
 clothes on, or I'd feel ashamed to walk with you. 
 How do you like Cincinnati ? "
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 13 1 
 
 "It's a splendid place, Tommy," answered Mr. 
 Meadow as they walked out of the depot and made 
 toward a street-car. "The people are very nice; 
 and there's more amusement here than in St. Louis." 
 
 Tom took a stealthy side-glance at his uncle. Oh, 
 these little boys! Some of them read characters with 
 an intuition which humbles the widest experience. 
 
 " Yes! but I thought you came here to study law." 
 
 "So I did; but I'm kept so busy that I haven't 
 settled down yet." 
 
 " You look heavy round the eyes, as if you stayed 
 up late, uncle." 
 
 "Yes; I surfer from insomnia a great deal," an- 
 swered Mr. Meadow, puzzled to find that he was 
 annoyed under Tom's innocent analysis. " How 
 have you been doing since you left St. Louis? " 
 
 " Pretty well, uncle. I made a bad start ; but 
 now I'm doing better. You see, uncle, I'm trying 
 to get ready to make my First Communion." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes. I hope it will be the happiest day of my 
 life." 
 
 A few earnest, sympathetic words from Mr. Meadow 
 at this juncture might have raised their mutual 
 relations to a higher level. But Mr. Meadow did 
 not understand boys. His influence on Tom, in 
 consequence, was bad. He said: 
 
 " Here's our car; jump on, Tommy." 
 
 His chance was gone. He noticed a strange ex- 
 pression on Tom's face; it was as though the boy 
 had received a blow. Now, there was nothing in the 
 words of the uncle to produce this effect ; but in our 
 mutual relations there is something more potent than 
 words. Manner, expression, and sympathy, or the
 
 13 2 TOM P LA y FA tK. 
 
 want of it, are the chief causes that go towards gain- 
 ing or losing our influence upon one another. Mr. 
 Meadow felt that a wall of separation had at once 
 arisen between himself and his nephew; that their 
 intercourse hereafter was to be on the surface. 
 
 He fell into a train of reflection suggested by this 
 incident, and, while Tom, with the lively interest of a 
 boy in a strange city, took note of everything in his 
 new surroundings, the uncle maintained silence till, 
 at a signal from him, the car stopped at a street- 
 crossing. 
 
 "Here we are, Tom; jump off, and we'll be just 
 in time for supper." 
 
 Walking to an adjoining square, Mr. Meadow 
 pointed to a cheerful two-story building. 
 
 " Is that your house, uncle ? " 
 
 " That's where I board; all the rooms in the upper 
 floor are mine." 
 
 As Mr. Meadow had remarked, they were in time 
 for supper, at which meal, owing to the fact that 
 two young ladies with their father and mother were 
 present, Tom was content to eat little, and contrib- 
 ute his share to the conversation by an occasional 
 " yes'm " and " no, mem," which, as he directed either 
 reply indiscriminately to either sex, did not serve to 
 set him at his ease, though it sent the young ladies 
 into a series of giggles, till Tom, through sheer force 
 of indignation, recovered both tongue and appetite, to 
 the admiration of all present. 
 
 After supper, Mr. Meadow proposed the theatre. 
 Tom was delighted with the suggestion, and an hour 
 later both were seated in the pit of a close building, 
 waiting for the curtain to rise. 
 
 Tom, it must be confessed, was somewhat aston-
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 133 
 
 ished at his surroundings. The audience failed to 
 impress him favorably; and the sight of waiters hurry- 
 ing about with their trays did not suit his ideas at all. 
 
 " Is this a first-class theatre, uncle ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that is, it's a first-class variety. Would you 
 like a glass of beer or soda before the show begins ? " 
 
 "Naw," said Tom, his disgust entering into and 
 distorting his pronunciation: and he wished at that 
 moment that he were back at St. Maure's. 
 
 The curtain presently lifted, and for an hour or 
 so he tried to enjoy jigs, comic songs, and what was 
 announced on the program as a "screaming farce." 
 But he found it weary work keeping amused. The 
 atmosphere, too, soon gave him a headache. Mr. 
 Meadow seemed to be perfectly happy. Tom glanced 
 at him curiously. 
 
 "I'm glad I'm not made that way," he thought. 
 "If this whole business isn't what Mr. Middleton 
 calls unhealthy, then I'm pretty stupid. It's coarse 
 and vulgar." 
 
 "Say, uncle," he resumed aloud, as the curtain 
 fell upon the " screaming farce " screaming actors 
 would be truer "I'm getting a headache, and, if 
 you've no objection, I'll go outside and take a breath 
 of fresh air for a while." 
 
 Now, Mr. Meadow was very dry, and desirous 
 also of conversing between the acts with a few 
 young men, whom he did not purpose introducing to 
 Tom. So he caught eagerly at the opportunity. 
 
 " Certainly, Tommy. Here's a dollar to buy some 
 candy. .Don't go far; and come back soon." 
 
 "All right, uncle." 
 
 Tom went out; as the next chapter will show he 
 never entered the theatre again.
 
 134 TOM PLA YFAIR, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM IS LOST. 
 
 TOM was at last free to follow his bent. From 
 the moment he had left St. Maure's to the pres- 
 ent he had had "no fun," to use his own expression. 
 
 Now that he was rid of Mr. Meadow, he was deter- 
 mined to make the best of the opportunity. Nor did 
 the question of ways and means trouble him. In the 
 matter of amusement Tom, like every well-consti- 
 tuted small boy, was of unfailing resource. 
 
 "Say," he began to the ticket-seller, "I'm going 
 out: how'll I get back? " 
 
 "You can take a carriage," said the facetious 
 ticket-seller, "if you don't care about walking." 
 
 Tom returned his grin. 
 
 "I mean how' 11 I get back without paying over 
 again ? " 
 
 "Oh, here's a check, Johnnie. How are you en- 
 joying the performance ? " 
 
 "It's made me glad to get out," and without 
 waiting for the ticket-seller's retort, Tom, satisfied 
 that he had squared accounts, sallied forth into the 
 night, and cast his eyes about in search of a confec- 
 tionery. 
 
 The street was brilliant with electric lights. Every 
 variety of store seemed to be in the neighborhood 
 of the theatre. Two saloons across the way sand- 
 wiched between them an oyster-house ; and stretch- 
 ing to either side were shops of many kinds, all open 
 and all seemingly driving a busy trade.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 135 
 
 Tom took a long look at the saloons. He was 
 impressed, not favorably indeed, with the number of 
 men in each. 
 
 "Pshaw!" he muttered. " It makes me feel like 
 taking the pledge for life." 
 
 He had scarcely made this reflection when his 
 attention was arrested by the sight of a small boy, 
 who, with a bundle of papers under his arm, passed 
 one of the saloons, and, pausing in front of the oys- 
 ter-house, stood gazing in through the large show- 
 glass. 
 
 Tom was growing lonesome. With a hop and a 
 bound he crossed the street, and noiselessly placed 
 himself behind the newsboy. 
 
 The object of his attention was a lad of little more 
 than eleven. He was neatly but scantily attired. 
 The sleeves of his jacket and knees of his knicker- 
 bockers were patched, and his shoes were open at 
 the toes. The face was quite beautiful, beautiful 
 with some hint of refinement, all the more beautiful, 
 perhaps, that it was touched and softened by sad- 
 ness. But the eyes large and black how eagerly 
 they looked into that window! 
 
 Tom was satisfied with the inspection. .He put 
 himself alongside the newsboy, and set to staring in 
 himself. 
 
 " Paper, sir ? " said the boy. 
 
 " What paper ? " 
 
 "Pastor Times-Star." 
 
 " How much ? " 
 
 " Two cents for the Star, sir, and one cent for the 
 Post, sir." 
 
 "You needn't talk to me as if I was your father," 
 said Tom. " I'll tell you what I'll do, Johnnie: I'll
 
 13$ TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 take a copy of each and give you a dime for 'em if 
 you'll tell me your name." 
 
 "Thank you, sir: my name's Arthur Vane," and 
 Arthur received Tom's ten-cent piece with unmistak- 
 able signs of gratitude. 
 
 "And my name's Tom Playfair; just drop that 
 'sir,' and call me Tom. I'm glad to meet a fellow 
 my own size. I haven't talked to a boy for three 
 days; and grown people are so tiresome! " 
 
 Arthur here smiled, and the twinkle in his eye 
 evinced that for all his sadness he was naturally a 
 merry lad. 
 
 "I think," he put in, "that it might be better if 
 you could get boys of your own class in life to talk 
 with you." 
 
 "Just listen to him," said Tom, apostrophizing the 
 oyster shop, "talking to me as if I wasn't an Ameri- 
 can why, Arthur, I'm a Democrat." 
 
 "But your mother and father mightn't like it," 
 said Arthur, very much astonished with his new ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 "My father's in St. Louis," answered Tom, "and 
 my mother's in heaven. And what's more, you're 
 just as well up in talk as most boys of your size ; and 
 it's my opinion that you haven't been on the streets 
 very long, either. I took a good look at you before 
 I came up, and I'll bet anything you're not used to 
 taking care of yourself." 
 
 "You're right, Tom: I've been supporting myself 
 and little sister for only two months. Papa died 
 when he came here, and left us only a little money." 
 
 "A little sister, too! " 
 
 " Yes, Tom ; poor little Kate has been very sick,
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 137 
 
 but now she's almost well. She's in charge of ths 
 kind sisters." 
 
 Instead of continuing the conversation, Tom caught 
 Arthur by the shoulders and bending down stared 
 straight into his eyes. 
 
 "See here," he began after a pause. "Can you 
 remember the last time you got a square meal ? " 
 
 The lustrous-eyed boy with the pale, thin face 
 smiled again. 
 
 " I had a pretty good meal yesterday. But to-day 
 I've had hard luck. This morning I was stuck." 
 
 " On the Latin verb or a pitchfork, or what ? " 
 queried Tom. 
 
 Arthur laughed again. 
 
 "That's a newsboy's term, Tom: we're 'stuck* 
 when we buy papers and have a lot left unsold." 
 
 "Oh, that's it. So you didn't get a square meal 
 to-day ? " 
 
 " I had a plate of soup and two pieces of bread at 
 noon." 
 
 " How much ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Six cents. " 
 
 "Whew! think of a little boy going around with 
 six-cents' worth of provisions say, Arthur, do you 
 like oysters ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't I ? " exclaimed Arthur with enthusiasm. 
 
 " I thought you meant something by looking in 
 through that window. It's the same way with me," 
 continued Tom, gravely. " I'm uncommonly fond of 
 oysters myself, and so are all my friends. Now I'll 
 treat. You go right in, and order all you want. 
 Here's a dollar. Is that enough ? " 
 
 " I'd like to take it," said Arthur, looking wistfully 
 at the money. " But I can't. It isn't fair,"
 
 138 TOM PLA YFAIR 
 
 "But it is fair," answered Tom. "You're worth 
 a dollar to me, and more. O Arthur, you don't 
 know how tired I am of hearing grown folks talking 
 about elections and stocks and bonds. That's all 
 I've been listening to for three days. It's terrible. 
 It got so bad that I felt like praying never to grow 
 up." 
 
 After further words, Arthur consented to take fifty 
 cents. He was about to enter the oyster-house, when 
 Tom snatched his bundle of papers. 
 
 " What are you up to now, Tom ? " 
 
 "I'll keep the business going at the old stand: 
 while you're eating I'll sell." And without waiting 
 for remonstrance, Tom darted away. 
 
 "Here you are," he shouted, putting in his head 
 at the saloon to his right; "all the evening papers 
 with all the news about the elections and stocks and 
 bonds." 
 
 "Elections! where?" exclaimed a portly gentle- 
 man, holding a glass in suspense. 
 
 " Don't know, sir. There's always news about 
 elections in the paper." 
 
 The gentleman smiled, and, joining in the laugh at 
 his expense, bought a paper, and insisted on several 
 of his companions following his example. 
 
 Tom, richer by fifteen cents, repaired to the next 
 saloon. Here he made the same announcement, and 
 was sternly ordered out by a barkeeper all bang and 
 jewelry. 
 
 Nothing daunted, he took a position at the nearest 
 street corner, and exerted his eloquence on every 
 passer-by. But he found this slow work. Five min- 
 utes passed, and he had disposed of but one more 
 paper
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. IJ9 
 
 "I didn't get a fair chance in that saloon," he 
 murmured. " I think I'll try it again." 
 
 He peered in cautiously this time, and, when the 
 barkeeper's back was turned, rushed in. 
 
 " Last chance, gentlemen. Here are all the even- 
 ing papers complete and unabridged." 
 
 The barkeeper, with an ugly word, sprang over 
 the counter and made a rush at him. 
 
 Tom stood his ground, looking the enraged atten- 
 dant squarely in the face. 
 
 " Which paper do you want, sir ? Times-Star or 
 Post?" 
 
 "Get out of here, you beggar," cried the bar- 
 keeper, pausing suddenly as he saw that Tom did 
 not take to flight. 
 
 "You needn't call names: I'm not a beggar. I'm 
 selling these newspapers for a little fellow who's half- 
 starved." 
 
 The barkeeper glanced around and perceived at 
 once that the popular sympathy was against him. 
 
 "Give me a Star, Johnny," he said, and presently 
 every man in the room was buying a paper. Tom's 
 pluck had caught their fancy, while his declaration 
 had touched their hearts. In a few moments he had 
 disposed of his stock, and resisting several offers to 
 " take a drink," hurried away to rejoin Arthur. 
 
 He found his little friend seated alone at a large 
 table with a plate of fried oysters before him. 
 
 " I'm hungry myself," observed Tom, helping him- 
 self liberally to Arthur's dish. " Order a dozen more, 
 Arthur, and I'll help you eat them." 
 
 " Where are the papers ? " inquired Arthur. 
 
 "Sold every one of 'em. I didn't have a bit of 
 trouble, though I thought that the big barkeeper
 
 140 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 next door would murder me. But he didn't: he 
 
 bought a paper, and ended by asking me to take a 
 
 drink." 
 
 "You don't mean to say that you got Clennam to 
 
 buy a paper the fellow to our right ? " 
 
 " But I did, though; and I sold over fifteen papers 
 
 in his saloon." 
 
 " Well, you're the funniest boy I ever met. There's 
 
 not a newsboy in the city dares go into his saloon. 
 
 They're afraid of him awfully." 
 
 " I was afraid, too," said Tom. " But when I saw 
 
 him rushing at me, I just braced myself up to see 
 
 what he'd do." 
 
 "Tom, I'd like to live with you all the time." 
 
 " Glad you like me, Arthur. Go on and order 
 
 more oysters. " 
 
 "Thank you, I've had enough." 
 
 " So've I. How are you on ice-cream ? " 
 
 " Let me treat this time, Tom. There's a nice 
 
 confectionery right around the corner." 
 
 In this realistic age one must be careful not to tell 
 
 the whole truth, lest one be convicted of exaggera- 
 tion. So I pass lightly over the astonishing feats of 
 
 Tom and Arthur in the ice-cream parlor. 
 
 As Tom paid the bill he glanced at the clock over 
 
 the counter. It wanted twenty-five minutes to twelve. 
 "Arthur, I forgot all about him. Oh, gracious!" 
 "Who!" 
 
 " My uncle. I left him across there in the theatre. " 
 "Why, the theatre let out half an hour ago." 
 "Then, Arthur, I'll tell you a secret." 
 "What, Tom?" cried Arthur breathlessly, for he 
 
 was impressed with his companion's grave face. 
 "I'm lost."
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. t^t 
 
 " Don't you know where you live ? " 
 
 "No; don't even know the name of the street. 
 Uncle Meadow will be the maddest man in Cincin- 
 nati. The fact is, we were having such a jolly good 
 time that I forgot all about him." 
 
 "Well, you're the queerest boy I ever met." 
 
 "I don't see anything queer about it. I'm lost, 
 and you've got to take care of me. That's all." 
 
 Arthur laughed musically; looking upon him now 
 one would hardly recognize the sad-eyed boy of the 
 previous hour. 
 
 " It's so funny, Tom, to hear you talking of being 
 taken care of by me. " 
 
 " Where do you sleep nights ? " continued Tom. 
 
 " I haven't any regular place since we gave up 
 housekeeping." 
 
 " Halloa! who gave up housekeeping ? " 
 
 " My little sister and I. Till she got sick, we had 
 two little bits of rooms in 'Noah's Ark.' ' 
 
 "Noah's Ark! " ejaculated Tom. 
 
 " That's what the St. Xavier College boys call it 
 It's a great big tenement-house right across the alley 
 from the college ; and in fact it does look something 
 like an ark. Well, little Kate and I were there and 
 happy as larks. She was just the best sister, and 
 kept the rooms so bright and cheerful that I used to 
 be so glad to come home after looking around all 
 day for work ! She could cook and sew like a grown 
 person, although she's only nine." 
 
 " Who paid for you ? " broke in Tom. 
 
 " Well, in the beginning we had a little over twelve 
 dollars left by poor papa. But after two weeks we 
 had hardly anything left. Then I had to go to sell- 
 ing papers and taking up all kinds of odd jobs.
 
 142 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 And in spite of all, I could hardly scrape up enough 
 money to pay the rent. After a while we had hard 
 times getting anything to eat. I didn't mind so 
 much for myself, but poor little Kate kept on getting 
 thinner and paler." 
 
 " Didn't you have any friends ? " 
 
 "No, Tom. We were strangers in the city." 
 
 " Then Kate took sick, didn't she ? " 
 
 "Yes, Tom; and a good woman who lived in the 
 tenement got the sisters to take care of her, and 
 now she's quite well. But I don't know what to do. 
 I'm not able to support myself; and I can't bear to 
 think of seeing Kate starving right under my eyes. " 
 
 They were standing under a lamp-post during this 
 conversation and Tom could observe the signs of 
 tears upon his little friend's face. 
 
 " Well," said Tom, choking down his own emotion, 
 " we'll hold a council of war to-night before we go to 
 sleep. Do you know any good hotel around here ? " 
 
 " There's a place across the street, the European 
 Hotel!" 
 
 Tom glanced at the building disdainfully. "No; 
 we want something first-class. We'll put up at the 
 best hotel you know of." 
 
 "The Burnet House is about foursquares away." 
 
 "That sounds better." 
 
 I think Tom succeeded in astonishing more people 
 on that eventful night than, within the same period 
 of time, any boy that ever came to Cincinnati. 
 
 On the register of the Burnet House he wrote in 
 a large, bold hand : 
 
 "Thomas Playfair, travelling student," and he 
 gravely added to Arthur's signature " merchant." 
 
 "We want a first-class room, and breakfast at
 
 TOM PLA YFAIK. 143 
 
 seven," said Tom to the clerk, who had become un- 
 usually wide-awake. 
 
 " Four dollars in advance for the rooms, sir," said 
 that functionary. 
 
 "I didn't say rooms. We're not accompanied 
 by our families. Here's a dollar for one room." 
 
 "Two dollars, sir," said the clerk, now as thor- 
 oughly wide-awake as he had ever been in his life. 
 
 " There's the other dollar; you needn't mind about 
 sending up shaving water in the morning." 
 
 The clerk laughed, and summoning a bell-boy, 
 directed him to show the " gentlemen " number eight, 
 second floor. Hotel clerks are men of large experi- 
 ence in certain directions; hence, notwithstanding 
 the late hour, and the fact that the guests were 
 boys without luggage, the aroused official was so 
 taken with the honest little faces before him that 
 he allowed them the privileges of the house without 
 further investigation. 
 
 I am bound to say, though, that our two friends 
 availed themselves of a privilege not ordinarily ac- 
 corded to travellers. 
 
 No sooner had the bell boy left them in possession 
 of their room than Tom picked up a pillow from the 
 bed and proposed a game of "catch." Stationing 
 themselves at opposite corners, the two tossed the 
 pillow gently at first, till, growing interested in their 
 work, they threw with not a little energy. As an 
 agreeable variety, Tom got the other pillow, and 
 before long they came to a genuine pillow-fight, 
 hurling their downy missiles, and dodging about in 
 a manner that sent the blood to their cheeks and 
 caused their eyes to dance with excitement. The 
 boy who has no heart for pillow-fighting is fit for
 
 144 TOM PLAYFA1K. 
 
 treasons, stratagems, and spoils; let no such boy be 
 trusted. 
 
 The contest waxed fiercer that is, merrier each 
 moment. Finally, Tom, pillow in hand, charged upon 
 Arthur. There was a rapid interchange of blows, 
 much movement and noise of little feet, and a sway- 
 ing from side to side of the room, till at length 
 with a well-directed blow Tom sent his antagonist 
 sprawling upon the bed. 
 
 It was then they noticed for the first time that some 
 one was gently knocking at the door. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Arthur, turning pale, " we're in for it 
 now." 
 
 Tom threw the door open and found himself facing 
 a mild-eyed old gentleman, who seemed to be far 
 more frightened than Arthur. 
 
 " Good evening, sir. Won't you walk in ?" 
 
 '* I beg your pardon, young sir; but I thought there 
 was a murder or something going on in this room. 
 I live next door, and I was awakened a few minutes 
 ago by a noise as of people struggling for life." 
 
 "It wasn't that bad, sir. There was a struggle; 
 but it wasn't for life. My friend over there on the 
 bed," added Tom, wickedly, "is very noisy." 
 
 The old gentleman now understood the situation; 
 the light that shot from his eye and the smile that 
 curled about his lips evinced that he too had been a 
 boy in the golden long ago. 
 
 " Well, young sir, may I ask you as a favor not to 
 make any more noise to-night ? We old people can't 
 afford to lose our sleep." 
 
 "Certainly, sir; honest, I didn't think about wak- 
 ing people up. I'll behave till morning, sir; good- 
 night."
 
 TOM PLA YFA1R. 145 
 
 " Good -night, young sir," answered the gentleman 
 smiling benevolently, "and God bless you!" 
 
 " What a pity," said Tom as the door closed, " that 
 he's grown up! He must have been a jolly boy." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," assented Arthur. 
 
 " It's the old story, Arthur; folks get spoiled once 
 they grow up. They haven't right ideas about fun. 
 Now, if that old gentleman had been a boy, he'd have 
 come rushing in with his pillow." 
 
 "Yes," assented Arthur; "and if all the people in 
 the hotel had been boys, they'd all have rushed in 
 with their pillows." 
 
 " Just so ; and we'd have had a gorgeous time. It's 
 a mistake for people to live long. It seems to me if 
 a boy's good, the best thing he can do is to die when 
 he's sixteen or seventeen. Of course, if he's a sin- 
 ner, it's right for him to live and take his punish- 
 ment like a man." 
 
 " Where did you get that idea, Tom ? " 
 
 "I don't know, but I've thought about it lots the 
 last few days. You see, if a boy doesn't do any- 
 thing real bad, he's bound to be pretty happy; then 
 he dies and goes to heaven, where there's just no end 
 of fun, and gets saved hearing all that stuff about 
 elections and stocks and bonds." 
 
 "Some boys have awful troubles, Tom." 
 
 " Well, the sooner they get to heaven the better. 
 Just the same, I'm not anxious to die yet. I want 
 to make my First Communion. There were two 
 friends of mine, Arthur, struck down dead; but it 
 was on the First Friday and both were speaking 
 about having gone to Communion that very day. 
 They're all right. Come, let's say our prayers, and 
 then when we get to bed I'll tell you all about it." 
 10
 
 14 TOM PLA YFAtR. 
 
 And before these two lads went to sleep, they had 
 built in the intimacy of an hour a friendship which 
 we older folk find to be the work of many years. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM ENTERS UPON A CAREER OF EXTRAVA- 
 GANCE. 
 
 WHEN Arthur awoke next morning, he stared in 
 no little surprise at Tom, who was standing 
 before a mirror and surveying himself with evident 
 complacency. 
 
 " Why, Tom ! " he called out, " are you a real boy ? 
 or is the whole thing a dream ? " 
 
 " Yes, " answered Tom, with his customary modesty, 
 " it's a sure thing that I'm a real boy. What are you 
 staring at ? " 
 
 " But you've got my clothes on." 
 
 " Yes ; don't I look fine in them ? " 
 
 " You'd look well in anything, Tom. But in the 
 mean time, how am I to dress ? " 
 
 " Take mine," came the sententious answer, as Tom 
 turned his back to the mirror and craned his neck 
 in a vain effort to see how he looked from that point 
 of view. 
 
 " No, I won't, Tom; you've been too good to me 
 already. I'll not take another thing from you." 
 
 "All right; if you don't put those clothes on, 
 you'll have to stay in bed for a while. I'm going to 
 leave in about ten minutes." 
 
 "I won't put them on." 
 
 "You've got to. See here, didn't you tell me last 
 night that you'd take my advice ? "
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 147 
 
 "Yes; but then you know- 
 
 " Never mind the rest. My first advice is to put 
 on those togs of mine. They're a pretty good suit; 
 but I've another suit along with me that's just as 
 good." 
 
 Tom, as usual, had his way, and waxed enthusias- 
 tic over his new friend's appearance. 
 
 " My ! Arthur, but you look splendid. You see, 
 you're rather skinny, and your own suit made it plain 
 to everybody. Now you look like a young swell." 
 
 Indeed, Arthur's appearance had really improved. 
 Even his face had changed for the better. The eyes 
 shone with a joyous twinkle; the lines of misery and 
 distress had softened; the refinement and delicacy 
 of expression were now quite noticeable. 
 
 Two months upon the streets! Who would believe 
 it of that gentle boy ? Doubtless Arthur's guardian 
 angel could have explained the mystery, and into 
 that explanation would have largely entered the 
 sweet prayers and tender sympathy and elevating 
 influence of a dear little sister's love. 
 
 Tom did not hear any guardian angel say this, but 
 it came home to him, all the same, as he gazed upon 
 Arthur, who was blushing under his scrutiny. 
 
 "Arthur," he added aloud, "I want your sister to 
 see you in good form. It will do her more good 
 than all the quinine and paregoric in the world, when 
 you walk in on her the way you are now. We'll get 
 breakfast right away, and then you'll bring me down 
 to the depot, so's I can find my way to uncle's, and 
 we'll shake hands for a while. Then to-morrow 
 you'll come and pay me a visit." 
 
 "That's a nice plan, Tom; but you must come 
 and see my sister first."
 
 i4& TOM PLAYFAI&. 
 
 " Me! " exclaimed Tom, shocked into the objectives 
 case. " Why it would spoil the whole plan. There'd 
 be no fun at all, when she'd see me rigged out in 
 your clothes." 
 
 "I'll tell her anyhow, even if you don't come; 
 and I'll fetch her round to see you, too. It's my 
 turn now to have my way. You've got to come." 
 
 "But I never talk to girls. I don't even know 
 how it's done." 
 
 "Pshaw! that's nothing. You know she's almost 
 a baby. " 
 
 " I don't like babies," said Tom, growing eloquent. 
 "One baby looks just the same as another; and if 
 you don't say a baby looks just like its pa, its 
 mamma gets mad. Then babies don't do anything 
 but scream and eat. They've no hair and no teeth 
 and no sense. The only thing good about a baby is 
 that it doesn't stay that way forever. It grows into 
 something: but it's tiresome waiting." 
 
 " Kate has a full head of hair, a set of teeth, and 
 lots of sense for her age. Now, Tom, I'll feel really 
 miserable if you don't come." 
 
 Tom sighed. 
 
 " She's only nine ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Just nine a few months ago." 
 
 "Well, I'll go, Arthur." 
 
 Then Arthur wrung his hand and so beamed over 
 with joy that Tom became fully reconciled to what 
 he considered the coming ordeal. 
 
 And an ordeal it promised to be from the very 
 start. For when, an hour later, the two, having fin- 
 ished their breakfast, entered the hospital, and were 
 walking along a vast corridor, a little girl with stream- . 
 ing hair and shining eyes came running toward them.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 149 
 
 "O Arthur," she cried, dashing straight at Tom, 
 who ducked very cleverly, and looked as sheepish as 
 it was possible for him to look, while the girl checked 
 herself and sprang back, blushing, and Arthur shook 
 with suppressed laughter. 
 
 " I eh eh it's the other fellow, I think," 
 blurted Tom. 
 
 And the " other fellow " with great tact put an end 
 to the awkwardness of the situation by catching little 
 sister and saluting her in true brotherly fashion. 
 
 "And now, Katie," he said archly, "let me intro- 
 duce you to the boy you were throwing yourself at. 
 He's the best " 
 
 "Oh, I say," broke in Tom, "you needn't begin 
 that way; it's bad enough. I'm Tom Playfair and 
 you're Kate Vane. How d'e do, Kate?" And Tom 
 shook hands with some return of his ordinary cool- 
 ness. 
 
 "O Mr. Playfair " 
 
 "Tom," interpolated the young gentleman in 
 patched attire. 
 
 "Tom," she went on, accepting the correction; 
 "but I really thought you were brother Arthur." 
 
 "Oh, it's all right now," said Tom. "I'm not 
 used to being taken for a brother. You see I never 
 had any sisters; and that's why I got so nervous." 
 
 And then, despite our hero's protests, Arthur in- 
 sisted upon describing at length the adventures of 
 the preceding night. It was an awkward time for 
 Tom. But, as he sat in the neatly-appointed room 
 into which Kate had conducted them, he bore it with 
 what meekness he could summon for the occasion. 
 
 The little child who faced him was very like Arthur, 
 with a beautiful and refined face, but so pale and
 
 *5<* TOM PLA YFAIR. v 
 
 thin! Sickness had stolen the rosy hue of health, 
 and left in its stead a pallor upon the delicate fea- 
 tures; sickness had worn away the rounded cheeks 
 till the face, lighted by large, beautiful eyes, was such 
 as lofty-minded artists dream and ponder, but fail to 
 reproduce as angel forms. 
 
 "Tom," said Kate, when Arthur had come to an 
 end, " I dreamed last night that St. Joseph was going 
 to help me and brother Arthur." 
 
 "She carries his statue in her pocket," whispered 
 Arthur, "and prays to him often." 
 
 " I wish you'd pray to him, Kate, to get me out 
 of trouble. I'm lost and I think my uncle will 
 make it pretty hot for me. He gets mad so easily! " 
 
 " My dream has come true, like in a fairy book. 
 Do you like fairy stories ? I do. And, Arthur, you 
 look so well now. And I ' ve got some good news, too. " 
 
 " What ? " cried Arthur. 
 
 "Guess." 
 
 "A situation for me." 
 
 "Guess again. It's a letter." 
 
 " Who from ? " 
 
 "From a lady in Danesville. " 
 
 "Danesville! That's where our uncle Archer used 
 to live." 
 
 "You're getting hot, Arthur. What do you think 
 it says ? " 
 
 "Come on and tell me." 
 
 While brother and sister were speaking, Tom drew 
 a railroad time-table from his pocket, and began 
 running his eye over it. 
 
 " It says that Uncle Archer is the nicest man, and 
 oh, such a lot of things. Here, read it, Arthur." 
 And Kate produced a letter.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 151 
 
 " Why," exclaimed Arthur, glancing at the super- 
 scription, "this is a letter to Sister Alexia." 
 
 " You didn't guess that. Yes; she wrote without 
 saying anything to me; and, and why don't you 
 read it ? " 
 
 " Listen, Tom ; you know our story. 
 
 " DEAR SISTER ALEXIA: 
 
 " There is a Mr. Archer in Danesville a Mr. F. W. 
 Archer." 
 
 "There, now! He isn't in California," exclaimed 
 Kate, her eyes dancing. 
 
 " He is in comfortable circumstances, and as good as he is 
 wealthy. Everybody esteems him. He is now past middle age, 
 has an excellent wife, but lost his two beautiful children, a boy of 
 three and another of five, two years ago on a trip to California. 
 His wife is a very sweet woman and very affectionate. They had 
 intended on leaving for California to remain there; but the loss of 
 their two children brought them back to Danesville. Their 
 residence is 240 Lombard St." 
 
 "Why, Kate," exclaimed Arthur, "this is news. 
 It's almost too good to be true. Danesville is in this 
 State, and and " 
 
 " Didn't mamma say that her brother was the best 
 of men? " broke in Kate. " And now we're going to 
 see him soon." 
 
 "Kate, I'll tell you a secret. When papa was 
 dying, he told me to take you to our uncle in Los 
 Angeles. But after the funeral we didn't have 
 enough money, and I thought it awful hard. But 
 now it's best we didn't go. I never told you papa's 
 order." 
 
 "Halloa!" said Tom. "Here we are. Danes- 
 ville is on the road between here and St. Mary's 
 one hundred and twenty miles from Cincinnati."
 
 152 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 " How many days will it take to get there ? " asked 
 Kate, eagerly. 
 
 "Days! You don't expect to go there by street- 
 car, do you ? It won't take more than six hours, and 
 there's a train starts at half-past eleven this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "O Arthur!" And Kate clasped her hands and 
 looked anxiously at her brother. 
 
 " The next question," pursued Tom, " is, how much 
 have you two got? " 
 
 "I've fifteen cents and a quarter with a hole in 
 it," answered Kate. 
 
 "And I," said her brother, "have eighty-five 
 cents." 
 
 "Well, I happen to be well off just now, and I 
 really didn't know what to do with my money. Now, 
 little girl, you just go and pack up your clothes and 
 dolls and things like that; and if you don't hurry 
 up about it you'll miss the train." 
 
 "Tom," said Arthur, "how'll you find your way 
 to your 'uncle ?" 
 
 "Oh, there'll be no trouble about that. Once I 
 get to the depot where I came in, I can easily find 
 my way to the street-car uncle took, and I know just 
 where he got off. " 
 
 "But, Tom, where'll I write to you, to tell you 
 how everything turns out ? " 
 
 " Send your letter to the Burnet House; afterward 
 I'll send you my address." 
 
 In due time preparations for departure were com- 
 pleted. Tom took possession of Kate's valise it 
 was very light; witnessed an affecting parting scene 
 between the nuns and the little girl; and before 
 brother and sister could fairly realize what a change
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 153 
 
 had come in their prospects, he had made arrange- 
 ments for their tickets and seats in the parlor car, 
 and given the colored porter directions concerning 
 the little travellers which rather astonished that func- 
 tionary. 
 
 Kate and Arthur cried on bidding their protector 
 good-bye, and our generous friend experienced a dim- 
 ness about the eyes himself, as he stood at the pas- 
 senger entrance and waved his hand in farewell. 
 
 Tom and Arthur were not to meet again for several 
 years. But their friendship defied separation. Two 
 days later Tom received a letter from Arthur, en- 
 closing twenty-five dollars, and giving a giowing 
 account of the cordial reception accorded them by 
 his uncle. With this letter came a note from Mr. 
 Archer himself, containing such warm expressions of 
 gratitude as made Tom blush at every line. The 
 correspondence thus begun continued for years, until 
 Tom and Arthur met well that belongs to another 
 story. 
 
 So it was that our hero left the depot light of 
 pocket and light of heart. He had but one dollar 
 left of the twenty-five given him by his father. He 
 took it out and gazed at it. 
 
 "Well, I've had fifty dollars' worth of fun; and 
 now I'll go and buy a dinner, and after that I'll go 
 back to Uncle Meadow; and for the rest of my stay 
 here I reckon I'll have to be poor and honest." 
 
 With a sigh, Tom entered an oyster parlor; and 
 when he came forth he had five cents left for car fare.
 
 154 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE PRODIGAL RETURNS. 
 
 IT is nigh upon four of the afternoon. Mr. Meadow 
 is pacing up and down the front apartment of 
 his suite of rooms, taking huge strides, occasionally 
 striking his clenched hands upon an unoffensive table 
 bordering the line of his route, and ever and anon 
 stopping to glance savagely out of window. Mr. 
 Meadow mutters now and then between his clenched 
 teeth words which are mostly profanity and severe 
 criticisms of his lost nephew. In short, Mr. Meadow 
 is very angry. 
 
 "I'll cowhide the wretched little brat within an 
 inch of his life if I ever get my hands on him. " This 
 remark, with the adjectives a trifle stronger than 
 here set down, issued from his lips as the last stroke 
 of four came ringing through the air from a neigh- 
 boring church, and Mr. Meadow made his periodical 
 pause at the window front. 
 
 This time he gave a sudden gasp, his eyes bulged 
 from his head, as far as the economy of his bodily 
 frame would allow, and he did stare. 
 
 He recovered himself by a strong effort, made a 
 remark which shall not be repeated, then dashed 
 down the stairway, threw the front door open with 
 vicious and unnecessary violence, and 
 
 Could that be Tom ? The figure walking up the 
 front steps looked more like a young beggar, and a 
 very disreputable young beggar at that. Arthur
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 1$$ 
 
 Vane in his proper costume looked like a gentleman 
 in comparison with Tom's present appearance. Ar- 
 thur's hat on Arthur's head had at least been in 
 shape on Tom's it was crushed as though it had 
 been used as a substitute for a football. On Arthur 
 the clothes, though patched, had been neat; on 
 Tom they were splashed with mud, while one patch 
 on the knee was torn, and a deep rent under the 
 armpit revealed what kind of a shirt Tom was wear- 
 ing. But the wretchedness of his appearance did 
 not end with his garb. His face was swollen and 
 discolored; and his upper lip was puffed out to a 
 ridiculous degree. Mr. Meadow had seen Tom in 
 many a sad plight, but the limit was reached on this 
 occasion. 
 
 "You brat! you vulgar little beggar," roared the 
 uncle, with an extra adjective, "come right in, and 
 I'll lash you with a cowhide." 
 
 Tom paused half way up the steps, and tried to 
 smile. It was an awful failure. Probably he was 
 willing enough to smile, but his upper lip, the most 
 important part of his smiling apparatus, refused to 
 do its duty: and so instead of smiling he succeeded 
 in distorting his face still more. 
 
 "Thanks, uncle," he made answer. "But I gues 
 I'll not come in. I've been walloped enough." 
 
 " Have you been fighting, you vulgar little gutter- 
 snipe ? " continued the enraged uncle. 
 
 "Yes, uncle," answered the " vulgar little gutter- 
 snipe," backing down a few steps in preparation to 
 take to his heels should need arise, " but I couldn't 
 help it, honest." 
 
 " Who whipped ? " 
 
 Mr. Meadow was a sporting man; his weakness
 
 156 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 asserted itself, and Tom was quick to see his 
 chance. 
 
 " See here, uncle, if you promise not to touch me, 
 I'll tell you -all about it." 
 
 " You young beggar, what did you do with your 
 own clothes ? " 
 
 " Promise not to whip me, uncle, and I'll tell you 
 all about it." 
 
 " Were you robbed ? " 
 
 " No; but all my money's gone, seventeen dollars 
 and a half." 
 
 " Were you robbed ? " 
 
 " Promise not to whip me, uncle, and I'll tell you 
 all about it. It's as good as a story." 
 
 Mr. Meadow took a step forward ; Tom as quickly 
 moved down to the foot of the steps. 
 
 "Stay where you are, uncle, or I'll run." 
 
 "Where did you go last night ?" continued Mr. 
 Meadow, less savagely, for the humor of the situa- 
 tion was making its impression even upon him. 
 
 "Promise not to whip me," answered Tom, firmly. 
 
 "I'll see about that after I've heard your story." 
 
 " Honest, uncle ? " 
 
 "Yes, honest." 
 
 " You won't whip me till I tell my story ? " 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " Cross your heart, uncle ? " 
 
 "Confound you! yes." 
 
 " All right, then." And Tom ran up the steps with 
 his usual spryness. 
 
 "Now, uncle, let me wash first; I feel awful 
 sticky. " 
 
 Mr. Meadow deigned to supply the young gentle- 
 man with a basin of water. Tom threw off his coat,
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. itf 
 
 rolled back his shirt sleeves, and kept up a severe 
 process of bathing for fifteen minutes without saying 
 a single word. 
 
 "Well," snapped his uncle, impatiently, "who won 
 the fight ? " 
 
 "Oh, I've got to change my clothes yet. These 
 things are spoiled from Cincinnati mud. Wherever 
 there was a puddle. I was sure to step right into it. 
 You see, uncle, I was chased." 
 
 " Who chased you? " 
 
 "Two dogs and oh, wait till I change." 
 
 Mr. Meadow had to content himself for the next 
 five minutes with grinding out remarks between his 
 teeth, which, through a sense of decency, he did not 
 wish to find way to Tom's ears. 
 
 At length Tom was apparently ready for his re- 
 cital. With the exception of his face, he looked like 
 the boy of yesterday and the day before. 
 
 "Well, now, let's hear your story." 
 
 Tom took a sponge from his valise, wet it and put 
 it to his lip. 
 
 "Ah!" he sighed in relief; "that's just the thing." 
 
 " Did you hear me, sir ? " 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon. You want the story ? " 
 
 "That's what I said." 
 
 " And you remember your promise, uncle ? " 
 
 " Yes, you brat ! " 
 
 "You needn't call names. Well, uncle, I'm not 
 going to tell you my story ; then you can't whip me. " 
 And he removed his sponge and smiled hideously. 
 
 Mr. Meadow bounded from his chair; Tom made 
 for the door. 
 
 "Will you keep your promise ? " he asked with his 
 hand on the knob.
 
 158 TOM PLA YFAlti. 
 
 "Yes; come in; I'll not touch you. Go ahead 
 with your story: I promise not to whip you in any 
 case." 
 
 "Ah! that's a bargain. You know, uncle, papa 
 doesn't want you to whip me; so I thought it was 
 
 fair to get ahead of you. Well, last night " and 
 
 Tom then narrated his adventures up to the moment 
 of his leaving the oyster-house with five cents for 
 car fare. 
 
 "And then, uncle," he contiuned, "I thought how 
 I could best please you." 
 
 "What exquisite consideration," growled the au- 
 ditor. 
 
 "Wasn't it, uncle ? I knew you wouldn't like me 
 to come back without a cent in my pocket; and be- 
 sides I was afraid you might call me a lot of names, 
 and lose your temper and you did, uncle. You 
 swore dreadfully, and you said " 
 
 "Go on with your story," growled the affectionate 
 young man. "Tell me about the fight." 
 
 "I'm coming to it, sir. Well, then, I started to 
 walk home along the street where those cars ran that 
 we took yesterday. You see, uncle, I'd made up my 
 mind to save that nickel." 
 
 "You've wonderful ideas of economy," snarled 
 Mr. Meadow, in parentheses. 
 
 "Well, when I'd walked about two squares I came 
 to an alley. It was an awful rough-looking place, 
 uncle. There were three fellows leaning against a 
 house on the alley corner when I came along; and 
 before I knew where I was, they'd got on the out- 
 side of me, and shut me into that alley. I never 
 saw three rougher-looking boys since I gave up going 
 to fires."
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 159 
 
 "And did you knock 'em all down ?" 
 
 "Huh!! The wonder is they didn't knock me 
 down first thing. The middle fellow seemed to be 
 the ringleader. He was the smallest, about my size. 
 He had two teeth that stuck out so's you could count 
 'em without trying. They were his higher teeth." 
 
 "Upper, you barbarian," corrected Mr. Meadow. 
 
 " Exactly. They were large teeth ; larger than 
 yours, uncle, I really do " 
 
 " Go on, will you ? " 
 
 " Why don't you give me a chance? This isn't 
 a grammar class. Well, the fellow with the big teeth 
 said, 'Say, gimme chaw terbacker. ' ' 
 
 " And did you hit him ? " 
 
 Tom looked at his uncle reproachfully. 
 
 " Do you think I'm a fool ? I said that I couldn't 
 speak French, and the other two giggled. Then he 
 looked so that I could count Jive teeth, and said in 
 an awful savage way just the way you were talk- 
 ing to me a minute ago, when " 
 
 " What did he say ? " burst in the excited listener. 
 
 "He said 'Gimme chaw terbacker.' And then he 
 used some words something like what you " 
 
 " Go on what did you do? " 
 
 "I said, 'I don't talk German either,' and then 
 before I could guess what he was up to he gave me 
 an awful whack on the lip, and he struck out again. 
 I dodged the second blow, and I got so excited that 
 like a fool I struck back with all my might, and he 
 went sprawling. I struck him on the mouth, uncle, 
 and when he got up he was spitting and coughing, 
 and I could only count one tooth." 
 
 " And what did you do then ? " 
 
 " I couldn't do anything, uncle. The other two
 
 160 TOM 
 
 grabbed me tight, and while the fellow who used to 
 have a loose tooth was choking and hopping round, 
 and swearing whenever he could get his breath, the 
 other two went through my pockets and got the silk 
 handkerchief Aunt Meadow sent me on my birthday, 
 a small magnet, a pocket-knife, a lot of string, a 
 broken jew's-harp, and my last nickel." 
 " And didn't you make any resistance ? " 
 " I squirmed and wriggled round, and when they'd 
 emptied all my pockets, I ran as fast as I could till 
 I turned the corner. And then I began to feel awful 
 bad about that nickel. It was real hard to have to 
 come home without it, so I turned back quietly, and 
 walked into a drug-store on the opposite side of the 
 street. I sneaked in while they weren't looking that 
 way. The drug-store had a big window looking out 
 so's you could see into that alley for a whole block. 
 I told the drug-store man that I felt sick, and that 
 I'd like to sit down in his store for a while. He 
 laughed when he looked at me, and said, 'All-right.' 
 Then I pulled a chair over to the window, and 
 watched those three fellows for over fifteen minutes. 
 They were fussing just awfully about the handker- 
 chief. The fellow with the tooth didn't get that. 
 Then they had a row about the knife, and the fellow 
 with the tooth came near having it knocked out and 
 he didn't get the knife anyhow. They gave him the 
 string and the jew's-harp; and then they had an awful 
 row about the nickel. They tossed it up and yelled 
 'Heads ' and 'Tails,' and shouted, and I don't know 
 what all, till somehow or other the fellow with the 
 tooth got that. You ought to have seen him. He 
 jumped into the air and knocked his heels together
 
 TOM PLAYFAtR. l6l 
 
 three times, and started out of the alley, just as proud 
 as though he were a millionaire." 
 
 " And what did you do ? " 
 
 "I followed after him quietly; and when he'd got 
 off about a square from the alley on a big crowded 
 street, I caught up with him, and touched him on 
 the shoulder. He gave a little jump, but he didn't 
 knock his heels together this time. ' See here, ' I said, 
 'give me back my nickel or I'll yell for a policeman.' 
 He put on a savage look, and said, 'Don't yer fool 
 wid me, or I'll fetch yer one on de ear,' and I said, 
 'If you do, I'll loosen your other tooth, and yell for 
 the policeman too. Now handover, or I'll shout.' 
 He looked around, and sure enough there was a 
 policeman turning the corner. He got pale, and 
 handed over that nickel." 
 
 "That wasn't bad," commented Mr. Meadow, for- 
 getting his resolution to be stern and uncompromising 
 with the young scapegrace. " Then, of course, you 
 started to find your way back." 
 
 " No, uncle ; I began to think how bad Aunt 
 Meadow would feel when she learned what had be- 
 come of her pretty Christmas present, and how bad 
 you'd feel about that old knife which you gave me 
 the time you bought a new one." 
 
 "Don't be sentimental," growled Mr. Meadow, in 
 disgust. 
 
 Tom stared. 
 
 " So I thought I'd go back, and see what were my 
 chances for the old knife and the pretty handker- 
 chief. When I got there, it all seemed to be arranged 
 just the way I wanted it. The two fellows were 
 squatting down on a board about twenty feet in the 
 alley, playing at mumble-peg with my knife ; and the 
 
 IX
 
 it* TOM PLA 
 
 fellow who was farthest had my nice handkerchief 
 flying round his neck. They were bigger than I; 
 but I saw a good chance. I didn't stop to stare, but 
 came running up softly while both had their heads 
 down watching their game, and grabbed that hand- 
 kerchief, and kept running right on through the alley 
 without stopping to say anything." 
 
 " Good! " said Mr. Meadow, unable to contain his 
 enthusiasm. "Goon." 
 
 "Well, they gave a yell, and before I'd got half 
 way down the alley there was a rushing out of 
 people from back gates, and two dogs came flying at 
 my legs, and a billy-goat got right in my way and 
 would have broken my neck if I hadn't jumped over 
 him, and the dogs barked and snapped, and the boys 
 kept yelling, and the people kept crowding out, and 
 just as I got to the corner of the alley, a lot of 
 stones and things came sailing after me, and a pebble 
 or something hit me on the leg, and then I went into 
 an awful puddle, and came plump against a boy with 
 red hair, and sent him sprawling." 
 
 Here Tom lost his breath. 
 
 "I don't know how I ever got out of that alley 
 alive. The last thing I did was to kick a bull-pup 
 in the ribs; he howled like he was crazy, and then I 
 was half way up the street. I looked round then, 
 and found that they weren't chasing me. Then I 
 got off some of the mud and started for home. And 
 now, uncle, I'm sorry and awful hungry." 
 
 And Tom looked at Mr. Meadow pathetically. 
 "Hand over that nickel, young man." For the 
 first time since his return, the prodigal lost counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "I haven't got it, uncle."
 
 TOM PLA VFAIS. 163 
 
 "Oh, you spent that too." 
 
 "No, sir, I er I gave it away." 
 
 Tom had become very nervous and awkward. 
 
 " Whom did you give it to? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Did you hear me ? " 
 
 " To a poor fellow I met. Come on, uncle, and 
 get me something to eat." 
 
 Tom did not reveal the whole story; there was 
 some modesty in his composition. 
 
 When the " boy with the tooth " had surrendered 
 the nickel to its proper owner, Tom had noticed the 
 sullen face of the poor wretch lengthen in disappoint- 
 ment. In a flash the words recorded in the sole 
 entry in his diary, " Vinegar never catches flies," re- 
 curred to him. He ran up to the boy, who, with his 
 shoulders raised and his head depressed, was creep- 
 ing away, and touched him lightly again. 
 
 "Keep off," cried the fellow, with a snarl: "you 
 and me's quits." 
 
 " No, we're not," said Tom. "Old fellow, you 
 need this nickel more than I do," and he pressed it 
 into the lad's hand. "It's all I've got with me; 
 but I wish it was more, and I'm sorry about that 
 tooth of yours." 
 
 As Tom turned away, he left the poor little wretch 
 gasping, mouth and eyes wide open, and the little 
 brain within pondering over the only sermon that 
 had ever came home to it. 
 
 Tom walked on, light of heart and happy. 
 
 "It can't do him any harm," he reflected, "and 
 maybe it'll do him good." 
 
 Then some one touched his shoulder. 
 
 "Say," exclaimed the toothless one, almost out of
 
 164 TOM PLA 
 
 breath, for he had had some trouble in picking Tom 
 out of the crowd, "say, Johnnie, I'll never act dat 
 way again never. Do ye catch on ? " 
 
 It was in order for Tom to improve the occasion 
 by saying something pious and edifying. But Tom 
 didn't follow the traditions of the book. He merely 
 grinned, gave his penitent a hearty hand-squeeze, 
 and said not one word. 
 
 This part of the story, as I said, he concealed from 
 Mr. Meadow. But that gentleman inferred some- 
 thing of it, and was so pleased with his inference 
 that he gave Tom but a quarter of an hour's scold- 
 ing which he salved with a twenty-five-cent piece 
 and a good dinner. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM ASTONISHES AND HORRIFIES HIS AUNT. 
 
 IT is ten of the night. Tom has just arisen from 
 his knees, and seems to find some difficulty in 
 divesting himself of his sailor shirt. He is gazing 
 very hard at Mr. Meadow through a sort of lattice- 
 work formed by the bosom of his shirt, which is now 
 concealing his little head. In this dramatic attitude 
 he stands till Mr. Meadow gets into bed. Then Tom 
 with a jerk brings the shirt back to its normal posi- 
 tion on his shoulders, and says: 
 
 "Uncle, you've forgot something." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Why you forgot to kneel down before going to 
 bed. You didn't used to do that when we lived in 
 St. Louis. Hop out and kneel down."
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 165 
 
 "Mind your business, young man." 
 
 In answer to which Tom sat down on a chair and 
 began to whistle softly. 
 
 "Stop that noise and come to bed." 
 
 Tom ceased his whistling, arose, walked over to 
 the sofa, and, throwing an overcoat about himself, 
 lay back with his eyes fixed upon Mr. Meadow's as- 
 tonished face. 
 
 Then there was a long pause, during which the 
 recumbent uncle and nephew looked at each other 
 steadily. 
 
 " What are you staring at ? " growled Mr. Meadow, 
 raising his head and leaning upon his elbow. 
 
 "I'm taking in your night-cap, uncle. It makes 
 you look so funny." 
 
 " Get off that sofa and come to bed." 
 
 "Not in that bed." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " You didn't say your prayers. Suppose the Devil 
 were to come round to-night: he might get things 
 mixed up, and take me for you. Then there'd be a 
 pretty how-de-do." 
 
 Tom was not entirely m earnest, but he spoke with 
 funereal gravity. 
 
 " If you don't come to bed, sir, I'll report you to 
 your father." 
 
 Tom sighed. Mr. Meadow had hit upon the best 
 means of subduing him. He arose from the sofa, 
 slowly undressed, then going to his valise took out a 
 bottle containing holy water, which he proceeded to 
 sprinkle over the bed, incidentally dousing the aston- 
 ished countenance of his uncle. 
 
 Then with another sigh he retired. He intended 
 to sigh for a third time once he had composed him,'
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 self for slumber, but he fell asleep before the time 
 came for carrying out this pious intention. 
 
 Tom was unusually docile on this occasion. But 
 Mr. Meadow's threat was not an idle one. That 
 very day a telegram had reached them, announcing 
 the coming on the morrow of Mr. Playfair and Aunt 
 Meadow. The one person in the world whom Tom 
 feared was his father; and he still remembeied, viv- 
 idly too, their painful encounter, touched upon, or 
 rather glossed over, in Chapter II. 
 
 Next morning, accordingly, Mr. Playfair and Miss 
 Meadow arrived. 
 
 Mr. Playfair unbent so far as to give his little boy 
 a paternal kiss; but his aunt's greeting was so warm 
 as to disarrange her toilet very considerably. Then 
 holding her darling nephew at arm's length, she 
 anxiously scanned his features. 
 
 "Tommy, dear," she exclaimed at length, "you 
 must have received an awful shock." 
 
 "No, I didn't, aunt, it was just nothing at all. I 
 fell down all of a heap, and picked myself up as 
 good as new. " 
 
 Tom made light of the matter; he knew his aunt 
 from of old, and he had no intention of being plied 
 with family medicines for a week. 
 
 " Roll down your stocking, Tommy, I must see 
 where you've been burnt." 
 
 " Do you take me for a tattooed man ? " exclaimed 
 the young gentleman indignantly. 
 
 "Pull down your stocking," said Mr. Playfair. 
 
 And when Tom with commendable promptness 
 exhibited the red mark, as of a branding-iron, upon 
 his calf, Miss Meadow pulled out her handkerchief 
 and began to cry. Poor, gentle lady!
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. i6j 
 
 "Oh, I say, Aunt Jane, don't," exclaimed Tom, 
 earnestly. He was a warm-hearted little fellow, and 
 under a boyish mask of levity concealed the great 
 love he bore his aunt. 
 
 In answer to this remonstrance, she threw her arms 
 about him- again, and renewed the kissing and hug- 
 ging till he blushed as a red, red rose. 
 
 "Why doesn't somebody take notice of me that 
 way ? " queried Mr. Meadow, who felt that he was 
 being ignored. 
 
 "I think I'll pull up my stocking," said Tom, now / 
 really embarrassed. " There's no use in making such 
 a fuss about it. People that cook get burnt a lot 
 worse, and don't say a word." 
 
 " Tommy, dear," resumed Miss Meadow, who, hav- 
 ing had her cry out, was now, after the manner of 
 her sex, thoroughly renewed, "you're not quite well 
 yet; you've lost color." 
 
 "Gracious!" exclaimed Tom, turning his face to 
 a looking-glass. " Aunt calls me pale, when my face 
 looks for all the world like like " 
 
 " A ham, or better still, an Indian in his war 
 paint," interpolated the agreeable young man of the 
 party. 
 
 "George Playfair," Miss Meadow went on, after 
 bestowing a withering glance upon her only brother. 
 * just look at your boy." 
 
 "I have been looking at him these last five mi- 
 ates, Jane." 
 
 " Can't you see that he's badly shaken ? " 
 
 " He was pretty badly shaken when you got hold 
 of him. But if you mean to say he's sick, I must 
 give it as my opinion that he never looked better in 
 his life,"
 
 1 68 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 " Men have no feelings," exclaimed Miss Meadow 
 with unusual bitterness. 
 
 " They can see through a millstone, *hough, when 
 there's a good-sized hole in it," said Mr. Meadow, 
 grinning at his own wi't. 
 
 " Now, Tommy, tell us all about that dreadful 
 night. By the way, Charles," she continued, ad- 
 dressing Mr. Meadow, " are there any lightning-rods 
 on this house?" 
 
 "Two." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "I should think that's enough." 
 
 "You can't have too many," continued Miss 
 Meadow. 
 
 "We might attach a lightning-rod to Tom," sug- 
 gested Mr. Playfair dryly. " He'd present an inter- 
 esting spectacle, going round with a lightning-rod 
 sticking out of his hat." 
 
 " George Playfair," exclaimed Miss Meadow, aris- 
 ing from her chair, "if you had any heart in you, 
 you wouldn't go jesting on that subject, after such 
 a terrific visitation!" 
 
 "Oh! if you wish, my dear, we'll have both light- 
 ning-rods removed from this house." 
 
 Miss Meadow gave him a look such a look ! 
 then turned to Tom, and, with many a question, 
 succeeded in extracting from her tortured nephe'V 
 some account of the calamity. 
 
 "Wasn't he brave!" she exclaimed, when he had 
 detailed his experiences in crossing the creek. " He 
 might have been drowned." And Miss Meadow 
 caught Tom to her arms again. 
 
 "If the boy had had any sense at all," said the
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 169 
 
 practical father, " he'd have felt around for that 
 bridge to begin with, instead of risking his life." 
 
 "Yes, Tom," added the genial uncle, "you were 
 a fool. By the way, that swimming adventure of 
 yours reminds me of " 
 
 Mr. Meadow was about to relate how he had once 
 saved a drowning companion by reaching him a 
 long pole from the bank, when he was interrup f ^d 
 by Tom's extraordinary gesticulations. For Tom 
 had at once raised both hands in air, and set his 
 fingers wriggling in a way that was little short of 
 dazzling. 
 
 "What's the matter?" exclaimed the narrator. 
 
 "Ten times," answered Tom. "You've told us 
 that story ten times in the last ten months. Give 
 us something new. " 
 
 Tom intended to be facetious, but his impertinence 
 offended his uncle, who forthwith proceeded to nar- 
 rate Tom's adventures in Cincinnati. 
 
 During the recital Mr. Playfair's brow clouded. 
 
 " I don't like it," he observed at the end. 
 
 "Don't like what?" cried the aunt. "Indeed, 
 sir, you don't know what a treasure you've got. 
 Few boys would give all their money and their best 
 suit of clothes in charity." 
 
 " Yes, and few boys who are supposed to be gen- 
 tlemen would stay out all night, and run into salooni 
 to sell papers." 
 
 "I forgot, pa." 
 
 "And," continued the stern father, whose very 
 love for his son made him a severe judge, " it's very 
 charitable to give away clothes and money, but 
 whose were they?"
 
 t?0 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 " You gave me the money, pa ; and, besides, I only 
 loaned it." 
 
 "And then," Mr. Playfair was resuming, but Miss 
 Meadow came to the rescue. 
 
 " Now, George, the idea of scolding your heroic 
 little boy after a separation of three months! You 
 know you'd have been sorry if Tom had acted any 
 way else. " 
 
 " No, I wouldn't, Jane. Tom should have gone 
 back to his uncle in the theatre " 
 
 "It wasn't much of a theatre, anyhow," put in 
 Tom, getting in return a savage scowl from his 
 uncle. 
 
 "And Charles would have taken care of the boy 
 without all this paper-selling and staying out all 
 night." 
 
 "Well, pa, I meant to do right." 
 
 "What's that place they say is paved with good 
 intentions?" asked Mr. Meadow. 
 
 "I'm sure you meant right, Tom, but you must 
 be careful. Remember you're getting ready for 
 your First Communion." 
 
 Mr. Playfair, it may be remarked, was somewhat 
 Jansenistic in his ideas. All during Mr. Meadow's 
 account of Tom, he had been deliberating whether 
 the boy were of a fit age and disposition for receiv- 
 ing the Blessed Sacrament. He loved his boy, but 
 did not understand him. 
 
 "By the way, Jane," he said, turning to Miss 
 Meadow, " if you wish to see your former school- 
 mate before dinner, we'd better start at once. Of 
 course you'll come with us, Tom." 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried Tom, regaining his spirits, 
 at this point Miss Meadow failed hirfl.
 
 TOM PLAY FAIR. 171 
 
 "Mr. Playfair!" she exclaimed dramatically, "will 
 you please look out that window ?" 
 
 "I'm tired looking out that window, Jane." 
 
 "And do you mean to say that you are willing to 
 expose your son's precious life in the face of a 
 blinding snow-storm?" 
 
 Miss Meadow was carried into exaggeration by 
 her anxiety for Tom's welfare. It was snowing 
 quite briskly, but by no means in such a way as to 
 merit her strong epithet. 
 
 " Pshaw!" cried Tom, " I ain't a girl." 
 
 "I don't see any particular risk," said the father. 
 
 " In his present debilitated state," continued Aunt 
 Jane firmly, " it would be absolute suicide to let 
 that boy put his foot beyond the threshold." 
 
 " Do you take me for a wax doll ?" growled Tom. 
 
 But, despite all protests, Miss Meadow had her 
 will. 
 
 Presenting her nephew with a box of candy and 
 the "History of Sandford and Merton,"and caution- 
 ing him to avoid all draughts and keep his feet 
 warm, the good little lady departed with Mr. Play- 
 fair and her amiable brother, leaving behind her a 
 very discontented young man indeed. 
 
 Tom spent fully half an hour munching candy 
 and reading the initial chapters of the story ; then 
 he closed the book with a snap. 
 
 "Those English boys must be queer fellows, if 
 they go round preaching sermons the way that 
 Sandford does.* I'm glad he doesn't go to St. 
 Maure's; he makes me tired." 
 
 That was the last of Sandford and Merton for 
 
 * Tom did the English boys injustice. Master Sandford, I 
 am told, exists in fiction, not in England.
 
 172 TOM PLAY FAIR. 
 
 Tom. He presented the precious volume, before 
 leaving Cincinnati, to the house cook. 
 
 The ensuing hour passed very slowly. He gave 
 most of the time to gazing ruefully out of the window, 
 with his nose flattened against the pane. The snow 
 continued to fall, and the street below had become 
 carpeted in white. Tiring even of this, he at length 
 took to standing on his head and turning somer- 
 saults; and he was thus putting himself into a hap- 
 pier frame of mind, when there came a ring at the 
 door. 
 
 Thinking that it was his father and aunt, he has- 
 tened to admit them himself; but instead of finding 
 his relations standing without, he opened the door 
 upon a very small boy, with a very weazen face and 
 a very large snow-shovel. 
 
 "Halloa!" said Tom. 
 
 "Would you like to have the snow shovelled off 
 your pavement, sir?" 
 
 "It isn't my pavement; and, besides, I'm not the 
 lady of the house," explained Tom. "But, if you 
 like, I'll go and ask her." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said the very small boy. 
 
 Tom returned presently, with the news that the 
 lady of the house would put her hired man at it, 
 later on. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," and the little boy touched his 
 cap and sniffled. 
 
 Tom was touched. 
 
 "I say, little chap, wont you take some candy?" 
 
 "Thank you, sir." The small boy received the 
 handful of caramels with a smile. 
 
 " How much do you charge for shovelling snow? 1 " 
 pursued Tom.
 
 TOM PLAYFAtti. i?3 
 
 " Twenty-five cents is the regular charge, I think, 
 sir." 
 
 " What's your charge ?" 
 
 " I don't know, exactly. I never tried before." 
 
 " How does fifty cents suit you ?" continued Tom, 
 spreading his feet and with his arms akimbo. 
 
 "That's too much." 
 
 " Not for you, though. You're not used to the 
 work, and it'll take you twice as long to do it as a 
 fellow who is used to. it. That's why I'll pay you 
 twice as much." 
 
 This was Tom's first expression of opinion in 
 political economy. 
 
 The very small boy was presently working away 
 with a will, while his smiling employer, standing in 
 the doorway, looked on with undisguised interest. 
 
 "Where's your gloves?" asked Tom, after a 
 silence of at least five minutes. 
 
 "I aint got any, sir." 
 
 "Here, " cried the employer, returning from the 
 hat-rack with his own, " come up here and put these 
 on." 
 
 "Please, sir, I don't want them, thank you." 
 
 He was a modest boy, this weazen-face. 
 
 " Who asked you whether you wanted them or not ? 
 You're in my employment now, and you've got to 
 do what you're told. Hop up here and put 'em on. 
 What's your name ?" continued Capital, as he handed 
 Labor the gloves. 
 
 " Fred Williams, sir." 
 
 " Call me Tom, or I'll discharge you. I like your 
 name. I knew a fellow named Fred once, and he 
 wasn't a bad sort of a chap, though he was an awful 
 blower."
 
 174 TOM PLAYPA18. 
 
 Fred smiled in an ancient way and, descending 
 the steps, resumed his work. One moment later, a 
 snowball took him on the back of the head. He 
 turned his face to the door, but Tom, who was 
 grinning behind it, was out of sight. 
 
 "I did it," said the honest but undignified em- 
 ployer, after a judicious interval, as he came running 
 down the steps. "Say, you're tired, aren't you?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "Yes, you are; let me catch hold of that shovel. 
 I'll bet I can manage it better than you." 
 
 Aghast, the employee yielded, and Tom put him- 
 self to shovelling till his back ached. He had 
 completely forgotten Aunt Meadow's injunctions. 
 
 "There!" he exclaimed, throwing a last shovelful 
 into the gutter, "now that's done for. Here's your 
 fifty cents, Fred." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Fred simply. "It's for 
 mamma." 
 
 "Take some more candy," said Tom. 
 
 "No, thank you. Good-bye, sir." 
 
 " Hold on ; let's have some fun." 
 
 Fred grinned. 
 
 " Just stand at that corner," continued Tom, " and 
 we'll peg at each other. You ought to get a chance 
 at me, because I hit you when you weren't looking, 
 you know." 
 
 "I'd like to, but mamma's sick and I want to 
 help her." 
 
 "If I had any more money," said Tom, "I'd get 
 you to clean off some more sidewalks; but I'm 
 dead broke." 
 
 1 The little boy was about to speak, when a sound 
 not unlike a scream startled the two lads.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. i?5 
 
 " Why, Tommy," continued Miss Meadow, turning 
 the corner with her brother-in-law, "you'll catch 
 your death of cold. Go into the house this very 
 instant. Aren't your stockings wet?" 
 
 "Of course they are ; I've been shovelling snow. 
 Say, aunt, ".he added in a low tone, as he brought 
 his mouth to her ear, "this little chap's got a sick 
 mother. Give him a dollar and I'll do anything 
 you like." 
 
 "You will? Then I'll give him two." 
 
 Tom's promise cost him a hot mustard bath, but 
 he bore it bravely for sweet charity's sake. 
 
 After supper, our hero actually did become ill. 
 
 He felt an uneasy feeling somewhere within, and 
 didn't know what to make of it. Like the young 
 Spartan with the fox gnawing at his vitals, he tried 
 to bear his misery with unchanged demeanor. Poor 
 boy! a week's feasting following hard upon a week's 
 fasting had been too much for him. 
 
 Miss Meadow, who had been watching him all 
 day with the eye of a detective, noticed a change in 
 his color. There was no imagination this time. 
 
 "Tommy, tell me the truth," she said, "you are 
 sick." 
 
 "It's here, aunt," said Tom, laying his hand 
 pathetically upon his stomach. 
 
 Whereupon Miss Meadow put him to bed, placed 
 a mustard plaster upon the place indicated, and, 
 seating herself beside her boy, held a watch before 
 her to time his misery. In ten minutes he began 
 wriggling. 
 
 "You've got to bear it, Tommy dear." 
 
 "I prefer the belly-ache," growled the impatient 
 invalid. He attempted to move his aunt by groans,
 
 1?6 TOM PLAY FA IK. 
 
 but she was obdurate. Then he begged for a glass 
 of water, determined, once his aunt had left the 
 room, to fling the wretched plaster out of the win- 
 dow. But Miss Meadow, with her eyes watching 
 his every motion, backed over to the door and called 
 out for water. 
 
 "I think, aunt, you'd better take that rag off," 
 implored Tom, when the watch had gone seventeen 
 minutes. "I'm perfectly well, honest; and that 
 thing's burning awfully." 
 
 But Miss Meadow mounted guard till twenty-five 
 minutes had elapsed. 
 
 He was cured. His aunt, bent on making assur- 
 ance doubly sure, now produced a box of pills; 
 however, when he protested, almost with tears in 
 his eyes, that he never felt better in his life, Miss 
 Meadow gave in. 
 
 When she returned to the room rather suddenly, a 
 few minutes later, she was horrified to find the dar- 
 ling boy dancing about the room, apparently in an 
 ecstasy of joy. 
 
 " Tommy ! you reckless boy ! What are you doing 
 now ?" 
 
 "I was celebrating," he answered, somewhat dis- 
 comfited at being discovered, and highly astonished at 
 seeing that his aunt had a coil of rope in her hands. 
 
 " Celebrating what ?" 
 
 " That old mustard plaster. I feel so good that 
 it's off. But I say, aunt, you're not going to tie 
 me down, are you ?" 
 
 "No, Tommy; but get into bed, and I'll tell you 
 all about it." 
 
 Curiosity gave Tom's obedience a generous amount 
 of promptness.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 177 
 
 Then Miss Meadow gravely tied one end of the 
 rope to the bureau. 
 
 "It's a heavy bureau, Tom; and it will stand the 
 strain." 
 
 The astonished lad began to fear that his aunt 
 was losing her mind. 
 
 " What strain ?" 
 
 "Tommy, pay attention to me; if the house 
 catches fire, or gets struck by lightning, drop this 
 rope out the window and climb down. You're good 
 at climbing, you know." 
 
 " Do you really think, aunt, that the lightning is 
 chasing me round the world ?" 
 
 "We don't know what may happen," said the 
 little woman. " There are storms and fires all over 
 the country. Now, good night, dear !" and she kissed 
 the unromantic youth. 
 
 Miss Meadow had not been gone five minutes, 
 when she remembered that Tom's water-pitcher 
 needed replenishing. She hastened back, and, as 
 she entered his room, gave a gasp. He was not 
 there. 
 
 "Tommy!" she called. 
 
 "Yes'm." 
 
 The voice was from without. Ah! she saw it all 
 now, as with a suppressed scream she hurried over 
 to the open window, following the course of the 
 rope. 
 
 Tom was half-way down. 
 
 " You wretch God forgive me! my dear Tommy, 
 what on earth are you doing?" 
 
 "Testing your fire-escape, aunt. It's immense!" 
 He delivered this opinion as he touched foot in the 
 yard. No sooner had he relinquished his hold on 
 
 12
 
 ifS TOM PLAYFAtR. 
 
 the rope than Miss Meadow hauled it up into the 
 
 window with feverish haste. 
 
 "I say," he protested, "how'll I get back?" 
 
 " I'll open the door for you, Tommy." 
 
 "But you've spoiled all my fun; it would be jolly 
 
 climbing up again." 
 
 Master Tom, nevertheless, re-entered by the side 
 
 door; and slept without a fire-escape that night. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM AND KEEN AN HOLD A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 "TTEY! you fellows over there; you needn't try 
 1 1 to dodge work ; come on, now, and haul 
 
 j 
 
 snow. Harry, for goodness' sake, go and show 
 Conway how to roll that snowball of his here. If 
 he goes on that way he wont have it here in time 
 for next Christmas. I say, John Donnel, stir up 
 John Pitch, wont you? There he is fooling around 
 in a puddle of water with his old rubber boots, when 
 he ought to be hard at work." 
 
 Such were the quick and various remarks that 
 came from the mouth of Tom Playfair, some few 
 days after his return from St. Louis, whither he had 
 gone with father and aunt to spend his Christmas 
 holidays. 
 
 The events of the November night had made Tom 
 extremely popular among his playfellows. All boys 
 are at bottom generous hearted. Selfishness is the 
 crust of years; and the countless mean acts of cer- 
 tain boys are in nine cases out of ten the result of 
 thoughtlessness, and in the tenth case, the fruit of
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 179 
 
 false ideals and defective training. So, in the 
 general chorus of praise for Tom, there was not a 
 single dissenting voice. 
 
 For some days past there had been talk in the 
 small yard of building a snow fort, and of inviting 
 the boys of the large yard to attempt its capture. 
 Various details had been discussed, until finally, 
 with the rejection of some and the acceptance of 
 others, it was resolved to carry the matter into 
 effect. 
 
 "Who'll be captain?" queried Conway. 
 
 "Keenan!" suggested Pitch. "He was captain 
 last year." 
 
 "Not this time," said George Keenan. "One 
 turn is good enough for me. I like to play second 
 fiddle now and then. It seems to me that our cap- 
 tain for this year ought to be Tom Playfair. " 
 
 "Playfair! Playfair!" was re-echoed on all sides, 
 and with the least little touch of a blush on the part 
 of Tom, and wondrous unanimity on the part of 
 his playfellows, our hero was installed as captain of 
 the small boys' snow fort. 
 
 With his usual energy, Tom set about constructing 
 the ramparts of snow; his orders went flying right 
 and left. He was an active superintendent; he 
 inspected everything personally; and in doubtful 
 points consulted the experience of Donnel and 
 Keenan. 
 
 "I say, John," he said, addressing Donnel, when 
 matters were well underway, "how long did you fel- 
 lows hold the fort against the big boys last year?" 
 
 "About eleven or twelve minutes. They stole a 
 march on us last year. Before dinner, we had got 
 over five hundred snowballs ready. While we were
 
 180 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 in eating, some of the big boys stole them. That 
 took all the spirit out of our fellows. By the way, 
 we ought to get even with them for that trick. I'm 
 going to try to think out some scheme. Yes, Tom; 
 last year they put us to rout in eleven minutes." 
 
 "Pshaw! That wont go. We're not going to 
 allow them to clean us out in that style this year." 
 
 ''Aren't you, now? I don't know about that," 
 put in Keenan. " Some of those big chaps are just 
 awful at throwing a snowball. Once Carmody 
 pegged a snowball that took me square on the nose. 
 It came in so hard, that I thought at first that my 
 nose was driven through my head, and would come 
 sticking out on the other side." 
 
 "Yes," chimed in John, "and once last winter 
 when Ryan hit me in the eye, I saw so many moons 
 that I thought I was a lunatic." 
 
 This excellent classical pun excellent because 
 so extremely bad was lost upon Tom. It was lost 
 upon George, too, who at that moment was seemingly 
 absorbed in thought. 
 
 "Tom," he said suddenly, "I've an idea. Come 
 over by the playroom; I think you're just the boy 
 that can carry it out." 
 There was inspiration in George's face. 
 
 The two walked away together, and held a long, 
 animated, but whispered consultation. Presently 
 they returned to John's side. 
 
 "Now, the question is," began Tom, "to find out 
 who are the best throwers in the big yard." 
 
 "Let's see," said Donnel. "There's Ryan and 
 Carmody and McNeff and McCoy (he uses ice balls, 
 too; he's a mean fellow) and Drew and Will Cleary 
 and Ziegler. That's all I can remember." As
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 181 
 
 George enumerated each name he checked it off on 
 his fingers and blinked his eyes. 
 
 "You left out two of the best," put in John Don- 
 nel " Miller and Arthur." 
 
 " Just nine," said Tom, as he walked away. 
 
 Donnel perceived that something was on foot; his 
 curiosity was aroused. 
 
 " Say, George, what scheme are you and Tom 
 hatching?" 
 
 "We're going to steal all the snow in the big 
 yard, so's to deprive the big fellows of ammunition," 
 was George's grave reply. 
 
 "Oh, come on! what's the idea?" 
 
 "We're going to make a bonfire in the fort, so's 
 to keep the boys warm and prevent the snow from 
 freezing too hard." 
 
 John aimed a blow at George, which would have 
 taken that young wag in the ribs, had he not ducked 
 promptly. With a growl on the part of John, 
 and a laugh on the part of George, the conference 
 ended. 
 
 Meantime, the work went on with ever- increasing 
 energy ; so that, as the sweet notes of the Angelus 
 bell announced the hour of noon, and the boys with 
 bared heads paused from their work to renew the 
 angelic salutation, one of the sweetest memorial 
 customs of St. Maure's, they bowed their faces and 
 breathed their words in the presence of a fort 
 graceful in its way, and strong as boyish skill could 
 make it. 
 
 It had been arranged that the storming of the fort 
 should begin precisely at one o'clock. Contrary to 
 the general custom on holidays, there was much 
 talking and little eating at dinner; and even the
 
 1 82 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 a-! ;ent of the favorite pie aroused but little enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 Truth compels me to say that not a few of the 
 boys shortened their customary after-dinner visit to 
 the Blessed Sacrament on this occasion; we are 
 dealing with boys, not with angels. 
 
 While twenty or thirty of the stronger lads busied 
 themselves in inspecting and strengthening the for- 
 tification, the others gave themselves to the manu- 
 facturing and storing away of snowballs. 
 
 These they placed within the intrenchments, 
 which, I forgot to mention, were situated in the 
 angle formed by a wing and a portion of the main 
 body of the "old church building." 
 
 Precisely at fifteen minutes to one o'clock, Tom, 
 assuming an air of coolness which belied his real 
 feelings, presented himself to the second prefect of 
 the large yard. 
 
 "Mr. Beakey," he said, politely raising his cap, 
 " could you please tell me who is the captain of the 
 big boys?" 
 
 "Captain!" repeated Mr. Beakey, banteringly. 
 "They don't need a captain to rout out you little 
 fellows." 
 
 "Maybe they think they don't, Mr. Beakey; but I 
 hope they'll change their minds. Well, if there 
 isn't any captain, couldn't I please have a talk with 
 some of the leaders?" 
 
 "Certainly, not the least objection," answered 
 the prefect, in an encouraging tone; for he per- 
 ceived that Tom was strangely timid and embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 "And eh eh, Mr. Beakey," continued Tom, 
 blushing and hanging his head, " could I please
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 183 
 
 fiave the key of your class-room, so's we can go up 
 there and fix our plans? It wont take more than 
 two minutes." 
 
 The prefect handed Tom the required key. " Oh, 
 thank you, Mr. Beakey! and please, sir, will you 
 ring the bell for the assault to begin as soon as I 
 come down ?" 
 
 "Yes; anything else on your mind?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; just one thing more. I want to see 
 Carmody, Ryan, McNeff, McCoy, Drew, Will 
 Cleary, Ziegler, Arthur, and Miller." 
 
 "Are those the leaders?" 
 
 "I think so, sir," answered Tom modestly. 
 
 "You have their names pat; probably you'll find 
 most of them in the reading-room, and a few in the 
 play-room." 
 
 Tom sought them out at once. They were not a 
 little amused at his proposition to hold a meeting; 
 but good-naturedly yielded, and followed him over 
 to the class-room building. 
 
 "I say," said Tom, as they trudged up the stairs, 
 " how long do you expect us to hold the fort ?" 
 
 " If you hold it five minutes, you'll be doing well," 
 volunteered Miller, with a grin. 
 
 " Perhaps you may hold out fifteen minutes or so," 
 remarked Carmody, with a view to encouraging the 
 young captain. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you what," said Tom; "if we 
 stand it out half an hour, will you agree in the 
 name of the big fellows to give up the fighting, and 
 allow the victory to us?" 
 
 "Of course." "I should say so!" "Yes, sir," 
 came the general chorus; and as they spoke Car- 
 mody winked solemnly at Ryan, Will Cleary put his
 
 1 84 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 finger to his eye, and a general grin passed from 
 face to face. 
 
 "Well," said the object of this subdued and ill- 
 concealed merriment, as he unlocked the door of 
 Mr. Beakey's class-room, "if you'll walk in, we'll 
 settle everything in less than no time." 
 
 Tom stood holding the door open, with the key 
 in the lock, waiting in all innocence and politeness 
 for the wily leaders of the large yard to enter. All 
 entered, still grinning. Suddenly, Tom sprang from 
 the room, and the door banged after him, while 
 coming close upon the slam grated the ominous 
 sound of the key turning in the lock, followed by 
 the quick patter of light feet down the stairs. 
 
 The hard-hitters of the large yard were prisoners. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 STORMING OF THE SNOW FORT. MR. BEAKEY TALKS AT 
 CROSS PURPOSES WITH THE SENIOR STUDENTS. 
 
 , Mr. Beakey," shouted Tom a few moments 
 later, " ring the bell, please we've got every- 
 thing fixed the way I want it. And I came near 
 forgetting it wont you please time us? The fight 
 isn't to go beyond half an hour. If we last it out 
 half an hour, we win, you know." With which 
 words, Tom started off at break-neck speed for 
 the fort; and such progress did he make that he 
 was within a few yards of his intrenchments when 
 the college bell gave the signal for the beginning 
 of hostilities.
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 185 
 
 The sound of the bell, coupled with Tom's ap- 
 pearance, drew shrill, hearty cheers from the little 
 boys, as standing, snowballs in hand, they impa- 
 tiently awaited the onset. 
 
 By way of echo, a hoarser, deeper sound came 
 from the large yard; it was the battle cry of the 
 large boys, confidently moving to victory. 
 
 Scarcely had these raucous cheers been fairly 
 heard, when their authors, thus far screened from 
 the eyes of the small boys by the intervening build- 
 ing, appeared in full view, as they came rushing 
 round the corner of the " little boys' dormitory." 
 
 Forthwith, a few balls began to fall harmlessly 
 about the fort. 
 
 "They might as well send off sky-rockets," re- 
 marked Conway. 
 
 "Boys," said Tom, "don't throw a single ball till 
 I give the word. Be sure not to forget. All you 
 have to do for the present is to keep your eyes open 
 and dodge every ball." 
 
 Thicker, swifter, oftener, straighter, came the 
 snowballs; nearer and nearer the attacking party. 
 
 "Hi! hi! Come, clear out of that, little chaps!" 
 shouted Fanning, who was well in the front of his 
 party. "Come and put us out!" came the answer 
 from Conway. 
 
 " Come on, boys," continued the energetic aggres- 
 sor, "let's charge 'em." 
 
 Inspirited by Fanning's advice, the large boys 
 gave a rousing cheer. 
 
 " Now, give it 'em," bawled Fanning, as he came 
 within about fifty feet of the fort. 
 
 In prompt obedience to this order, a shower of 
 snowballs made the air white; and two of the small
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 bo;, o, each holding his hand to his nose, marked 
 their way to the infirmary with a trail of crimson. 
 
 " Y/hoop-la! Now's our time," cried Tom, as the 
 large boys stooped for a fresh supply of snow. 
 "Fire!" 
 
 As ball after ball whizzed into the ranks of the 
 besiegers, their expressions of enthusiasm, so multi- 
 tudinous before, shaded off into blended expressions 
 of astonishment and uneasiness. Presently, how- 
 ever, astonishment pure and simple stamped itself 
 on their faces; for before they had fairly begun to 
 dodge the well-directed balls of the small boys, the 
 shrill cry of " Charge!" came from the fort upon 
 their startled ears, and presto! there issued at a run 
 twenty-five of the small yard's chosen sharp-shooters. 
 
 Whiz! whiz! whiz! whiz! 
 
 This was too much. Amidst the shouts and taunts 
 of the small boys, the crash of cymbal, beat of drum 
 and blare of trumpet all purloined from the music- 
 room by the ingemous Conway the large boys of 
 St. Maure's turned tail and fled! Not all, however. 
 
 In the confusion of onset, Fanning and a few of 
 the unterrified resorted to a manoeuvre. Quietly 
 slipping aside they allowed pursued and pursuers 
 to pass, then suddenly advanced upon the fort. 
 
 But the smaller boys inside were thrilled with the 
 martial spirit of their leaders; they fought bravely. 
 Still, the issue could hardly be looked upon as 
 doubtful. Slowly but inevitably the hope of the 
 large yard advanced. Fanning's voice was becom- 
 ing "hoarse with joy." He hoped that in a few 
 moments the works of the enemy would be his. But 
 he reckoned without his host. 
 
 He was still urging his men on, forgetful of the
 
 TOM PLAY FAIR. 187 
 
 sharp-shooters in his wake, when Tom's voice rose 
 above the din. 
 
 "Hold the fort, for we are coming," bawled the 
 young Sherman; and as he spoke he laid his hand 
 on Fanning's shoulder. 
 
 "Do you surrender?" continued Tom. 
 
 Fanning with his contingent turned, only to find 
 that he was hemmed in by twenty-five warriors bold. 
 
 "Never!" shouted Fanning, as with a vigorous 
 shove he tumbled Tom over into the snow. "We'll 
 die first." 
 
 "Then die!" said Keenan; and forthwith twenty- 
 four small boys fell upon the unterrified outnum- 
 bering them, I must say, three to one, brought them 
 to the earth, bound them, dragged them behind the 
 intrenchments, oblivious in the mean time of the 
 galling fire of the main body of the enemy, who 
 were content to remain, however, at a safe distance. 
 
 From that moment, the fighting on the part of the 
 large boys was tame. Deprived of their most skil- 
 ful throwers, whose absence they had not noticed at 
 the beginning of hostilities, and without the leader- 
 ship of Fanning, they displayed a " masterly inac- 
 tivity. " 
 
 Whenever the junior students issued forth for a 
 charge, they had a capital opportunity of observing 
 the elegance and variety of the senior students' coat- 
 tails. 
 
 In the mean time, the prefects and several of the 
 professors stood looking on. Among them was Mr. 
 Beakey. He had a quick eye, and it struck him, 
 presently, that a number of the large boys were 
 absent. Where could they be ? 
 
 His suspicions were aroused. Perhaps they had
 
 1 88 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 taken advantage of his being a new prefect he 
 arrived in St. Maure's but a few weeks previous to 
 slip up to the village. Perhaps dreadful thought! 
 they might come back to college intoxicated. 
 Mr. Beakey was familiar with stories of boarding- 
 schools, and he remembered some sad cases of youth' 
 ful intemperance. 
 
 He gave a sigh, took out his note-book, and ran 
 over the list of the boys. His face grew longer as 
 he read and compared. Yes, all the leaders, the 
 very boys whom Tom had asked for, were missing. 
 
 " This is too bad," he muttered to himself. " They 
 are the last boys I would suspect of acting under- 
 hand. I do hope they wont do anything to disgrace 
 the college. They're all good boys, and it would 
 be a pity to have even one of them expelled. It's 
 a pity I don't know the boys better. But perhaps 
 they're about in some corner or other. I'll make 
 sure of that point first." 
 
 Just then, Tom, on a grand triumphant charge, 
 came sweeping past him. Regardless of the flying 
 missiles, Mr. Beakey caught up with him. 
 
 " Playfair, " he cried, raising his voice above the 
 din, " do you know anything about Carmody, Ryan, 
 and those other boys you asked leave to speak to ? 
 Where are they ?" 
 
 Mr. Beakey's face as he spoke was clouded. 
 Tom judged the expression to be one of vexation, 
 and inferred, boy-like, that the prefect was not at 
 all pleased at seeing his boys routed. 
 
 "I'll tell him the story," thought Tom, "after 
 the battle, when he's not so excited. If I tell him 
 now he'll give me a big scolding." 
 
 So he replied demurely:
 
 TOM PLA YFAIK. 189 
 
 "Mr. Beakey, wont you please excuse me? But, 
 really, I'd rather not tell." 
 
 This answer confirmed Mr. Beakey's worst sus- 
 picions. 
 
 "There's no doubt about it," he muttered, as he 
 made his way out of the thick of the fight. "These 
 boys have stolen away to the village. But I do 
 hope they'll not drink anything." 
 
 Mr. Beakey took out his watch. He started; it 
 was two minutes beyond the half hour agreed upon. 
 Hastening to his own yard, he rang the bell. 
 
 A great scream rose from the throats of a hundred 
 small boys, as, in the full flush of victory, they 
 charged their vanquished seniors for the last time. 
 It was a disgraceful rout. 
 
 No sooner had the bell sounded than Tom quickly 
 pattered to the class-room building, stealthily has- 
 tened up the staircase, and under cover of the cries 
 of victory without, and the growling of the prisoners 
 within, unlocked the door. He then hurried away, 
 entrusted Mr. Beakey's key to the care of a large 
 boy, and returned to his proper yard, there to 
 receive congratulations and fight his battles o'er 
 again. 
 
 In the class-room which he had just left, however, 
 there were no congratulations exchanged. Carmody 
 and Ryan were sulking in a corner; Ziegler was 
 elaborately writing " sold again" on the black-board ; 
 Will Cleary was whistling the " Last Rose of Sum- 
 mer," after the manner of a dirge; while Miller 
 paced up and down between the benches like a caged 
 tiger. 
 
 " Confound it !" burst forth McNeff. " I was never 
 so badly taken in since I came here."
 
 190 TOM PLAYFAiti. 
 
 "You haven't been here so long; you're young 
 yet," was Ryan's consolatory reflection. 
 
 "This is a pretty how-de-do," growled Cleary. 
 " Every mule in the yard will have the laugh on us. " 
 
 " I'll paralyze the first fellow that laughs at me," 
 said McCoy. 
 
 "Just imagine the grin on Fanning's face," mut- 
 tered Carmody. 
 
 The task of imagining Fanning's grin seemed to 
 be attended with some difficulties, for it induced a 
 silence that lasted for several minutes. 
 
 "Isn't that little wretch ever coming back to un- 
 lock this door?" cried Arthur, at length. "The 
 fight's been over nearly an hour. Hasn't any one 
 got a button-hook ?" 
 
 There was a sullen silence. 
 
 "Well, come on," continued Arthur, " let's go to 
 the window, and catch some fellow's eye, and get 
 him to open up for us." 
 
 "For goodness' sake!" cried Ryan, "don't. 
 There'll be laughing enough at us as it is. But if 
 the fellows once know we're here, they'll march up 
 in procession to let us out." 
 
 "Well," said Ziegler, "I don't propose to stay 
 here forever. I wonder couldn't I squeeze through 
 the transom ?" 
 
 "You might try," said Carmody encouragingly. 
 "And who knows but the key is still in the lock? 
 It would be just like that brat of a small boy to 
 leave it there, and forget all about it. Small boys 
 are nuisances." 
 
 While Carmody was speaking, Ziegler had taken 
 off his coat and vest. 
 
 "Now, boys, give me a lift," he said.
 
 PLAYFAIR. *9i 
 
 Eager hands came to his help a trifle too eager, 
 perhaps; for Ziegler was hurried through the aper- 
 ture in such wise that he came down on the other 
 side on hands and knees. 
 
 "You're a lot of lunatics!" he volunteered as he 
 arose, "you'd think I was insured for a fortune, and 
 had two or three necks to break. There isn't any 
 key here." 
 
 "Try and break the door in," suggested McCoy. 
 
 "All right! Get away from the door, then," 
 returned Ziegler. 
 
 He stepped back a few paces, and then made a 
 violent rush at the door, catching and turning the 
 knob as he threw the whole weight of his body 
 against the woodwork. 
 
 The door flew open, and Ziegler flew in. His 
 flying progress was arrested by Cleary, who was 
 rendered breathless and brought to the floor with 
 his friend on top. 
 
 While the two unfortunates were ruefully picking 
 themselves up, the others broke into a ringing laugh. 
 
 "Shut up!" roared Ziegler, when he could com- 
 mand his breath. "You're a lot of fools! You 
 might have known that door was unlocked." 
 
 "That's a fact," assented Carmody. "It's funny 
 it didn't occur to you. You're a pretty sharp fellow, 
 you know." 
 
 "Aw! tell us something new," snarled Ziegler. 
 
 "Oh! why doesn't somebody hit me hard?" apos- 
 trophized Ryan. "We've been mooning in here 
 over an hour and a half, and that door's been open 
 over a century." 
 
 Slowly and sadly they went down the stairs, each 
 one trying to get behind the other, a feat in which
 
 19* TOM PLAYFA1R. 
 
 all, of course, did not succeed. On emerging into 
 the yard, they breathed more freely when they per- 
 ceived that no one was outside but Mr. Beakey, who 
 had been anxiously scanning the four quarters in 
 hope of discovering their whereabouts. 
 
 "Boys, "said the prefect, whose suspicions were 
 confirmed by their sheepish looks and blushing faces, 
 "you're caught there's no getting out of it." 
 
 "Well, that's so, Mr. Beakey," said Carmody, 
 trying to be easy and failing; "we might as well 
 acknowledge it. We've been stupid." 
 
 " So, you don't offer any excuses?" exclaimed Mr. 
 Beakey, in astonishment. 
 
 "Oh! well it was only in fun, sir," said Ryan, 
 whose sheepishness had now grown intense. 
 
 "Only in fun!" gasped Mr. Beakey. "Fun! fun! 
 that's not my idea of fun." 
 
 "Why, it's not so very serious, Mr. Beakey," said 
 Cleary, in a conciliatory tone. "And I hope," he 
 continued, "you wont punish Playfair on account 
 of it." 
 
 Mr. Beakey remembered Tom's embarrassment. 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say 
 that that little innocent was concerned in it?" 
 
 " Why, he was at the bottom of the whole matter," 
 broke in Carmody, in astonishment at the prefect's 
 obtuseness. " And let me tell you, he's not so inno- 
 cent, either; he's up to more tricks than any boy 
 twice his size in this college confound him!" 
 
 "Really," said the prefect, in a troubled voice, 
 " the case is far worse than I thought. Boys, I 
 didn't expect it of you. I thought you had more 
 sense. " 
 
 General sheepishness at its maximum. Some
 
 TOM PLAYFAtR. 193 
 
 grinning helplessly. Majority gazing at their 
 feet. 
 
 "Frankly," he continued, "I am very sorry on 
 your account. 
 
 "Oh, don't bother about us, sir," put in Cleary; 
 "we can stand being laughed at." 
 
 "Laughed at!" echoed the prefect in dismay; 
 " do you mean to say that such things are matter for 
 laughter to the students of this college?" 
 
 "Why, certainly," said Ryan, no less puzzled than 
 the prefect. "And, in fact, I guess we'll have to 
 laugh the thing off ourselves." 
 
 "There, now, that'll, do," said Mr. Beakey 
 sternly. " I see that not one of you is in a condi- 
 tion to talk sense. You will repent your words to- 
 morrow, when you regain the proper use of your 
 reason. " 
 
 The boys exchanged glances of perplexity. For 
 the first time, they began to suspect that they were 
 talking at cross purposes. 
 
 "Come, now," continued the prefect, "tell the 
 exact truth. How long were you up ?" 
 
 (Mr. Beakey meant uptown; the boys thought 
 that he had reference to the class-room.) 
 
 "Over an hour," said Carmody. 
 
 "And how much did each one of you take?" 
 
 The boys again looked at each other. 
 
 "Do you mean chalk, sir?" ventured Ziegler. 
 "I took a small piece, but meant no harm," and he 
 produced from his pocket a bit of black-board 
 chalk. 
 
 Mr. Beakey flushed with anger. 
 
 "There wasn't anything else to take but ink, 1 * 
 continued Ziegler, "and none of us wanted any." 
 '3
 
 f$4 fOM PLAYFAtk. 
 
 This made matters worse. Mr. Beakey now felt 
 confident that the boys were quizzing him. 
 
 " Enough of this nonsense," he said. "You need 
 not make your case worse than it is by untimely 
 joking. You have already acknowledged that you 
 are fairly caught. I missed you from the yard be- 
 fore you were gone five minutes and you have 
 shown some signs of sorrow ; you have acknowledged 
 that you were "uptown" for over an hour; your 
 shamefaced expressions and flushed faces show the 
 effects of your indiscretion there's a clear case 
 against you. So, now, you may as well out with the 
 whole thing, and tell how much you took." 
 
 The astonishment that deepened on each one's 
 face with each remark of Mr. Beakey culminated 
 in a look of comic amazement; the misunderstanding 
 was too ridiculous. Mr. Beakey's last question was 
 the signal for a hearty burst of laughter. 
 
 "Boys! boys!" implored Mr. Beakey, "for good- 
 ness' sake don't create a scene!" 
 
 Restraining his mirth, Ryan explained the misun- 
 derstanding; and as he spoke, it was delightful to 
 see how the wrinkles and frowns disappeared from 
 the prefect's brow, and how the firm-set, stern lines 
 about the mouth softened into the brightest of smiles. 
 
 "Well, boys," he said, when Ryan had detailed 
 their adventures, " I acknowledge that I've made a 
 big blunder, and I ask your pardon. I don't know 
 the ropes yet, you see. But sincerely, I am glad 
 that I am in the wrong." 
 
 There was a whispered consultation among the 
 boys ; then Ryan spoke : 
 
 " Mr. Beakey, we want you to do us a favor. You 
 and that Playfair boy are the only ones that know
 
 TOM PLAY FA IK. 195 
 
 of the way we were taken in we'll make him keep 
 quiet, if you'll promise to say nothing to any one 
 about it." 
 
 "You can trust me," answered Mr. Beakey, "not 
 a soul shall hear of it from my lips." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," came the general chorus. 
 
 Tom was easily induced to hold his tongue on the 
 subject ; so, too, was George Keenan (who had sug- 
 gested the plot to Tom) ; and so the " true inward- 
 ness" of the big boys' failure to take the snow fort 
 now becomes public for the first time. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM MEETS WITH A BITTER TRIAL. 
 
 IN the events I have narrated as happening after 
 the night of the first Friday in November, I have 
 purposely avoided enlarging upon the grief and 
 horror of that dreadful accident. 
 
 One would think, judging from what I have related 
 of Tom, that our cheerful little hero had been 
 strangely unimpressed by the tragic incident. This, 
 however, is a wrong inference. True, Tom, by 
 being sent to the infirmary, was wisely spared the 
 sad sights incident upon the burial of his two friends. 
 After leaving the dormitory, he never saw the face 
 of Green again, face more beautiful and composed 
 in death than it had ever been in the years of col- 
 lege life. Nor did he ever again see the face of the 
 gentle boy who had asked his prayers. Had he 
 seen it, he would have recognized the same beautiful 
 expression which had thrown a halo upon the coiu>
 
 196 TOM PLAY FAIR. 
 
 tenance when the boy had uttered " Sweet Heart of 
 Jesus, be my Love." 
 
 Nevertheless, the accident had deeply affected 
 Tom. He knew that his own escape from instant 
 death had fallen little short of a miracle; and every 
 night from his inmost heart he thanked God that 
 he had been spared to make his First Communion. 
 That Green had been taken away just as he had 
 conquered his passions and made a start for the 
 better, and that Alec had been called to God on the 
 very day he had completed his ninth First Friday, 
 seemed to Tom to be a wondrous manifestation of 
 God's mercy. It was a lesson, too. 
 
 It filled his little heart with a burning desire to 
 receive Our Lord in the sacrament of His love. 
 Among Catholic boys as I have known them such 
 feelings and affections show themselves outwardly 
 in a somewhat negative manner. They do not 
 manifest themselves in deed and conversation, save 
 by increased carefulness in avoiding anything sinful. 
 
 Joke and jest, play and study, may go on in all 
 seeming as before. But the change, for all that, 
 may be radical and life-long. 
 
 It was a happy day for Tom when on the fifteenth 
 of February the First Communion Class was organ- 
 ized. I dare say that no small boy who ever attended 
 St. Maure's set about the work of preparation as 
 Tom did. Each day he had his catechism lesson 
 prepared with a thoroughness that was beyond criti- 
 cism. Nor, in the mean time, did he neglect his 
 other studies. Indeed, owing to his long absence, 
 it became necessary for him to apply himself very 
 hard, in order to put himself on a fair footing with 
 his classmates. Unfortunately, the semi-annual ex-
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 197 
 
 animations were upon him before he could repeat 
 all the class matter he had missed, and when, on the 
 22d of February, the class-standing was published, 
 Tom stood at the foot of his class, with but sixty 
 merit marks out of a hundred. 
 
 "I hope my father won't get mad about it," he 
 remarked to Harry Quip; and as he spoke he lookec 
 quite serious. 
 
 "Oh! I'm sure he won't mind it," said Harry 
 "He knows you've missed several weeks." 
 
 "Yes, but pa's getting mighty strict. He thinks 
 I'm awful careless. The fact is, we like each other 
 immensely, but pa doesn't know what to make of me. " 
 
 In these few words Tom had set down their rela- 
 tions quite clearly. Mr. Playfair loved his boy; 
 but as for understanding him, that was another 
 question. Clearly, if Mr. Playfair had ever been a 
 boy himself, he had either forgotten that circum- 
 stance or he had been cast in quite a different mould 
 from his son. The wall of misunderstanding had 
 been rising higher between them ever since Tom 
 reached the age of reason. Such relations between 
 father and son are not uncommon. 
 
 Tom's forebodings on this occasion were not with- 
 out foundation. Several days later he was sum- 
 moned to the President's room. On entering, he 
 saw at once from the reverend Father's face thai 
 something had gone wrong. 
 
 "Ah! Tommy; how are you studying?" 
 
 "Pretty hard, sir." 
 
 "And how are you getting on with your teacher?" 
 
 "I like him very much. If he's got anything 
 against me lately he hasn't told me anything about 
 it."
 
 198 TOM 
 
 "Are you sure you've had no trouble lately?" 
 
 "Yes, Father; I'm getting ready for my First 
 Communion." 
 
 "Well, Tom, I've very bad news for you." 
 
 "Anybody sick at home, sir?" 
 
 "No; it regards yourself. Your father is very 
 much displeased with your bulletin." 
 
 "Oh, I got low notes because I missed a lot of 
 classes. Mr. Middleton says I've caught up 
 already." 
 
 " Your father knew you had been absent, too, but 
 there must have been something more in your bulle- 
 tin, some remark which indicated that you were 
 not giving satisfaction ; for your father sends me 
 imperative orders to take you cut of the Communion 
 Class at once." 
 
 A strange expression came over Tom's face. 
 Every nerve seemed to be a-quiver. Till that mo- 
 ment, Tom himself had had no idea of the ardent 
 desire with which he looked forward to his " day of 
 days." 
 
 "Don't take it too much to heart, my boy," con- 
 tinued the President, both touched and edified at 
 the way in which Tom received the news. " I have 
 a hope that further examination will discover some 
 mistake. You mustn't give up hope yet. I'll in- 
 quire about your bulletin, and find out just how 
 things stand, as soon as possible." 
 
 "Thank you, Father," said Tom. 
 
 " In the mean time, offer your trial to God, my 
 Doy. It comes from Him. His ways are not our 
 ways. And when He sends us trials, He wishes us 
 to bear up under them cheerfully." 
 
 " I'll try to swallow it, sir. But it's rough."
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 199 
 
 Tom went directly to the chapel, prostrated him- 
 self before the Blessed Sacrament, and there prayed 
 fervently. When he entered, he was dazed, bewil- 
 dered; when he left, three minutes later, he was 
 comparatively calm. There is no sorrow that prayer 
 cannot soothe; and children's sorrows, God be 
 thanked for it, are quickest to yield their bitterness 
 to fervent prayer. 
 
 No one observing Tom playing at " foot-and-a- 
 half, " within that same hour, could imagine that 
 the nimble lad, all gayety arid motion, had just met 
 the second great sorrow of his life. The death of 
 his mother had been the first. 
 
 A week elapsed before he was again summoned 
 by the President. 
 
 "Well, Tom, things are looking a little brighter. 
 There's been a grave blunder. Report was sent to 
 your father that your conduct had been 'highly unsat- 
 isfactory. ' Now those words were put in your bul- 
 letin by some clerical error. They belonged to some 
 other boy's. I have just written your father how 
 matters stand, and I'm quite sure that all will be 
 right within a week." 
 
 Tom grinned excessively, and, finding some diffi- 
 culty in keeping both feet upon the floor, hastened 
 to leave the room; whereupon he danced all the 
 way back to his yard. 
 
 And till news came from Mr. Playfair, Tom was 
 in great glee. How eagerly he hastened to the 
 President's room to hear the final word! He entered 
 all aglow and smiling, but the glow gave way to 
 ashen whiteness and the smile disappeared instantane- 
 ously. Something there was in the President's face 
 which warned him that his troubles were not yet over,
 
 200 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 " I've been a little surprised, Tom, by the tenor 
 of your father's letter. He says he is glad to learn 
 that your conduct is so satisfactory, and that you 
 are doing so well in your studies; but he adds that 
 he has been doubting for some time about the pro- 
 priety of your making First Communion, on other 
 grounds " 
 
 " I used to give lots of trouble at home," explained 
 Tom humbly. " I guess pa thinks I need more 
 time to reform." 
 
 "He is acting through love for you, Tom; he 
 wants to make sure that you are well prepared. He 
 suspects that your levity of disposition is a sign that 
 you are too young." 
 
 "Yes," assented Tom sadly, "I'd be better off if 
 I could go around with a long face." 
 
 "However," added the President, suppressing a 
 smile, "he leaves the matter in my hands." 
 
 Tom brightened at once. 
 
 " Judging from the drift of his letter, though, I 
 think that he would prefer you to wait." 
 
 Tom's face fell again. 
 
 " Now, my boy, you have your choice. If you 
 insist, I shall allow you to rejoin the Communion 
 Class." 
 
 Tom thought for a moment, then suddenly a light 
 flashed from his eyes, the light of an inspiration. 
 
 "Father, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give it 
 up for this year." 
 
 He did not explain his reasons, but for the Father 
 no explanation was needed. Tom had taken the 
 side of strict obedience and of sacrifice. 
 
 " God will bless you for that resolution, my boy. 
 Your Communion, when it comes, will be all the
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 201 
 
 happier; and even if you have been disobedient at 
 times, the act you have now made will more than 
 atone. You have chosen wisely, and God's blessing 
 will be upon the choice." 
 
 Tom departed happy. But the pain and struggle 
 were not over. At times an intense longing would 
 come upon our little friend. 
 
 On the feast of St. Joseph's Patronage, when six- 
 teen little lads knelt at the altar to receive for the 
 first time their divine Master, Tom's eyes became 
 very moist. One tear trickled down his honest face, 
 and with the dropping of that tear all his sadness 
 was gone. 
 
 There was no relaxation in his studies, meantime. 
 Looking forward to his First Communion, he conse- 
 crated every day to preparation; and so, when the 
 last examination came, Tom won highest honors in 
 his class, with ninety-nine merit marks after his 
 name. 
 
 Poor Tom! Between him and his Communion 
 another tragic experience was to intervene. Upon 
 this roguish little boy God seemed to have special 
 designs. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM WINS A NEW FRIEND AND HEARS A 
 STRANGE STORY. 
 
 IT must be said in justice to Mr. Playfair that 
 Tom's record during the last half of school 
 pleased him very much. 
 
 Indeed, he expressed his pleasure in such terms on
 
 201 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 their meeting again that Tom blushed to the tips 
 of his ears. 
 
 " Say, pa, what about my Communion ?" 
 
 "You can make it, my boy, just as soon as the 
 President allows you next year. Perhaps I was a 
 little severe on you, but it has done you good." 
 
 And, indeed, there could be no doubt about Tom's 
 improvement, though truth compels me to add that 
 he made things very lively indeed at home during 
 the two months of vacation. 
 
 On returning to college, he had a long talk with 
 the President, the issue of which was, that Torr. 
 should prepare under the reverend Father's personal 
 direction to receive his Lord at Christmas. 
 
 That Christmas was to be the turning-point in 
 our hero's life. 
 
 September passed quietly. Towards the end of 
 the month Tom came upon a new friend. 
 
 He was sauntering about the yard one bright 
 afternoon, when his attention was caught by the 
 following dialogue: 
 
 " He's homesick!" 
 
 " He wants his ma!" 
 
 " Give him a little doll, in a nice gold-paper 
 dress!" 
 
 These were a few of the remarks from John Pitch 
 and a few others of the same ilk, addressed to a 
 timid-looking lad, around whom they had rudely 
 gathered. Just then Tom and Harry chanced to be 
 passing by. 
 
 " What's the matter ?" inquired Tom of the victim. 
 
 "He wants his ma, but you'll do, Playfair," vol- 
 unteered John Pitch. 
 
 "You're a mean set, to be teasing a poor new-
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 203 
 
 comer, who hasn't got any friends," exclaimed Tom, 
 his eyes flashing. 
 
 "Mind your business, Playfair," said Pitch. 
 
 " Yes, and you mind yours, and let the poor new 
 kid alone. Come on, Johnny What's-your-name, 
 and have a game of catch. Here, take some candy. " 
 
 Tom's new friend, James Aldine, said very little, 
 but his eyes spoke volumes of gratitude. He was a 
 quiet, olive-complexioned boy. His eyes, dark and 
 heavily shaded, had a trick of passing from an ex- 
 pression of gentle timidity to one of marked fear. 
 Tom, who at once took a liking to the new-comer, 
 soon came to notice this change of countenance, and 
 as the days slipped by and their intimacy increased, 
 Tom's wonder grew. He was puzzled, and, being 
 an outspoken boy, was only waiting a favorable op- 
 portunity of satisfying his curiosity. At last the 
 occasion presented itself. 
 
 It was the second week of October, whei- he and 
 James found themselves alone on the prairie, fully 
 two miles from the college. The average boy can 
 make an intimate friend in something under a week. 
 The intercourse of these two had already gone be- 
 yond that period, and Tom felt himself fully justified 
 in remarking: 
 
 "What makes you look so scared, Jimmy?" 
 
 " Do I look scared ?" 
 
 " Just as if you had been training a large stock of 
 ghosts, and hadn't succeeded." 
 
 Jimmy shivered 1 and his face paled. 
 
 "Halloa! now, I say," cried Tom, clapping him 
 heartily on the back; "what is the matter, any- 
 how ?" 
 
 "Oh, Tom," and Jimmy's long-pent emotions
 
 204 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 escaped in a flood of tears, " I'm afraid of being 
 murdered." 
 
 "What?" gasped Tom. 
 
 " Just listen. You know where I live, about sixty- 
 five miles from this place, on a large farm. Last year 
 a new-comer moved near us, named Hartnett. He 
 was a short, dark, ugly-looking man, with bristling 
 black whiskers. He lived all alone, about a mile 
 from our folks, and seldom said a word to anybody. 
 One night, about a month ago, I happened to pass 
 by his house, when I heard a noise inside, as if some 
 one were trying to shout, but couldn't; then I heard 
 a tremendous hubbub, as if there was a scuffle; 
 then the crack of a pistol, and then all was still 
 again. In spite of my fright, I crept to the win- 
 dow, and, oh, Tom, how I was frightened! On the 
 floor lay a man in a pool of blood, and over him 
 stood that dark man, looking still darker. I was so 
 frightened that I couldn't stir, and there I stood 
 with my face against the window-pane. Somehow, 
 I couldn't move. Then my heart gave a great 
 jump, when suddenly Hartnett's eyes met mine. 
 At first he turned deadly pale, then he swore a 
 dreadful oath and made for the door. As he moved, 
 my strength came back, and I tell you I ran down 
 the road at full speed; yet not so fast but that I 
 could hear his heavy breathing as he followed. Oh, 
 it was awful that run through the dark woods! I 
 don't think I'll ever be as frightened again, not 
 even when I come to die. Even as I ran, I could 
 tell that he was gaining on me; and I called to God 
 to help me, and prayed as I had never prayed before. 
 At last his hand was on my collar, and he had me 
 tight. He pressed me to the earth with one hand,
 
 TOM PLAYFAIJ? 265 
 
 and with the other pulled a knife from his bosom. 
 I shut my eyes and said what I thought was to be my 
 last prayer. Suddenly his grasp loosened. I opened 
 my eyes and saw he had changed his mind. 
 'Boy,' he said, in a tone that froze my blood, 'kneel 
 down. ' As I took the position, he held me closely. 
 'I know you,' he said, 'and you needn't fear I'll 
 ever forget your face ; now swear never to tell what 
 you saw in my house. ' Then he put me through a 
 dreadful oath, and swore that if ever I opened my 
 lips about what had happened that night he would 
 kill me with most awful tortures." Here James 
 paused, and trembled in every limb. 
 
 Tom put his hands in his trousers' pockets, and 
 stood with his legs wide apart. It was his method 
 of expressing astonishment. 
 
 "Gracious!" he said, "but he's a bad man! You 
 oughtn't to be afraid of him, though." 
 
 "But I am; it is not so much fear of him as of 
 my conduct that worries me. Sometimes I wonder 
 whether I have to keep such an oath. Do you think 
 I have?" 
 
 "I haven't got that far in my catechism yet," 
 said Tom ; " but I can ask my teacher. Why, what's 
 the matter?" 
 
 As Tom was speaking, a look of horror had come 
 upon Jimmy's face. 
 
 "Oh, Tom, I've broken my oath. I've told you 
 the secret without thinking of it." 
 
 Tom was startled. His hands went deeper into 
 his pockets and his legs spread wider. 
 
 "Well," he inquired, after a few moments' reflec- 
 tion, " you didn't mean to break your oath, did you ?" 
 
 "Honor bright, I didn't," protested James.
 
 2o6 TOM PLA YFAIR. 
 
 "Well, then, it isn't any sin; because you can't 
 commit a sin unless you mean to that's what we are 
 told in catechism. But if I'd been in your place I 
 wouldn't have taken that oath. I'd have died first. " 
 
 "Well, do you think I'm obliged to keep it?" 
 
 "I don't know about that. I'll tell you what: 
 I'll ask the President about it, so's he won't know 
 that I mean any particular boy. What do you say 
 to that ?" 
 
 "I think it's a good idea." 
 
 Before night, Tom had inquired of the President 
 and learned that an oath taken under compulsion 
 was not binding. 
 
 "But," said James, when this news was imparted 
 to him, "what shall I do about it? Do you think 
 it my duty to tell on him?" 
 
 "I don't know, Jim; you'd better think about it. 
 Come on, let's play catch;" and Tom produced a 
 Spalding league from his pocket. They were hard at 
 it, when Harry came running up in great excitement. 
 
 "I say," he began, "have you heard what the 
 Red Clippers have done?" 
 
 "No; what?" inquired both in a breath. 
 
 " They have put up, as a prize, a fancy base-ball 
 bat and a barrel of apples to any club in the yard 
 that plays 'em a decent game inside of a month." 
 
 The "Red Clippers" was the banner base-ball 
 club of the small yard, and the players were the 
 strongest, hardiest, most skilful and most active of 
 the junior students. They were the constant theme 
 of admiration among all the little boys, an admi- 
 ration not unmerited, inasmuch as the Red Clippers 
 had over and over again defeated the best middle- 
 sized nine of the large yard. A challenge, conse-
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 207 
 
 quently, from their nine, was, in the eyes of all, an 
 opportunity to win glory. 
 
 "I'll tell you what," said Tom, "let's get up a 
 club to beat 'em." 
 
 James Aldine smiled, and looked at Tom as 
 though he doubted the seriousness of this offer. 
 
 "Get out!" said Harry in disdain. "We'll have 
 to grow several inches, and swell out in every direc- 
 tion, before we'll be able to beat them." 
 
 "That's what you say," retorted Tom. "But 
 we'll see about that. Now, look here! Harry, you 
 can curve, can't you ?" 
 
 "A little," was Harry's modest reply. 
 
 "Very well; you'll pitch and I'll catch. We'll 
 practise together and fix things so as to fool some 
 of those fellows. Joe Whyte may hold down first 
 base; he's a good jumper, and isn't afraid of any- 
 thing you can throw at him. Willie Ruthers can 
 play second base, and you, Jimmy, can try short 
 stop. Harry Conly seems to be a pretty good little 
 chap, and he can 'hold down third. Then, we can 
 put Harry Underwood in right, he's a gorgeous 
 thrower; Frank McRoy in centre, he's got long legs 
 and can cover a great deal of ground ; and Lawrence 
 Lery in left, he's a good fly-swallower." 
 
 "Pshaw!" grumbled Harry. "All those fellows 
 you've named are little tads. Do you expect to 
 beat the Red Clippers with them?" 
 
 "That's about it." 
 
 "Beat the Red Clippers!" reiterated Harry. 
 
 " That's just what I said, if we take a few weeks 
 for practice." 
 
 " Hire a hall ?" said Harry. 
 
 "Just wait, will you? Now, you and Jim go
 
 *o8 TOM PLAVFA1R. 
 
 round quietly and get our fellows together, without 
 letting any of the other boys know what's going on." 
 
 With but little delay, the boys in question were 
 brought together; whereupon Tom in a low voice 
 unfolded his plans. At first his hearers received the 
 idea of beating the Red Clippers as a bit of unin- 
 tentional pleasantry, but as Tom went on, they 
 settled into earnestness in such wise, that when he 
 came to a pause, all yielded the readiest assent to his 
 wishes, and despite Tom's modest disclaimer elected 
 him captain, manager, and trainer of the new club. 
 
 From that time on, Tom saw to it that his men 
 were practising constantly; and yet their training 
 was so unobtrusive, so "hidden under a bushel," as 
 to excite no comment among their playmates. 
 
 After breakfast and supper, for instance, McRoy, 
 Underwood, and Conly would take extreme corners 
 in the yard and give the whole recreation-time to 
 the catching of "high flies;" the basemen would 
 practise the stopping of "grounders" and the catch- 
 ing of line balls; while Tom and- Harry, with the 
 prefect's permission, would go behind the old 
 church and employ their time at "battery work." 
 Tom was a plucky little catcher, and even if he 
 failed sometimes of holding a ball he was not afraid 
 to stop it. His main idea in regard to practising 
 with Harry was to initiate that young pitcher into 
 such tricks as Tom's small experience could supply. 
 
 Whenever half-holiday came he and his men, in- 
 stead of going out for a walk, remained in the yard. 
 Then, when the play-ground was fairly well cleared, 
 he would put his basemen on the bases, his pitch- 
 er in the box, and his three fielders in turn at the bat. 
 
 It was a pleasing sight to see how deftly these
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 2OQ 
 
 knickerbockered lads handled the ball. See the 
 pitcher, bending his fingers into almost impossible 
 positions round the ball ! He is preparing to deliver 
 an " in-curve. " Whiz! there it goes, right over the 
 plate, whack! into Tom's hands; and the boy with 
 the bat wonders how he came to miss it. From the 
 way Tom throws it at the second baseman, you 
 would think it was a matter of life and death. But 
 it is thrown too high; however, Ruthers seems to 
 think the catching of it to be likewise a matter of 
 life and death, for he springs into the air, brings it 
 down with one hand, and without stopping for 
 applause passes it on a low line to the first baseman. 
 The first baseman is familiar with the short bound; 
 he makes a neat scoop, then sends it daisy-cutting 
 across the diamond to the short stop, who secures 
 it on a dead run, jerking it into the hands of the 
 third baseman. How quick they are! how eager! 
 The one week's practice has been magical in result. 
 
 "Good gracious!" exclaimed Willie, "but we can 
 play ball a little bit." 
 
 "You're right," said Joe as he walked in. "Say, 
 Tom, I think we can play 'em any time, now right 
 away." 
 
 "Not much!" said Tom emphatically. "There's 
 a big thing we've got to look out for yet; if we fix 
 that we'll be all right." 
 
 "What's that?" was the general query. 
 
 "We've got to get used to their pitcher's delivery, 
 so's to bat him easy. If we can't do good batting, 
 they'll beat us badly. Now, I'll tell you what; I've 
 got a scheme to bring the thing the way we want it. 
 It's this: I'll bet any boy here the cakes for the 
 14
 
 TOM P LAV FAIR, 
 
 next two weeks, and the apples too, that I can hold 
 his delivery for half an hour." 
 
 The "cakes and apples," also the "pie," were 
 favorite stakes at St. Maure's. By these terms was 
 understood the daily dessert. 
 
 "I'll take you," said Harry, whose twinkling 
 eyes gave evidence that he understood Tom's plan. 
 "And I'll give Keenan half the cakes if I win." 
 
 "Done, "said Tom, clasping Harry's hand, and 
 holding it till Joe kindly "cut" the bet. "And I'll 
 go halves with George if I win. And what do you 
 say, Harry, if these boys here, who have heard us 
 make the bet, do the batting to see whether they 
 can bluff me ?" 
 
 "I agree to that, too," answered Harry, with a 
 solemn wink. 
 
 All now perceived the ruse and were delighted 
 with their parts. No matter who should win the 
 bet, it would be a splendid opportunity for studying 
 their pitcher, and for getting some practice in batting. 
 
 After supper George Keenan was somewhat as- 
 tonished to find himself waited upon by a delega- 
 tion of yard-mates. 
 
 "What are you fellows up to?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Look here, George," Tom began, "I want you 
 to do me a favor. You see I made a bet to-day, 
 while these fellows were standing around, that I 
 could hold your hottest balls for half an hour. Now 
 if you pitch your best and I win, you'll get my dessert 
 fora week; if I lose, Harry'll give you his for a week. " 
 
 Most model boys, if we can believe the story 
 books, are rather indifferent in regard to cakes and 
 pie; but George was a model boy on lines of his 
 own he jumped at the offer.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. *I* 
 
 "Why of course I'll pitch to you; that's fun for 
 me." 
 
 "Thank you," said Tom gratefully. "And I say, 
 George, these boys will bat your pitching so as to 
 make it more real." 
 
 "Oh! that's all right," answered George, taking 
 off his coat, and stepping into the pitcher's box. 
 
 A referee was then appointed to time the carrying 
 out of this novel bet ; and the proceedings began. 
 For some time Tom contrived to hold George's 
 hottest balls with apparent ease, while the witnesses 
 improved their batting abilities. Strange to say, 
 however, Tom, at the end of twenty-five minutes, 
 began to show signs of weakening; and presently 
 called time. Harry had won the bet. 
 
 Tom then protested that he was sure he could 
 win the wager some other time; and, as before, 
 offered to bet on the result. Forthwith, Will Ruthers 
 took him up, and it was agreed that on the following 
 day the test should be repeated. 
 
 In a word, Tom, by a variety of devices, succeeded 
 in getting his men an opportunity of studying and 
 "solving" George's curves three or four times each 
 week. 
 
 Nor was he satisfied, once they had caught the knack 
 of hitting Keenan. He went further; he insisted on 
 their batting so as to send it toward third base. 
 He had a good reason for this, as the issue will show. 
 
 Thus, giving himself to study and to play with 
 equal zest, and never losing sight of the sacred 
 Christmas that was approaching, the month passed 
 quickly and pleasantly for Tom; and almost before 
 he could realize it, the day for the great base-ball 
 match was at hand.
 
 TOM PLAYFA1R. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 M WHICH THE "KNICKERBOCKERS" PLAY THE "RED 
 CLIPPERS." 
 
 HIGH Mass on All Saints' Day had just ended. 
 In one corner of the small yard a knot of boys 
 had gathered together, and were indulging in a 
 hearty laugh. 
 
 "O Jupiter!" Pitch exclaimed, "won't we do 'em 
 up!" 
 
 " They're pretty cool for little fellows," remarked 
 Harry Jones, the field captain of the Red Clippers. 
 He was holding in his hand a note. 
 
 "What's the fun?" asked George Keenan, who 
 had arrived late on the scene. 
 
 "The best joke of the season, George," said Con- 
 way. "Go on; read it to him, Henry." 
 
 "Listen to this," said Henry, with a smile. 
 
 ST. MAURE'S COLLEGE, 
 
 Nov. ist, 1 8 . 
 MR. HENRY JONES 
 
 Dear Sir: We, the Knickerbocker Club of St. Maure's Col- 
 lege, do hereby challenge the Red Clippers to a game of base- 
 ball to be played on the afternoon of All Saints' Day. 
 Respectfully, 
 
 THOMAS PLAYFAIR, captain and c. 
 
 HENRY QUIP, p. 
 
 Jos. WHYTE, ib. 
 
 WM. RUTHERS, 2b. 
 
 JAS. ALDINE, s. s. 
 
 HENRY CONLY, 3b. 
 
 HENRY UNDERWOOD, r. f. 
 
 FRANK McRov, c. f. 
 
 LORENZ LERY, 1. f.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR- 
 
 But George did not laugh. 
 
 "Those fellows," he said gravely, "may be little, 
 but they are no slouches. As for ourselves, we have 
 not played a game the last three weeks, and some 
 of you fellows need practice badly." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw!" said Pitch, "we need no practice 
 for them. I batted against Quip's pitching last 
 year, and I can knock him all over." 
 
 Despite George's doubts, the Red Clippers decided 
 to play their opponents without preparation. 
 
 Soon after dinner, accordingly, all the small boys 
 hurried from the yard to the base-ball field beyond 
 the blue grass, where they were presently swelled in 
 number by the arrival of the senior students, who, 
 having heard of Tom as an "exorcist," and known 
 him as captain of the snow fort, were anxious to 
 study his methods in the national game. 
 
 At five minutes to two, Henry Jones sent a five- 
 cent piece spinning in the air. 
 
 "Heads!" said Tom. 
 
 Heads it was, and the captain of the Knicker- 
 bockers chose the "outs." 
 
 "Time! Play!" bawled the umpire, as George 
 Keenan stepped up to the bat. 
 
 The ball that came from Harry's hands seemed to 
 be in a great hurry. It fairly crossed the plate, but 
 was too high. 
 
 "One ball." 
 
 Then came another ball, swift and low. 
 
 "Two balls." 
 
 The third ball was tempting, and just where 
 George wanted it. But it was one of those deceit- 
 fully slow balls, and almost sailed over the plate 
 some little time after George struck at it. The
 
 214 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 batsman had lunged vigorously, and as the resist, 
 ance of the air was mild, he whirled round and was 
 within an ace of losing his balance. Before he 
 could recover himself, another ball shot by, straight 
 and swift. 
 
 "Two strikes," cried the umpire. 
 
 The crowd laughed; George tried to look easy, 
 and Tom stepped up behind the bat. 
 
 George struck at the next ball, but he was too 
 slow, and walked away wearing the hollow mask of 
 a smile; while the crowd, always in favor of the 
 smaller boy, applauded lustily. 
 
 Shane next came to the bat, only to go out on a 
 foul, captured on the run by Henry Conly. Pitch 
 followed with an easy bounder to the pitcher, and, 
 amid lifting of voices and casting of caps, the Red 
 Clippers took the field. 
 
 Harry opened the innings for his side by popping 
 up an easy fly back of the pitcher, and before reach- 
 ing first base, changed his mind and went for a drink 
 of water. Tom now advanced to the bat and, after 
 two strikes, knocked a sharp grounder to Pitch, who 
 was covering short. As the ball went through 
 Pitch's legs, Tom ran to second. Then arose a 
 shout of triumph from the crowd, as Joe Whyte 
 drove a low liner straight over third, earning second 
 for himself and bringing in Tom. Willie Ruthers 
 gave variety to this stage of the game by striking 
 out. Aldine followed with a high fly toward short. 
 Pitch, and Conway, who played third, both ran for 
 it; a collision followed, and ball, third baseman, 
 and short stop rolled in three several directions. 
 
 "You idiot! What did you do that for?" Pitch 
 blurted.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 " Who ? me?" inquired Conway, as he picked him- 
 self up and began rubbing his head. 
 
 "Yes, you!" 
 
 "Oh, I thought you were talking to the ball! / 
 couldn't help it. I wouldn't strike against your 
 head for a fortune, if I could help myself." 
 
 Taking advantage of this altercation, Joe, who 
 had stolen third, ran home. The next batter, Harry 
 Underwood, knocked a vicious grounder between first 
 and second, but John Donnel was there and threw 
 him out with ease. 
 
 My base-ball readers must have already perceived 
 Tom's motive in training his men to turn on the 
 ball. The weak points of the Red Clippers were 
 thircl and short. 
 
 In the second inning, after a three-bagger by 
 Donnel, Conway made a clean hit, and sent John 
 home. Presently, Conway saw a good chance to 
 steal second ; the baseman was playing far off his 
 bag. Just as soon, then, as the pitcher delivered 
 his ball, Conway made a bold dash for second and 
 thereby fell into one of Tom's snares. The short- 
 stop of the Knickerbockers was there, caught the 
 ball from Tom, and touched the runner out. 
 
 In their half of the second inning, Tom's nine 
 covered themselves with honors, and their opponents, 
 especially Pitch and Conway, with errors. The 
 third and fourth innings brought two runs on each 
 side. 
 
 In the fifth, Pitch, who had lost his head, let sev- 
 eral slow grounders pass him, while Conway dropped 
 a fly and muffed two thrown balls errors which, 
 coupled with two base hits, yielded the Knicker- 
 bockers four runs. In the sixth inning, consequently,
 
 216 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 these two worthies were ordered to take positions in 
 the out-field. 
 
 " If that's the way you treat a fellow, I won't 
 play," growled Pitch, putting on his coat. 
 
 "And I want plaster for my head," added Con- 
 way, putting on his. 
 
 "Let's not play any more to-day," said Donnel, 
 at this juncture. "We're done up, and we might 
 as well give in gracefully, before we begin fighting 
 among ourselves." 
 
 The suggestion was good; the Red Clippers, 
 beaten in the field, outwitted at the bat, and jeered 
 at by the crowd, were indeed in no condition to 
 continue. Jones perceived this, and wisely con- 
 cluded to follow Donnel's advice. 
 
 Thereupon he held a short whispered consultation 
 with Tom, apart, and, turning to the scorer, called 
 for the score. 
 
 "Knickerbockers, 7; Red Clippers, 3," roared the 
 scorer. 
 
 Tumultuous applause from the sympathetic audi- 
 ence, hand-springs and hand-shakes from the vic- 
 torious players. 
 
 "Playfair," said Ryan, the captain of the senior 
 club of the college, " I've been here four years, and, 
 honestly, I've never seen a club better trained than 
 yours. You little fellows deserved to win that 
 game, you went about it so neatly." 
 
 Ryan's words voiced the general opinion. 
 
 Tom's training had indeed been successful. On 
 one occasion during the game, the umpire called 
 Will Ruthers out at second when he was manifestly 
 safe; but not by the least word or look did Ruthers 
 or any one of his side show dissatisfaction. So it
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 217 
 
 Was during the entire contest, while Jones and Pitch 
 and Conway made it disagreeable for the umpire by 
 constant quibbling and growling, the Knickerbock- 
 ers, to a man, cheerfully accepted his every ruling. 
 This is but one point of their training; but it is a 
 point which I enlarge upon for the simple reason 
 that so few college teams set any importance upon 
 it. And yet this point, if attended to, makes base- 
 ball a training-school for wondrous self-command, 
 and gives the game a dignity well befitting a nation's 
 choice. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 TROUBLE AHEAD. 
 
 TOM'S improvement was not limited to base-ball. 
 In class and out, he advanced steadily. Noth- 
 ing, perhaps, had so helped him as his choice of 
 friends. From among all the boys of the small 
 yard, he had selected as his chums Harry Quip, 
 Willie Ruthers, Joe Whyte, and James Aldine. 
 
 Harry Quip, mischief-loving though he was, had 
 a great amount of practical, common-sense piety. 
 No one enjoyed a joke or a laugh more heartily than 
 he, but he knew where to draw the line. He was 
 easy of disposition; in fact, a superficial knowledge 
 of him might bring one to think he was easily led. 
 In regard to indifferent matters this was quite true. 
 Harry would rather yield than quarrel. But when 
 it came to a choice between right and wrong, he 
 was firm as a rock. 
 
 One instance will give an idea of Harry's method 
 on such occasions.
 
 2l8 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 During the preceding vacation he was thrown in 
 with the boys of his neighborhood. 
 
 Shortly after his return from St. Maure's, he was 
 conversing with some of them, when one began nar- 
 rating what he considered a very good story indeed. 
 
 Harry saw the drift of it. "I say, boys," he 
 interrupted, " the air is getting too strong for me 
 around here. I guess I'll take a walk." 
 
 To his gratification, three of the little lads mus- 
 tered up courage to leave with him. The joke was 
 left unfinished, and whenever Harry Quip joined 
 the boys the conversation was entirely proper. 
 Indeed, before vacation had ended, the ethical 
 standard of his companions had risen by many 
 degrees. 
 
 Willie Ruthers and Joe Whyte were bright, pleas- 
 ant little lads, reflecting the virtues of their heroes, 
 Harry and Tom. 
 
 James Aldine was something more than an ordi- 
 narily pious boy. The younger students of St. 
 Maure's College actually revered him, and called 
 him the " saint. " He was remarkable for gentleness. 
 But his gentleness was made of stronger stuff than 
 the term usually implies. His meek little ways 
 wrought wonders upon Tom and Harry. They 
 seemed unconsciously to catch his gentleness, and 
 soon joined with him in little devotions that touched 
 and refined their lives into spiritual beauty. Tom 
 was often overawed by Jimmy's piety. 
 
 "Say, Harry," he remarked one day, "that Jimmy 
 Aldine's got more praying and piety in his little 
 finger than you and I have in our prayer-books and 
 whole bodies put together. Did you notice him last 
 Sunday after Holy Communion ? His face was as
 
 TOM PLAYFAfR. 21 Q 
 
 bright as as anything, and I watched him till he 
 looked like a saint in a picture; and I expected 
 every minute that a pretty gold crown would shine 
 around his head and a pair of spangled wings would 
 crop from his shoulders, and he'd go off sailing up 
 to heaven, leaving you and me to fight it out, and 
 even then find it hard to behave half decently." 
 
 Evidently Tom had an imagination. Had he 
 been older, he would have put his idea into verse 
 and published it. 
 
 One of the first friendly secrets that Tom imparted 
 to James Aldine was the story of his deferred First 
 Communion. James took as much interest in Tom's 
 preparation as Tom himself; and on recreation days, 
 when they walked out together over the lonely prai- 
 ries, he would speak so lovingly of Our Saviour in the 
 Blessed Sacrament, that his companion, like the 
 disciples on the road to Emmaus, felt his heart 
 burning within him. 
 
 On November the eighth two things came to 
 pass, both bearing closely upon the fates and for- 
 tunes of our five little lads. 
 
 On that morning a cheering fire lighted up the 
 windows of Mr. John Aldine's home, on the outskirts 
 of the village of Merlin. Within, a pleasant-featured 
 woman was busily setting the tea-table. Beside the 
 fire, a child, who had just emerged from babyhood, 
 was critically and dispassionately examining into 
 the merits of a picture book. 
 
 A brisk step was heard without, the door opened, 
 and a man entered. 
 
 "Papa! papa!" screamed the child, clapping his 
 little hands with glee and running toward the 
 new-comer.
 
 220 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Well, little Touzle," said Mr. Aldine, raising 
 the child in his arms and kissing him, "and how 
 are you, Kate ?" he continued, affectionately greet- 
 ing his wife. " We must be happy to-night. I have 
 succeeded well to-day in my law matters; and, best 
 of all, I have a letter from James." 
 
 " Hurrah!" cried Touzle, dancing about his papa's 
 legs, to the no small inconvenience of that gentle- 
 man, who was trying to divest himself of his great- 
 coat, "letter from Dimmy! how's brudder Dimmy ? 
 Tell Touzle all about it, papa." 
 
 Mrs. Aldine, though not so demonstrative as 
 Touzle, was no less anxious to hear the contents of 
 the letter. 
 
 "Sit down, my dear, by the fife," she said, "and 
 when you feel perfectly cosy, let us all together hear 
 what our darling has written." 
 
 Mr. Aldine, be it observed, never opened the 
 letters from his boy but with his wife beside him. 
 It was a delicate attention, and a very small thing, 
 it may be, but take the small things out of life, and 
 we have little left but murders and bank robberies. 
 
 "Well, here goes!" said Mr. Aldine, as he opened 
 the envelope and spread out the letter. 
 
 ST. MAURE'S COLLEGE, November 4th. 
 Mr. and Mrs. John Aldine. 
 MY DEAR PARENTS: 
 
 A knock at the door, so sharp, so vicious, as to 
 cause Mrs. Aldine to start violently, and Touzle to 
 jump with great alacrity from his father's knee, here 
 interrupted the reading. 
 
 "Come in," said Mr. Aldine. 
 
 Touzle. took refuge behind his mother's skirts, as
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 221 
 
 a short, dark, ill-featured man, with bristling black 
 whiskers, entered the room. For a moment Mr. 
 Aldine gazed at the stranger in some perplexity. 
 
 " It's Mr. Hartnett, who has called several times 
 in your absence to inquire for James," whispered 
 Mrs. Aldine. 
 
 " Oh, pardon me, Mr. Hartnett," cried Mr, Aldine, 
 advancing and shaking his visitor's hand. " I 
 ought to know your face by this time. Sit down." 
 
 " Well," Mr. Hartnett made answer, as he seated 
 himself, " I can't blame you for not knowing me, for 
 although I have called on you several times I have 
 always missed you. " 
 
 " I thank you, sir, for your goodness," cried Mr. 
 Aldine, "and especially for the interest which I 
 understand you take in my boy." 
 
 "Won't you take tea with us ? " asked the wife. 
 
 "Thanks, with pleasure; it's chilly outside, and 
 a cup of tea isn't such a bad thing in this weather. 
 By the way, have you heard from the boy lately? 
 You can't imagine what an interest I take in him. 
 I met him once or twice and am convinced that he'll 
 one day make his mark." 
 
 " We have just received a letter from him," said 
 Mr. Aldine, highly pleased as what father would 
 not be ? at these praises of his boy, " and, perhaps, 
 if I read a little of it to you, you may not take it 
 amiss." 
 
 "My dear sir," said Hartnett with much warmth, 
 "you are too good; I shall be delighted. Touzle, 
 you little rogue," he said to the child, " come here 
 and look at my pretty watch." 
 
 But Touzle, who had thus far persistently clung 
 to his mother's skirts, was not to be tempted from
 
 $24 ' TOM PLAYFA1R. 
 
 behind his intrenchments. With his great, round 
 eyes staring severely on Mr. Hartnett, he neither 
 spoke nor moved. It is said that little children 
 have an instinctive knowledge of good and bad peo- 
 ple. Whether this be true or not, it is certain that 
 Touzle had decided views relative to Mr. Hartnett, 
 and by no means favorable to that person. 
 
 " Here's the way the letter runs," said Mr. Aldine: 
 
 MY DEAR PARENTS : I am so glad to learn that you are 
 well, and that dear little Touzle is happy 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried Touzle in parenthesis. 
 
 I am very happy here, and like the boys very much. 
 Most of them are very good and kind, and only a few are mean. 
 I like my prefects very much my professor is just splendid. I 
 think he can teach more in a week than most other teachers in 
 a year. And now, my dear parents, I want to tell you some- 
 thing I have long kept secret. 
 
 "Halloa! what is this?" said Mr. Aldine, knitting 
 his brows, and reading what followed to himself. 
 He did not notice that Mr. Hartnett's face changed 
 color, and that his right hand was quickly thrust 
 into his side pocket and remained there. For a 
 moment there was silence, an awful silence had 
 the little family but known the thoughts of their 
 visitor! 
 
 " Why, this is strange !" said Mr. Aldine, at length. 
 " He says that he is the only witness of a crime 
 which he had sworn never to confess." 
 
 " What crime ?" asked Hartnett. 
 
 "He doesn't say; but promises to tell me about 
 it when I come to see him Christmas." 
 
 Mr. Hartnett's hand returned from his pocket, and 
 with a forced laugh, he said:
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. *2$ 
 
 "Oh, indeed! Perhaps it'll turn out to be a reg- 
 ular romance." At the harsh merriment of the vis- 
 itor, Mrs. Aldine could not refrain from shuddering. 
 Touzle hid himself entirely from view. 
 
 "Well, it's drawing on late," resumed Hartnett, 
 hastily drinking his tea, "and I'd better be going." 
 Awkwardly enough he took his departure. 
 
 " Dear John," said Mrs. Aldine, as the door closed 
 upon him, " I don't trust that man. Somehow I fear 
 he means us no good." 
 
 " You think so ?" said Mr. Aldine, in surprise. 
 
 " I do, indeed." 
 
 "He's a bad, bad man," said Touzle, stamping his 
 foot. 
 
 "Well, I'll keep my eyes open; that's all I car 
 do," said the strong-nerved husband. 
 
 Their suspicions would have been confirmed had 
 they seen Hartnett standing a few yards from their 
 door, his clinched hands raised in imprecation upon 
 their happy home. 
 
 About midnight, Hartnett issued from his lonely 
 house, valise in hand, and set off rapidly down the 
 public road. He was never again seen in Merlin. 
 
 At St. Maure's, on this same day, Tom was made 
 the happiest boy at college and that is saying a 
 good deal by receiving from home a box contain- 
 ing, among other things, a rubber coat, a pair of 
 Ice-King club skates, and a fine breech-loading shot- 
 gun for hunting purposes. Luckily it was recreation 
 day, and Tom, having obtained permission of the 
 prefect of discipline, joined the customary hunting 
 party, of which James Aldine was a member. Under 
 his friend's direction Tom learned very fast. His 
 eyes were good, his nerves strong. To his great joy
 
 24 TOM PLAY FA Ik. 
 
 he brought down a duck on his fourth shot. Tramp- 
 ing through the woods and over the prairies, stealing 
 cautiously up to game under cover of tree and bush, 
 and creeping along the margin of lake and river, 
 the day passed quickly indeed ; and Tom, with three 
 ducks in his hunting pouch, returned to college jubi- 
 lant. Before retiring, he had arranged with Harry, 
 Willie, James, and Joe to go on an all-day hunt that 
 day a week. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A JOYOUS GOING FORTH, AND A SAD JOURNEY HOME. 
 
 A MID-NOVEMBER morning, cold, blustering, 
 gloomy, the day of the great hunt. Shortly 
 after breakfast, five little lads scampered to the 
 gun-room, and arming themselves according to the 
 hunting traditions of St. Maure's, set out across the 
 prairie in the direction of Pawnee Creek. 
 
 "Well, I'm glad it's cold," Tom remarked as they 
 got clear of the college premises. "A boy enjoys 
 walking more in this kind of weather. He doesn't 
 feel like standing around doing nothing." 
 
 "And I'm glad it's cloudy," said Harry Quip, 
 "because we aren't in any danger of spoiling our 
 complexions." 
 
 " Every kind of weather is good," said James. 
 
 "Yes, even hot weather," remarked Willie Ruth- 
 ers. " Dear me, there'd heaps of folks be drowned 
 if it wasn't for hot weather, because no one would 
 ever learn to swim." 
 
 "Yes," said Harry, his eyes twinkling, "and on
 
 TOM PLAYFAlR. 225 
 
 the same principle I reckon there would be heaps of 
 folks frozen to death in winter, if there was no cold 
 weather, because folks wouldn't learn how to keep 
 themselves warm." 
 
 Suddenly James Aldine stopped walking. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked Tom, who was im- 
 mediately behind him. 
 
 "You are, Tom. Do you think I'm going to 
 walk in front of your gun, if you hold it with the 
 muzzle pointing where my brains are supposed to be ?" 
 
 "Oh, what's the difference? It isn't loaded." 
 
 "That's not certain. And, besides, I object to it 
 on principle. My father has often told me never to 
 hunt with any one who handles a gun carelessly. 
 Here, now, hold it this way, resting on your arm; 
 now, should it go off, you may bring down a cloud, 
 if your gun carries that far, but you won't hurt any 
 of us." 
 
 "Pshaw!" growled Tom, as he complied with the 
 request, " I thought a fellow who knew as much 
 about a gun as you wouldn't be afraid!" 
 
 " Just the opposite; the more you know about a 
 gun, the more respect you'll have for it. A child, 
 if he knows how to use a gun, is the equal of the 
 strongest man. It is a dreadful weapon. One little 
 load in it may carry death to the bravest." 
 
 James spoke earnestly; his words made a deep 
 impression on Tom. 
 
 At this point the conversation was cut short by 
 the appearance of a rabbit, which James despatched 
 with a skilful shot. Game was plentiful that day, 
 and before noon Tom succeeded in bagging his first 
 rabbit, along with a plump quail, while James 
 secured three rabbits and several birds. 
 15
 
 S2& TOM PLAYFAtA. 
 
 Thus wandering along the banks of the Pawnee 
 in the direction of the river, they stopped shortly 
 after midday at the skirts of the woodland which 
 sweeps along, perhaps a quarter of a mile in width, 
 on either side of the river, and partook of a homely 
 but hearty repast. 
 
 The boy who, after being on his feet half the 
 day, can sit down to a meal without appetite is not 
 worth writing about. Our little party are worth 
 writing about, indeed! Cold beefsteak, ham, 
 bread, cakes, and apples disappeared with wondrous 
 rapidity. 
 
 "My!" said Tom, "I wish we'd brought more!" 
 
 All echoed this sentiment. 
 
 "I tell you what; let's fix up a rabbit," said 
 Harry; "we can build a fire easily, and I'll cook." 
 
 The suggestion was favorably received, and in a 
 trice James was preparing the rabbit which Tom 
 had brought down; Harry was lighting a fire, while 
 the others collected sticks and dry leaves. They 
 had hardly put themselves to their interesting task, 
 when snow began to fall. 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried Harry, jumping to his feet, and 
 dancing about the fire, "we'll have a snow fort in 
 the yard to-morrow." 
 
 " Hurrah !" shouted the others, and all began 
 dancing about the fire. There is an inexpressible 
 charm in the first snowfall of the year, which glori- 
 fies a boy; every tiny little messenger falling radi- 
 ant, white-robed from the skies seems to whisper a 
 tale of glee to his responsive heart. Round and 
 round the fire the lads danced, faster and faster, 
 while thicker and larger fell the flakes. Their 
 dancing might have been prolonged indefinitely,
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 227 
 
 had not the embers given warning that more fuel 
 was needed. 
 
 " Hold on, boys!" cried Tom, who had just failed 
 in an attempt to execute a hand-spring, " we want 
 more wood, Jimmy; get your rabbit ready quick," 
 and off they danced in different directions. 
 
 By the time the rabbit was cooked, the ground 
 was hidden from view. 
 
 " We'll have plenty of fun going home," remarked 
 James, as they again fell to. 
 
 " How's that ?" asked Joe. 
 
 "Why, we can track rabbits over the snow." 
 
 "Hurrah for King Winter!" shouted Tom with 
 fresh exhilaration. 
 
 " I wonder when we'll have another meal as jolly 
 as this?" queried Harry. 
 
 "Who knows?" This from James Aldine. 
 
 " I say," said Tom, who was too healthy a lad to 
 indulge in conjecture, "I'd rather be here eating 
 this old rabbit, with the snow getting into my ears, 
 than at a turkey and ice-cream dinner in the most 
 stylishJiouse. " 
 
 No one seemed inclined to gainsay this statement; 
 and a few minutes later, having done full justice to 
 their fare, they resumed their hunt, each one peering 
 in every direction to discover rabbit tracks. 
 
 As they pushed along, Tom noticed that James, 
 who was lightly clad, shivered occasionally. 
 
 " Say, Jim, aren't you cold ? Here, take my coat, 
 I'm too warm for any use." 
 
 "No, no!" remonstrated James; "I'm used to 
 being out in the cold." 
 
 But Tom whipped off his garment before James 
 had fairly entered his protest, and with his grandest
 
 *2 T6M 
 
 air of authority made his friend put it on. Then, 
 clad in his sailor jacket and knickerbockers, the 
 sturdy young Samaritan trotted on as comfortable 
 in his light attire as though he were in the heats 
 of mid-summer. Genuine kindness is warmer than 
 any coat. 
 
 They were about two miles to the northwest of 
 the college (two and one-half from the village of St. 
 Maure beyond) when to their great joy they came 
 upon the long-looked-for tracks. On they ran with 
 new energy, but coming to the road, over which 
 many vehicles must have passed, they were brought 
 to a sudden halt. The prints had become confused 
 with the impress of wheels and horses' hoofs. 
 
 It may be observed, that the road lay between the 
 woods skirting the river and a long strip of land 
 known as the valley, which, stretching on either 
 side of the railroad track, changed gradually into 
 the wild, rolling prairie. 
 
 Tom was for following the road, Harry for mov- 
 ing through the valley on toward the prairie, while 
 James favored taking to the woods. By way of 
 compromise, they agreed to scatter, each following 
 his own plan. 
 
 So Tom, followed by Willie and Joe, trotted along 
 briskly some ten or fifteen minutes, when Joe, out 
 of breath, begged him to slacken his pace. Tom 
 paused, and suddenly, from right beneath his feet, 
 a rabbit which had been concealed in the brushwood 
 scampered forth. 
 
 Bang! went his gun; the rabbit fell dead. 
 
 "Ain't I getting to be a great hunter!" roared 
 Tom in undisguised admiration at himself. "Wait 
 one moment, boys, till I load up again Here goes
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. , 92$ 
 
 for a deadlier!" and he inserted his loaded shell. 
 "There's five fingers of buck-shot in that, enough 
 to kill six rabbits standing in a row." 
 
 " I say, Tom," said Willie, " it's getting dark!" 
 
 "So it is," assented Tom, taking out his watch. 
 "Why, halloa! it's near four o'clock. We'd better 
 get ready to start for the college, or we'll come late 
 for supper and get fifty lines each from Mr. Middle 
 ton. Come on, we must find the other boys." 
 
 Vigorous shouting soon brought Harry to theii 
 side, but shout as they might, James Aldine gave 
 no sign of being within ear-shot. Some minutes 
 passed, darkness was coming on apace. Joe Whyte 
 began to betray signs of nervousness, and Willie 
 Ruthers caught the feeling. Suddenly it was an 
 accidental circumstance, but none the less awkward 
 all ceased shouting, and the hush of the evening 
 seemed to take grim possession of each. Tom was 
 the first to break the silence. 
 
 "Well, I suppose we'd better take a trot into the 
 woods," he observed. 
 
 "Isn't it gloomy and silent under these trees?" 
 said Joe, as they picked their way among the trees. 
 
 " Isn't it, though !" said Willie. " I feel as though 
 I had the nightmare." 
 
 As they plunged into the woods they became more 
 and more solemn; their shoutings had ceased en- 
 tirely, and, indeed, they hardly spoke above ;i 
 whisper. The gloom and grim silence of the white 
 armed trees had exercised a spell upon them. Sud- 
 denly they heard a sound that made their blood run 
 cold ; it was a groan. 
 
 "Good God!" whispered Tom, crossing himself, 
 "but that sounded like Jimmy's voice. Come on,
 
 23 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 boys softly. Don't step on any twigs, but pick 
 your steps. I'm afraid Jimmy's in danger, and I 
 have reasons you don't know of;" and Tom, as he 
 moved forward, followed tremblingly by the others, 
 held his gun at full cock. 
 
 Another groan was heard. Tom's face became 
 pale as death, but his whole expression was none 
 the less determined. Bending low, and partially 
 protected from view by the bushes, they moved on 
 till Tom paused, his face alive with horror, stag- 
 gered, but recovered himself and raised his hand to 
 the others in warning. 
 
 Judge of their terror, as, in obedience to Tom's 
 gesture, they ranged themselves beside him and 
 gazed on the sight that had so stricken him. 
 
 In a pool of blood, its bright red color contrasting 
 so frightfully with the white snow, lay James Aldine. 
 Above him, a stained dagger in his hand, stooped a 
 man, dark, sullen, villanous, with the unholy light 
 of murder in his sinister eyes. He seemed to be 
 examining the poor child's features, as though to 
 make sure that he was dead. 
 
 As Tommy gazed, his expression changed from 
 horror to determination. Making a slight gesture 
 to his companions to remain quiet, he drew up his 
 gun and covered the stranger. Then, advancing 
 stealthily to within a few feet of the villain, who 
 was facing in the opposite direction, he said in a 
 clear, ringing voice: 
 
 " Drop that knife, or I fire!" 
 
 So sudden came the shock upon the stranger, that, 
 as he turned, his nerveless fingers let the dagger fall 
 to the earth, while his face assumed a look of the 
 most extreme terror.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. CJI 
 
 " Raise your hands above your head, at once, of 
 I fire," continued Tom, in the same inflexible tones. 
 The gun, pointed direct at the man's breast, was 
 as steady in the child's hands as though it were held 
 by a statue. 
 
 The determined face of the boy utterly cowed the 
 man. Up went his hands without delay. 
 
 "Now, sir, take that path right behind you and 
 go straight on at a steady walk till you come to the 
 road leading to St. Maure's; and I give you my 
 word that if you attempt to move from the path, 
 put down your hands, or turn around, I will shoot 
 you at once. I know you, Mr. Hartnett [at the 
 name the man's face put on new terror], and I know 
 that this is not your first murder. Now, turn round 
 and walk straight on." 
 
 "Take down that gun," chattered Hartnett; "it 
 might go off accidentally." 
 
 " It will go off if you don't do what I tell you." 
 
 Completely mastered, the man turned and mov*. J 
 forward, keeping Tom's directions to the letter. 
 Boy though his captor was, Hartnett perceived that 
 he was dealing with a man, as far as determination 
 went, and a very determined man at that. 
 
 As Tom, preceded by his captive, moved toward 
 the village, Harry, Willie, and Joe raised James 
 from the ground, wrapped him in their coats, and 
 tenderly bore him toward the college. 
 
 It were vain to attempt portraying adequately the 
 state of Tom's mind as he tramped steadily on after 
 the murderer. His imagination never wandered; 
 his whole being was fused into the determination to 
 bring that man to justice. The road was lonely 
 and deserted; not a sound smote the stillness; the
 
 2J2 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 minutes passed on into the quarters, but the steady 
 tread of captor and captive beat equal and silent 
 upon the yielding snow; the heavy gun covered its 
 object as though supported by muscles of steel; 
 sensation, fear, hope, all were kept in abeyance to 
 Tom's present purpose. The blinding snow dimmed 
 not his eyes, the cold stiffened not a limb. Whether 
 it was a minute, an hour, or a day that the stern 
 tramp lasted, Tom could never have told. His 
 senses, concentrated to a single purpose, were dead 
 to all else till the village was reached, and crowds 
 of men came thronging around him and his prisoner. 
 
 Then speech and his normal activities returned. 
 
 "Arrest this man," he said; "he is a murderer!" 
 
 Strong hands were laid upon Hartnett; Tom's 
 gun slipped from his grasp, a mist swam before his 
 eyes. 
 
 "My brave boy," said a gentleman, catching his 
 hand, " you must be cold, and worn out too. Let 
 me put my coat about you." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Tom. 
 
 Then he staggered, blood issued from mouth and 
 nose, and he fell into the gentleman's arms senseless. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 StCKNESS. 
 
 DR. MULLAN'S face was graver than usual as he 
 issued that evening from the college infirmary 
 in the company of the reverend President. 
 
 " Both are critical cases, Father, and, indeed, I 
 have more fears for that brave little Playfair than
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 233 
 
 for the other. Aldine's wounds are not necessarily 
 fatal ; a good constitution will probably bring him 
 through. But the little hero is in danger of some- 
 thing worse than death. The strain upon his mind, 
 the force of his emotions, the terrible ordeal to 
 which his most remarkable will-power has subjected 
 him, have thrown him into a high fever. He may 
 recover, but, even then, his mind may be impaired 
 or his nerves shattered for life." 
 
 "God forbid!" said the President. "Do you con- 
 sider it advisable to write for the relatives of 
 either?" 
 
 " Well, it would be no harm to send for Aldine's 
 people; but as for Playfair, there's time enough. 
 We had better wait till we see how his case turns." 
 
 Both little sufferers were in a private room, re- 
 moved from the common ward of the infirmary. 
 James Aldine, weak, pale, hardly conscious, was 
 lying on his uninjured side, now and then giving 
 forth a feeble moan of pain. In another part of the 
 room lay Tom, his cheeks flushed with fever, his 
 eyes bright and wild. Harry sat beside him and 
 occasionally bathed his forehead. Whenever the 
 infirmarian approached, Tom would shiver with 
 horror, and would beg Harry, whom he called by 
 the name of some former acquaintance, to take that 
 man away, for he was a murderer, there was blood 
 upon his hands, could they not see the blood ? 
 there was murder in his every look. 
 
 About seven o'clock in the evening, when the 
 college boys had been safely housed in their respect- 
 ive study-rooms, Mr. Middleton, Tom's teacher, 
 prefect, and dear friend, entered the room, and, 
 strangely enough, Tom recognized him at once,
 
 234 TOM PLAYFAIR, 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Middleton," he cried, "will you help 
 me?" 
 
 "Certainly, my dear boy," said the prefect, grasp- 
 ing the fevered hands entreatingly extended to him, 
 " what can I do for you ?" 
 
 "Come close to me," said Tom, "I don't want 
 them to hear it. See them all watching me," he 
 cried, pointing around the room. "They are all in 
 the crime. Stoop down, Mr. Middleton, I want to 
 whisper to you." 
 
 The prefect bent low. 
 
 "They want to kill Jimmy, and they've poisoned 
 me, so's I can't help him; but you'll take my place, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Tommy; rely upon it, no one shall 
 touch a hair of his head." 
 
 "And, Mr. Middleton, I'm going to make my 
 First Communion to-morrow. It's Christmas, you 
 know, and I've waited oh, so long!" 
 
 " Not to-morrow, Tom." 
 
 The fevered patient took no notice of this answer. 
 
 "Where is Jimmy now?" asked Tom, presently. 
 
 " There he is lying on that bed." 
 
 Tom raised himself and looked in the direction 
 indicated. Then a strange, perplexed expression 
 came upon him, as though the true ideas of what 
 had so lately happened were striving vainly to 
 square with the wild vagaries of his fever. Ex- 
 hausted by the mental conflict, he fell back and, 
 still holding tightly the prefect's hand, closed his 
 eyes. 
 
 Toward nine o'clock that night, as Willie Ruthers 
 was sitting beside the other sufferer, James recovered 
 from his stupor.
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Willie," he said, "how did Tommy come to be 
 sick?" 
 
 Willie told him the story of Tom's heroism, and 
 of the high fever which the exposure and mental 
 strain had brought on him. The listener's eyes 
 filled with tears of gratitude to his brave companion, 
 but on hearing of Tom's great danger, his face grew 
 troubled. 
 
 "Tom is a real hero," he said, "and I shall pray 
 for him night and day, that he may get well." 
 
 Next morning all the students were unusually 
 subdued. Gathered together in knots, Tom's brav- 
 ery was the subject of universal panegyric; while 
 all, even the most flighty, were concerned at his 
 danger. 
 
 At all times, Harry, W T illie, and Joe were at the 
 side of their friends. Nothing could exceed their 
 devotedness. Ever and anon Aldine's face quiv- 
 ered with pain, but there constantly dwelt upon 
 it a gentle expression of resignation. The doctor 
 was satisfied with his symptoms. Tom's case seemed 
 to trouble him more. 
 
 Toward evening of the second day after the 
 hunting expedition, a lady entered and, kneeling 
 beside James, covered' his face with kisses. 
 
 "Don't be troubled, mamma," said James, hold- 
 ing her hand tenderly, " I am not suffering much ; 
 indeed I am not. Tom is in danger, and you must 
 pray for him." 
 
 Mrs. Aldine, who had heard the whole story, 
 presently went over to Tom. The poor child, who 
 had been tossing restlessly all day, started up on 
 seeing her, his face softened with joy. 
 
 "Oh, mamma," he cried, "why didn't you come
 
 236 TOM PLAY FAIR. 
 
 to me before ? Corne to me, mamma, and stay with 
 me always." He tenderly embraced Mrs. Aldine 
 his mother, poor child, was in heaven. "Mamma," 
 he continued, "there's something I'm so anxious' 
 to tell you. I'm to make my First Communion 
 Christmas, and you must pray for me that I do it 
 well. I used to be very wild at home, but I think 
 that I am not quite as I used to be. I've worked 
 hard to change, and it is partly on your account, 
 mamma. I know that you've been praying for me 
 ever since you went to heaven; and I remember 
 what you said to me just before you died. They 
 want to poison me before I can make it. But poison 
 doesn't hurt me. I'm used to it now. I'm glad 
 I'm sick. You can't fool me; I know I'm sick; 
 and it's just as easy to keep from sin if you're in 
 bed as it is anywhere else. Easier; I'd commit 
 murder, maybe, if I were out. I'd shoot shoot 
 shoot " and Tom ended this strange monologue 
 with jumping up into a sitting posture and clinching 
 his hands, while his eyes flashed in fury. 
 
 About sundown he changed for the worse. He 
 shrieked and cried, and could hardly be held down 
 in his bed. Toward midnight the doctor was sum- 
 moned. 
 
 "If his delirium lasts above twenty-four hours, 
 his case, I fear, is hopeless." 
 
 On hearing this, James called Willie, Joe, and 
 Harry to his bedside. 
 
 " Boys, I want you to join me in prayer," he said. 
 " I have made God a promise if He cures Tom. It 
 may not be His holy will to cure him; but let us 
 unite in prayer." 
 
 JL,ed by James, the boys, in low, fervent tones,
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 237 
 
 recited decade after decade to the Blessed Mother; 
 while Tom, hanging between life and death, was 
 soothed and restrained in his paroxysms by the kind 
 hands of Mrs. Aldine and Mr. Middleton. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 DEA TH. 
 
 IT was ten o'clock of the following day. Tom's 
 raving had gradually lessened. As the hours 
 wore on he became quiet, till at length, for the first 
 time since the eventful Thursday, he fell asleep. 
 
 "His life is saved," said the doctor; "but the 
 danger to his mind is not yet over. All now lies in 
 the hands of God." 
 
 " So much the more reason for our praying," said 
 James. "Come on, boys," he continued, addressing 
 his three friends, " let us take heaven by storm!' 
 
 Morning waned into afternoon, afternoon shaded 
 into night, and still Tom slumbered. Standing 
 about his bed, Mr. Middleton, Mrs. Aldine, and the 
 three boys anxiously watched the face of the sleeper. 
 
 A little after eight in the evening Tom's breath- 
 ing changed. He opened his eyes. All stood with 
 bated breath, awaiting his first words. 
 
 After gazing about vacantly for some seconds, he 
 stretched out his arms, gave a low sigh, and said, 
 "Good gracious! I'm all broken up!" 
 
 There was a smile upon every face; the tone was 
 so natural, so like Tom. 
 
 " Tom, old boy, don't you know me ?" cried Harry, 
 unable to restrain himself. 
 
 "I rather think I do. Why shouldn't I? But
 
 238 TOM PLAY FAIR. 
 
 what's the matter with you all ? I'm not a museum, 
 ami? You're all staring at me so ! And where in 
 the world am I, and what's the matter with my 
 head? It feels as light as a balloon!" 
 
 "Do you know, Tommy," said Mr. Middleton, 
 "that you've been sick for several days? Very 
 sick, indeed?" 
 
 " Let me think," said Tom, passing his hand over 
 his brow. " We were out hunting, and when we 
 came to the place where poor Jimmy was stabbed 
 we we what did we do, anyhow? Did I fall 
 down ? AncI did that man try to murder me ? And 
 what's become of Jimmy?" 
 
 "Here I am, Tom," cried James, who was sitting 
 up in his bed and literally brimming over with joy. 
 " I'm all right, and so are you. You brought that 
 murderer to jail. Don't you remember?" 
 
 "What what did I do?" Tom inquired. 
 
 "Listen," said Harry, and with no little astonish- 
 ment Tom heard his famous adventure narrated. 
 
 "Well, well, dear me!" he said at the conclusion, 
 " it may be all true, but there's one little question 
 I'd like to ask." 
 
 "Ask away," said Harry cheerfully. 
 
 "Well, I'd like to know if I was there when I did 
 all that?" 
 
 All laughed at the serio-comic way in which Tom 
 put this query. In truth, his question, under the 
 circumstances, was not extraordinary; nor is Tom 
 the only one who has been puzzled by the mystery 
 of his own identity. 
 
 "Tom," said Mrs. Aldine, when the invalid had 
 heard a full account of his recent doings, "don't 
 you know me ?"
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 239 
 
 "No, ma'am," he answered, with a blush, as he 
 encountered the sweet eyes of a refined lady fixed 
 upon his. 
 
 "While you were sick, you took me for your 
 mamma; and, indeed, if the love and gratitude of 
 one who has not the sacred name of mother can 
 supply her place, I shall do it. I am the mother of 
 James Aldine, whom you so bravely rescued." And 
 stooping down, Mrs. Aldine tenderly kissed the little 
 boy, as though, indeed, she were his mother. 
 
 To say that Joe, Harry, and Willie were happy, is 
 the mildest possible way of expressing their senti- 
 ments; they were beside themselves. Their joy 
 was threatening to develop into uproariousness, 
 when the innrmarian very wisely ordered them to 
 their respective dormitories. 
 
 From that night Tom's improvement was rapid. 
 He soon outstripped James in the race for health. 
 While Tom bustled in and out of the infirmary, 
 James kept his bed, his wound healing, but his 
 cheeks growing thinner and paler day by day. 
 
 "I say, Jimmy," said Tom, about one week from 
 the date of the crisis, " why don't you eat a decent 
 meal ?" 
 
 "I'm not hungry, Tom." 
 
 "That's no way to do; eat, anyhow; you're get- 
 ting thinner all the time." 
 
 "I know it, Tom; and, what is more, I believe I 
 shall never be well again." 
 
 " Nonsense! Humbug!" said Tom sturdily, though 
 his cheek blanched as he spoke. 
 
 " I do believe it, Tom, and I have reason. The 
 doctor of late looks troubled. He complains that 
 the wound isn't healing fast enough. And mamma
 
 24$ TOM PLAYFAJ&. 
 
 knows that 1 am in danger; for her face grows very 
 sad when she thinks I am not looking at her; and 
 once, after she had spoken with the doctor, I saw 
 her cry. But don't think, Tom, that I am anxious 
 to live; I had rather die, for I am ready. Should I 
 live, dear Tom, the day might come when I should 
 fall into some mortal sin. So far God has been so 
 good to me; He has given me a holy, pious mother, 
 and very dear, good friends," he pressed Tom's hand 
 as he said this, " and, by His grace, has kept me 
 out of all dangerous occasions. So I am happy at 
 the thought of dying now." 
 
 "Well, Jim," said Tom, with the tears starting to 
 his eyes, " I know you are ready, and I do wish I 
 was as good as you. You've got the makings of an 
 angel, but you mustn't die; I should lose my dearest 
 friend." 
 
 "No, no; indeed you won't," answered James 
 earnestly. " Please God, I shall be your friend in 
 another world. I would be of little use here; but 
 there I am sure I could help you far better. And, 
 Tom, I am not sorry to die, for another reason. I 
 don't think I could ever be happy here below. 
 I fret about things so easily. The least thing wor- 
 ries me." 
 
 "Yes, that's so," admitted Tom; "you do fret 
 about things. I'm not that way myself." 
 
 Toward evening Mr. Aldine, who had been East 
 on business, arrived at the college, bringing with 
 him Touzle. 
 
 Touzle entered the sick-room dancing with joy, 
 but on seeing his brother so pale and thin he 
 sobered very much. 
 
 "Poor Dimmy is sick," said the child, running
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. *V 
 
 his fingers through James's hair. "Where's the 
 wed on your cheeks, Dimmy?" 
 
 "Somebody whitewashed me," was the answer; 
 but Touzle was not convinced. 
 
 In December James was so weak that he was 
 unable to leave his bed. Tom had been about his 
 class duties for several weeks, but whenever he was 
 free he spent his time at the sufferer's side. As the 
 boy drew nearer the grave, his spirit seemed to draw 
 closer to God. At times the light of sanctity flick- 
 ered upon his face such a light as nothing but 
 exquisite purity and exalted holiness can enkindle. 
 
 Nor was Tom idle. Christmas was to be the day 
 of his First Communion. With all his resolute will 
 he applied himself to prepare for this august moment. 
 Many an hour would he spend with James, speaking 
 of the dearest of all miracles, the miracle of Our 
 Saviour's ineffable love. At night, too, he would 
 kneel long by his bed praying for love and grace; 
 and the boys began to remark that instead of the 
 dying saint Tom had arisen in his stead. 
 
 It was the eve of the great day. Just before 
 retiring for the night Tom repaired to the infirmary 
 to pay a last visit to his friend. The wan face of 
 James almost glowed with joy at his approach. 
 
 "Oh, Tom, I'm so glad to see you," he said, "for 
 I want to tell you the news. To-morrow, Tom, as 
 you go to Holy Communion for the first time, I 
 shall be receiving the last sacraments of the Church." 
 
 Tom was not dismayed; he had long expected 
 this. news. 
 
 "That is good," he said; "and I shall offer up 
 all my communion for you." 
 
 "Thank you, Tom; you are too good. But I 
 16
 
 442 TOM' PL A 
 
 wish now to tell you something else. Do you know 
 why I expected to die from so long ago?" 
 
 "Why?" asked Tom. 
 
 " Because when you were so sick I prayed and 
 prayed, night and day, that, if it might be, God 
 should take my life and spare yours. I knew you 
 would be of some use in the world, Tom, but I 
 would do little. So, Tom, you must try to do your 
 work, and mine too; and that, you know, is little 
 enough." 
 
 Tom was weeping. 
 
 "I am very glad to die," pursued James. "At 
 first, when I prayed to God, I was a little afraid of 
 being heard; for I had hoped, Tom, to live long 
 enough to be a priest, and to touch with my poor 
 hands Our Saviour Himself. I intended to give my 
 life to God; but God has come to take it before 
 I can give it." 
 
 Tom was still weeping. 
 
 "Mamma," said James, as his mother came up 
 and laid her head beside her darling boy's cheek, 
 " I know you do not refuse to give me up to God." 
 
 " No, my darling; if I loved you a thousand times 
 more, He should have you." 
 
 "I'm so glad, mamma; to-morrow will be Christ- 
 mas. Wouldn't it be nice were I to die then ? Then 
 you would give me to God on the very day God 
 gave Himself to you." 
 
 Tom was returning from the communion table, 
 his heart beating in unison with the heart of his 
 sweet Master, his radiant soul in the life-giving 
 embraces of her Spouse. How the minutes flew, as 
 he knelt in earnest commune with his loving Jesus!
 
 TOM PLAY FAIR. 243 
 
 He was a saint that morning one of those little 
 children whose souls are the glory of the Sacred 
 Heart. How long, how fervent, had been his prepa- 
 ration! But Tom now thanked God for the delay. 
 His soul had been purified by trial. And now that 
 the probation was over, Tom felt that he had been 
 in God's hands. It was truly his day of days. 
 
 Thanksgiving over, he hastened to the infirmary. 
 As he entered the room, Mrs. Aldine's sobs broke 
 upon his ear. He hastened to the bedside, but the 
 gracious eye of welcome was closed forever. A 
 sweet expression, ineffably sweet, lingered upon the 
 child's face, as though the body itself had, for one 
 last moment, shared in the happiness of the liberated 
 spirit. 
 
 "My God," murmured Tom from the fulness of 
 his heart, as he threw himself on his knees beside 
 the body, " Jimmy offered himself for me. Let me 
 take his place in life. If it be your will, my God, 
 I from this day give myself entirely to your work." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 AN ESCAPE FROM JAIL, AND THE BEGINNING OP A SNOW- 
 STORM. 
 
 STILL Christmas morning! In a narrow room, 
 lighted by one close-barred window, was Hart- 
 nett, worn no less by confinement than by anxiety. 
 His face had grown darker, his fierce eyes had be- 
 come bloodshot; while his beard, nails, and hair, 
 long neglected, imparted to his appearance an in- 
 crease of loathsomeness.
 
 444 TOM PLAYFAtR. 
 
 Like a caged tiger, he was fiercely, doggedly- 
 pacing up and down the room. Occasionally he 
 would pause to catch the interchange of greetings 
 from the passers-by without. They were merry 
 words; words beautiful in themselves, but colored 
 into beauty more gracious than the dawn by the 
 infinite Peace and Love that gave them birth; words 
 that brought back again that undying song of the 
 angels, that song of gladness, which, ringing down 
 the ages, will move the glad echoes of the human 
 heart till this world shall have passed away. " Merry 
 Christmas! Merry Christmas!" The words few, the 
 meaning simple. Yet, link them with the glad 
 smile, the bright eye, the look of love, the warm 
 pressure of the hand, and what a wealth of meaning 
 there is in the expression! It is the full-hearted 
 utterance of human sympathy, kindness and love, 
 raised into priceless value by the benediction of 
 Bethlehem's Babe. But upon the prisoner's heart, 
 long since attuned to the chords of anger and hatred, 
 these words grated harshly. Muttering maledictions 
 upon the authors of these cheery greetings, he re- 
 sumed his weary tramp, not blessed on this thrice- 
 blessed day by so small a gift as one kind thought. 
 By and by, a key from without rattled in the lock, 
 the door swung open, and the marshal entered the 
 room. 
 
 "Well, Hartnett," said the marshal, "your game's 
 about up." 
 
 "What's happened now?" 
 
 " The boy you stabbed died this morning. So 
 to-morrow you're to be removed to the jail at the 
 county-seat, if you're not lynched before you get 
 there."
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 24$ 
 
 The prisoner wiped his brow with his sleeve, his 
 breathing grew short, and an expression of abject 
 fear started upon his face. 
 
 " What do the people say about me ?" he gasped. 
 
 "There's not much said; they're rather quiet. 
 But their way of looking makes me reckon that you 
 won't get out of this jail more'n six foot before 
 you're in the hands of a mighty mad crowd. But I 
 guess we'll come a game on them. We'll take you 
 off to-morrow before daylight, before folks know 
 what's what." 
 
 " When are you coming for me ?" 
 
 " Oh, about four in the morning. Anything I can 
 do for you ?" 
 
 "No; I'll be ready when you come." 
 
 " Ain't you sorry that boy died ?" 
 
 No answer from Hartnett. 
 
 "Won't you feel nervous-1 ike to-night, with that 
 boy's face before you in the dark?" 
 
 "See here, now," said the murderer, "don't try 
 that on me. You needn't try to get me frightened. 
 The boy is dead, and that's an end of it." 
 
 The prisoner spoke with vehemence. 
 
 "Well, I can't wish you a merry Christmas, but I 
 do wish that you may come to realize what an awful 
 thing you have " 
 
 "Go away! Get out! Leave me!" shrieked 
 Hartnett, his bloodshot eyes growing hideous with 
 rage, and his fingers working in impotent passion. 
 
 "One moment," said the marshal, producing a 
 pair of handcuffs; "here's a pair of bracelets you 
 might as well try on." 
 
 " Now ?" exclaimed Hartnett, aghast. 
 
 " Why not ?"
 
 246 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 "Can't you wait till to-morrow?" he exclaimed, 
 drawing back. 
 
 "Come on; now's the time!" 
 
 "Marshal, I haven't asked you many favors since 
 I've been here. Please let me go free till we start 
 to-morrow; it's an ugly matter to have those affairs 
 on, and I'd like to put it off as lo^g as possible." 
 
 " Let's see," said the official dubiously. 
 
 " Why, I can't escape, man. Look at these bare 
 stone walls four ugly walls and a wretched, barred 
 window ; and that dismal low roof that I can almost 
 touch with my hand." 
 
 "Well, all right," ^aid the marshal; "but remem- 
 ber, on they go the first thing in the morning. I'll 
 leave them here for you to admire." And, carelessly 
 tossing the handcuffs on the prisoner's bed, the 
 marshal locked himself out. Had he seen the lurk- 
 ing smile of tr' niph on Hartnett's face, he might 
 have reconside 'iis favor. 
 
 Hartnett listeE ' itently till the retreating foot- 
 steps had becomr lible; then, going to his bed, 
 he turned up the ess, and inserting his hand 
 
 into a small openLig, drew forth a slender, steel, 
 saw-like instrument. Aftc pausing to assure him- 
 self that no one was near, he climbed up one of the 
 stone walls of the prison, by means of hardly per- 
 ceptible holes made for his feet, till his hands could 
 reach the wooden roof. His first act was to jerk 
 from the ceiling three strips of black cloth, which, 
 on being removed, discovered three long, narrow 
 chinks, plain in the sunshine, and needing only a 
 fourth chink to make a hole abundantly large enough 
 for his escape. The work already done had cost 
 him days and nights of patient labor, his instrument
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 47 
 
 being small and, in appearance, unsuited for the 
 purpose. He put himself to work now with re- 
 doubled energy. Presently the beginning of the 
 fourth narrow si it appeared. Half an hour passed; 
 hardly a quarter of an inch was done, and two feet 
 to be cut before three o'clock of the next morning. 
 Hartnett grew nervous at the thought, and pushed 
 his makeshift saw up and down with all his strength. 
 Suddenly there was a sharp snap his instrument 
 had broken. In the agony of the moment Hartnett 
 forgot himself, lost his hold, and fell heavily to the 
 floor, where, with a smothered curse still lingering 
 on his lips, he lay for some minutes stunned and 
 helpless. But the sound of footsteps without soon 
 brought him to his feet; and with an agility won- 
 derful under the circumstances, he again clambered 
 up the wall, deftly covered the betraying chinks 
 with cloth, then lightly dropped to the floor. 
 
 For the rest of the day he passed his time brood- 
 ing and sullen, now traversing his cell with hasty, 
 impatient strides, now tossing restlessly upon his 
 couch. Darkness at length came; the sounds of the 
 day died away. Toward midnight, perfect quiet 
 reigned. Hartnett's time had come. With the 
 handcuffs in one hand he again mounted, with all 
 his strength beat them against the part he had par- 
 tially cut away. One, two, three heavy blows and 
 the wood yielded a little. Another strong blow, 
 and another; and his escape was secured. A moment 
 later, he had gained the roof, leaped to the ground, 
 then skulked through the village, across the rail- 
 road track, out into the great undulating, deserted 
 prairie beyond. 
 
 Whither he was going he knew not. But, strange
 
 248 TOM PLA YFAIR, 
 
 as it may seem, no sooner was he free of his prison 
 walls than an overpowering sense of terror came 
 upon him. Did he seek the lonely prairie of his 
 own choice ? That was a question he could not have 
 answered himself. He seemed to be fleeing from 
 some pursuing evil. It might have been the bitter 
 wind of the chilling night; but there seemed to ring 
 in his ear a dying groan; there seemed to dance 
 before him a knife, dripping with blood; and the 
 wild angry jargon of many voices haunted him as 
 though a horde of demons were at his heels. The 
 very sky was dark and threatening; and strange, 
 weird shapes, clad in the sable vesture of the dead, 
 sprang up at every step before his startled eyes. 
 Hour after hour passed away, and still he pushed 
 wildly, madly on, his face quivering with fear and 
 horror. With the first streak of dawn his strength, 
 thus far supported by terror, deserted him; and 
 coming upon a lone tree standing amid the vast sol- 
 itude of the prairie, he threw himself beneath its 
 shelter, and losing his night's terror in the splendor 
 of the dawn, fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 Let us turn from this wretch to the side of the 
 dead child. His delicate, fragile hands clasped upon 
 his bosom and intertwined with the beads he had so 
 loved in life, his face calm and serene and telling a 
 tale of beatitude immortal, he lay in his white coffin, 
 surrounded by father, motherland little playmates, 
 subdued into unwonted gentleness as they entered 
 the chamber where death had dealt his kindliest 
 stroke. It was the morning after Christmas, and 
 James, it had been decided, was then to be buried. 
 
 "Not," said Mrs. Aldine, "that I am tired of 
 gazing upon the dear face of my angel boy, but
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 249 
 
 because death in a house where so many boys are 
 together would keep them in a sadness not suited to 
 the time." 
 
 Mr. Middleton, who had been James Aldine's 
 teacher, spoke a few last words. 
 
 He told the students of the child Jesus; of His 
 hidden youth, and of His love for little children. 
 Then he narrated, almost in the beautiful language 
 of the Gospel, the story of how Jesus, when He was 
 asked by the apostles who was the greatest in the 
 kingdom of heaven, took a child and set him in 
 their midst. " And," he continued, " when I consider 
 the little I have seen of our departed brother's life, 
 when I recall how earnestly, how devoutly, he sought 
 to love and imitate the Sacred Heart of Jesus, it 
 seems to me that such a one as this must our Divine 
 Lord have chosen to stand in the midst of His 
 apostles." 
 
 Slowly and solemnly the students, in ordered ranks, 
 devoutly reciting the rosary as they moved, walked 
 from the college toward the graveyard, which lay 
 a mile or so out upon the prairie. As they neared 
 the newly-made grave, snow began to fall in large 
 flakes. Before the burial services had concluded 
 the storm became blinding in its intensity. Mr. 
 Morton, the prefect of the large boys, was alarmed. 
 
 "Boys," he said in a loud voice, as the grave- 
 diggers were completing their task, and the students 
 were about to start for the college, " I warn you, on 
 peril of your lives, not to disperse on the road back. 
 This promises to be a terrible snow-storm, and were 
 you to lose your way, death on the prairie might be 
 the result. Form into ranks as before and I will 
 put two boys who know the prairie best at the head."
 
 2$ TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 It was very happy of the prefect to have taken 
 this decisive measure. At first some of the youthful 
 wiseacres grumbled, but when, with difficulty, all 
 had arrived safely at the college, it was generally 
 acknowledged that any other course might have led 
 to the loss of life. 
 
 } CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 END OF THE SNOW-STORM. 
 
 WHEN Hartnett awoke he found himself covered 
 with snow, and, hastily rubbing his eyes, dis- 
 covered with dismay that he was alone on the track- 
 less prairie in the face of the fiercest and most 
 blinding snow-storm that had ever come under his 
 experience. Starting to his feet, he pushed vigor- 
 ously ahead. But whither was he going? He could 
 not tell; mortal eye, were it ever so strong and 
 steady, could not have pierced the snow-veil which 
 stretched from earth to sky. Yet he must go on. 
 To stand in such a storm were to perish. As he 
 started out upon this enforced tramp, the snow was 
 already ankle-deep; after an hour's weary walking 
 it had deepened several inches. But it was a tramp 
 against death, and as the echo of the last night's 
 horrid voices rang in his memory, he pushed on as 
 though the whole demon-world were at his back. 
 Several hours passed, and finally the wanderer came 
 to a lone tree. One look, and he perceived that it 
 was the tree he had started from. 
 
 The wild, horrid explosion of curses that burst 
 from his lips fell idle upon the dreadful solitude, 
 but to his distorted fancy they seemed to be re-echoed
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. S5* 
 
 by a million hideous tongues; and more affrighted 
 than ever, he set forward again. Travel had now 
 become very difficult. At times he would fall into 
 a snow-drift, and on one occasion he was almost 
 suffocated before he could free himself. As the 
 afternoon advanced, a feeling of languor stole upon 
 him; his senses were losing their sharpness. This 
 but terrified him the more, for he knew that, should 
 he give way to this weakness, he was lost. On he 
 went, then, with the desperation of despair; on, on, 
 till darkness closed about him; on, on, till the rude 
 wind rose and howled and hooted after him, and 
 threw itself against him; on, on, till the voices of 
 the night were changed into groans and shrieks and 
 dirges; on, on, till, weary, frightened, hopeless, with 
 his stubbly beard and hair encrusted with ice, his 
 face numb with cold, he fell and stumbled over 
 some earth slightly raised above the level, fell in 
 such a manner that the raised earth served as a pil- 
 low for his head. The feeling of languor had now 
 become a positive force; he would not rise again 
 let hell or heaven do its worst, he cared not. Again 
 there rang in his ears a wild shout as of demon tri- 
 umph. Despair forced him once more to open his 
 eyes. Looking straight before him, he saw could 
 it be? a little child, clad in white and standing 
 looking down upon his face. Hartnett's eyes started 
 in terror; an expression as of the damned came over 
 his features, and with a low groan he fell back 
 senseless. 
 
 The day following the storm Tom with his 
 friends obtained permission to visit James Aldine's 
 grave. As they approached, Harry observed: 
 
 " Look at that tombstone standing up right beside
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 Jimmy's grave. It stands there all in white, like 
 the ghost of a child." 
 
 " If I were to see that in the dark," observed Joe, 
 " it would almost scare me to death." 
 
 "My God! look here!" cried Tom. 
 
 Tom had just removed a layer of snow from 
 Jimmy's grave, revealing to all the head of Hart- 
 nett, pale in death, but horrible, despairing, ghastly, 
 resting on the grave of the child he had murdered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THE early history of Tom Playfair is told. On 
 the day he made his First Communion, he may 
 be said to have "made his start" in life. All the 
 events dating from his first introduction to the 
 reader delay, disappointment, sorrow, disaster 
 all had converged into the shaping and perfecting 
 of that "day of days," into the moulding of a noble 
 character. 
 
 Tom had met with two tragic experiences beyond 
 the lot of most boys of his years and condition in 
 life, and he had borne them bravely. 
 
 He had suffered, moreover, a bitter trial, none 
 the less a trial that it was in part self-imposed, and 
 his act of obedience had purified and strengthened 
 him. 
 
 But he was still deficient; the evil effects of his 
 unequal home-training had not been entirely effaced. 
 About him there still lingered a touch of forward- 
 ness, and the shadow. of a boyish irreverence toward
 
 TOM PLA YFATR. 2^ 
 
 his elders. Mr. Meadow's influence had woven it- 
 self into his very texture. To borrow a schoolboy's 
 expressive phrase, he was somewhat "fresh. 1 " He 
 united in his character great physical and great 
 moral courage, but the sweet modesty and gentleness 
 which impart a lustre to perfect bravery were yet 
 to come. He was a manly boy; the manliness was 
 rough at the edges. 
 
 On the last day of the school year Tom tapped 
 at Mr. Middleton's door to exchange a few words 
 of farewell. 
 
 " Ah, Tom ; I'm glad you've come ! You're always 
 welcome, but now So you're going?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; and I've come to ask your pardon, Mr. 
 Middleton,. for all the trouble I've given you. You 
 know, sir, I can hardly help wriggling; and it's so 
 hard to keep quiet four hours a day, when there's 
 such a good chance for a little fun sometimes; 
 and then, sir, I've got to talk sometimes, I can't 
 hold in." 
 
 "Well, Tom, /haven't complained, have I?" 
 
 " No, sir; that's the way you make me feel mean. 
 You're so patient. If I were in your place, I'd 
 raise a row, sure." 
 
 "If I have been patient, I have had my reward; 
 for I'm glad to tell you, Tom, that your improve- 
 ment in conduct and in application has been so 
 steady that it could be noticed almost each week." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Tom, blushing. 
 
 Like most generous, noble-hearted boys, he was a 
 hero-worshipper ; and from the time of the memorable 
 interview between himself and Mr. Middleton, on 
 the day that Tom and Pitch smoked together, his 
 professor had been his hero. Tom had been con-
 
 254 TOM PLAYFAIR. 
 
 quered by kindness, a conquest, it is scarcely neces- 
 sary to say, no less creditable to the victor than to 
 the vanquished. 
 
 He had issued from that interview Mr. Middle- 
 ton's disciple; and a faithful disciple he had been. 
 No wonder, then, that his chubby cheeks colored 
 with pleasure at these kindly words of commenda- 
 tion. 
 
 "You remember, Tom," continued Mr. Middleton, 
 fixing an earnest look upon the little lad, "you 
 remember that letter I sent your father, neariy two 
 years ago ?" 
 
 "I shall never forget it, sir." 
 
 "Well, I ventured on a bold prediction in it, and 
 I have not been disappointed." 
 
 Tom could have kissed the hand extended to him; 
 in our American way, he squeezed it heartily. 
 
 "I must add, though," continued Mr. Middleton, 
 "that you've lost a friend you could ill spare." 
 
 "Jimmy Aldine?" 
 
 " Yes ; he had a gentleness and sweetness of dispo- 
 sition which exerted a marked influence upon you 
 for good. He was a true friend ; you needed such a 
 friend; so did Harry Quip. You and Harry have 
 helped each other, too; but James Aldine had an 
 influence that stepped in where yours and Harry's 
 stopped short. He was in a manner a visible guard- 
 ian angel to you both." 
 
 " He was like the fairy prince I read about the 
 other day when I was alone in the infirmary with a 
 sore throat and didn't know what to do with myself," 
 sighed Tom. " I got thinking of him when I was 
 reading. I miss him very much, sir. He was the 
 nicest boy I ever met."
 
 TOM PLA YFAIR. 2$3 
 
 *'Ah, Tom, if you could find another friend like 
 him!" 
 
 "Well, sir, I'm young yet, and there's no end of 
 good boys in the world, if a fellow could only find 
 them out. Maybe there'll be lots of nice new boys 
 here next year." 
 
 "Pray, Tom, pray for another James Aldine. " 
 
 " I will, indeed, sir." 
 
 And with a swelling heart he bade his teacher 
 farewell. 
 
 On that very day a Baltimore gentleman was 
 bidding farewell to his daughters and an only son, 
 the "fairy prince," who were departing for Cincin- 
 nati, to reside there with their aunt while their 
 father was to spend the summer in Europe with his 
 invalid wife. This was the beginning of events 
 which bore closely upon the conversation just re- 
 corded and upon the after-life of Tom. 
 
 Knowing nothing of this, Tom prayed all vaca- 
 tion for the new friend; and in September his prayer 
 was heard. 
 
 Those of my readers who are interested in Tom 
 will learn in 'Percy Wynn; or, Making a Boy of 
 Him," how and unaer what circumstances he met 
 with his "fairy prince." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS, 
 
 CINCINNATI: NEW YORK: CHICAGO: 
 
 943 MAIN ST. 36 AND 38 BARCLAY ST. 211-213 MADISON ST. 
 
 DOCTRINE, INSTRUCTION, DEVOTION. 
 
 ABANDONMENT; or, Absolute Surrender of Self to Divine Providence. Rev. 
 
 J. P. CAUSSADE, S.J. net, o 40 
 ADORATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. TESNIERB. Cloth, net, i 35 
 
 APOSTLES' CREED, THE. Rev. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i 10 
 
 ART OF PROFITING BY OUR FAULTS. Rev. J. TISSOT. net , o 40 
 
 BIBLE HISTORY. o 50 
 BIBLE HISTORY, PRACTICAL EXPLANATION AND APPLICATION 
 
 OF. Rev. J. J. NASH. net, t 50 
 
 BIBLE, THE HOLY. I oe 
 
 BLESSED VIRGIN, THE. Rev. Dr. KELLER. o 75 
 BOOK OF THE PROFESSED. 
 
 Vol. I. net, o 75 
 
 Vol. II. net, o 60 
 
 Vol. III. net, o 60 
 
 BOYS' AND GIRLS' MISSION BOOK. By the Redemptorist Fathers. o 40 
 
 CATECHISM EXPLAINED, THE. SPIRAGO-CLARKE. net, a 50 
 
 CATHOLIC BELIEF. FAA m BRUNO. 
 
 Paper, o 25; 100 copies, 15 oo 
 
 Cloth, o 50; 25 copies, 7 50 
 
 CATHOLIC CEREMONIES and Explanation of the Ecclesiastical Year. ABBE 
 
 DURAND. 
 
 Paper, o 30; 25 copies, 4 50 
 
 Cloth, o 60; 35 copies, 9 oo 
 
 CATHOLIC PRACTICE AT CHURCH AND AT HOME. Rev. ALEX. L. 
 A. KLAUDER. 
 
 Paper, o 30; 25 copies, 4 50 
 
 Cloth, o 60; 25 copies, 9 oo 
 
 CATHOLIC TEACHING FOR CHILDREN. WINIFRIDB WRAY. o 4 o 
 CATHOLIC WORSHIP. Rev. R. BRENNAN, LL.D. 
 
 Paper, o 15; 100 copies, 10 oo' 
 
 Cloth, o 25; 100 copies, 17 oo 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF TRUE DEVOTION. Rev. N. GROU, S.J. net, o 75 
 
 CHARITY THE ORIGIN OF EVERY BLESSING. o 60 
 
 CHILD OF MARY. Prayer-book for Children. o 60 
 
 CHILD'S PRAYER-BOOK OF THE SACRED HEART. o 20 
 
 CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE, SPIRAGO'S METHOD OF. . net, i 50 
 CHRISTIAN FATHER. Right Rev. W. CRAMER. 
 
 Paper, o 25; 25 copies, 3 75 
 
 Cloth, o 40; 25 copies, 6 oo 
 
 I
 
 CHRISTIAN MOTHER. Right Rev. W. CRAMER. 
 
 Paper, o 25; 25 copies, 3 75 
 
 Cloth, o 40; 25 copies, 6 oo 
 
 CHURCH AND HER ENEMIES. Rev. M. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i 10 
 
 COMEDY OF ENGLISH PROTESTANTISM. A. F. MARSHALL. net, o 75 
 
 COMPLETE OFFICE OF HOLY WEEK. o 50 
 
 CONFESSION. Per too, tut, 3 50 
 
 CONFIRMATION. Per 100, net, 3 50 
 
 CROWN OF THORNS, THE. o 40 
 
 DEVOTION OF THE HOLY ROSARY and the Five Scapulars. net, 075 
 DEVOTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE SICK-ROOM. KRBBS, C.SS.R. 
 Cloth, net, i oo 
 
 DEVOTIONS FOR FIRST FRIDAY. HUGUET. o 40 
 
 DEVOUT INSTRUCTIONS, GOFFINE'S. i oo; 25 copies, 17 50 
 
 DIGNITY AND DUTIES OF THE PRIEST; or, Selva, a Collection of Mate- 
 rial for Ecclesiastical Retreats. By St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 DIGNITY, AUTHORITY, DUTIES OF PARENTS, ECCLESIASTICAL 
 AND CIVIL POWERS. By Rev. M. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i 40 
 
 DIVINE OFFICE: Explanations of the Psalms and Canticles. By St. ALPHONSUS 
 DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 
 EPISTLES AND GOSPELS. o 25 
 
 EUCHARIST AND PENANCE. Rev. M. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i 10 
 
 EUCHARISTIC CHRIST, Reflections and Considerations on the Blessed Sac- 
 rament. Rev. A. TESNIERE. net, i oo 
 EUCHARISTIC GEMS. A Thought About the Most Blessed Sacrament for 
 Every Day in the Year. By Rev. L. C. COELENBIER. o 75 
 EXPLANATION OF COMMANDMENTS, ILLUSTRATED. i oo 
 EXPLANATION OF THE APOSTLES' CREED, ILLUSTRATED. i oo 
 EXPLANATION OF THE BALTIMORE CATECHISM OF CHRISTIAN 
 DOCTRINE. Rev. TH. L. KINKEAD. net, i oo 
 EXPLANATION OF THE COMMANDMENTS, Precepts of the Church. Rev. 
 M. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i 10 
 EXPLANATION OF THE GOSPELS and of Catholic Worship. Rev. L. A. 
 LAMBERT. 
 
 Paper, o 30; 25 copies, 4 50 
 
 Cloth, o 60; 25 copies, 9 oo 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE HOLY SACRAMENTS, ILLUSTRATED. i oo 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS. Rev. M. 
 
 V. COCHEM. I 25 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE OUR FATHER AND THE HAIL MARY. 
 
 Rev. R. BRENNAN, LL.D. o 75 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE PRAYERS AND CEREMONIES OF THE 
 
 MASS, ILLUSTRATED. Rev. D. I. LANSLOTS, O.S.B. i 25 
 
 EXPLANATION OF THE SALVE REGINA. LIGUORI. o 75 
 
 EXTREME UNCTION. o 10 
 
 too copies, 6 oo 
 
 FIRST AND GREATEST COMMANDMENT. By Rev. M. MULLER, C.SS.R. 
 
 net, i 40 
 
 FIRST COMMUNICANT'S MANUAL. o 50 
 
 100 copies, 25 oo 
 
 FLOWERS OF THE PASSION. Thoughts of St. Paul of the Cross. By 
 
 Rev. Louis TH. DE JESUS-AGONISANT. o 50 
 
 FOLLOWING OF CHRIST. THOMAS A KEMPIS. 
 
 With Reflections* o 50 
 
 Without Reflections, o 45 
 
 Edition de luxe, i 25 
 
 FOUR LAST THINGS, THE- Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell. Meditations. 
 
 Father M. v. COCHEM. Cloth, o 75 
 
 GARLAND OF PRAYER. With Nuptial Mass. Leather. o 9 c 
 
 2
 
 GENERAL CONFESSION MADE EASY. Rev. A. KONINGS, C.SS.R. 
 
 Flexible, o is; 100 copies, 10 oo 
 
 GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. VBRHEYKN, O.S.B. 
 
 net, o 30 
 
 GLORIES OF DIVINE GRACE. Dr. M. J. SCHEEBEN. net, i 50 
 
 GLORIES OF MARY. St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. 2 vols., net, 2 50 
 
 Popular ed. i vol., ! 25 
 
 GOD THE TEACHER OF MANKIND. MULLER. o vols. Per set, net, 9 50 
 GOFFINE'S DEVOUT INSTRUCTIONS. 140 Illustrations. Cloth, i oo 
 
 25 copies 17 50 
 
 GOLDEN SANDS. Little Counsels for the Sanctification and Happiness of 
 Daily Life. 
 
 Third Series, o 50 
 
 Fourth Series, o 50 
 
 Fifth Series, o 50 
 
 GRACE AND THE SACRAMENTS. By Rev. M. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i 25 
 GREAT MEANS OF SALVATION AND OF PERFECTION. St. ALPHON- 
 SUS DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 GREAT SUPPER OF GOD, THE. A Treatise on Weekly Communion! By 
 Rev. S. COUBE, S.J. Edited by Rev. F. X. BRADY, S.J. Cloth, 
 
 net i oo 
 
 GREETINGS TO THE CHRIST-CHILD, a Collection of Poems for the Young. 
 
 Illustrated. o 60 
 
 GUIDE TO CONFESSION AND COMMUNION. o 60 
 
 HANDBOOK OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. By Rev. W. WILMERS, S. J. 
 
 net, i 50 
 
 HARMONY OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Rev. H. J. HEUSER. net, i 25 
 
 HEART OF ST. JANE FRANCES DE CHANTAL. Thoughts and Prayers 
 
 Compiled by the Sisters of the Divine Compassion. net, o 40 
 
 HIDDEN TREASURE: The Value and Excellence of the Holy Mass. By 
 
 St. LEONARD of Pt. Maurice. o 50 
 
 HISTORY OF THE MASS. By Rev. J. O'BRIEN. net, i 25 
 
 HOLINESS OF THE CHURCH IN XIX. CENTURY. SCHEEBEN. o 10 
 
 HOLY EUCHARIST. By St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. The Sacrifice, the 
 
 Sacrament, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ. Novena to the Holy Ghost. 
 
 net, i 25 
 
 HOLY MASS. By Rev. M. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i 25 
 
 HOLY MASS. By St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 
 HOW TO COMFORT THE SICK. Rev. Jos. A. KREBS. C.SS.R. Cloth, 
 
 net, i oo 
 
 HOW TO MAKE THE MISSION. By a Dominican Father. Paper, o 10; 
 
 per 100, 5 oo 
 
 ILLUSTRATED PRAYER-BOOK FOR CHILDREN. o 25 
 
 IMITATION OF CHRIST. See ' Following of Christ." 
 IMITATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. Translated by Mrs. A. 
 
 R. BENNETT -GLADSTONE. 
 
 Plain Edition, o 50 
 
 Edition de luxe, i 50 
 
 IMITATION OF THE SACRED HEART. By Rev. F. ARNOUDT, S.J. i 25 
 INCARNATION, BIRTH, AND INFANCY OF JESUS CHRIST; or, the 
 
 Mysteries of Faith. By St ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 
 INDULGENCES, A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO. Rev. P. M. BERNAD, O.M.I. 
 
 o 75 
 
 IN HEAVEN WE KNOW OUR OWN. By PERE BLOT, S. J. o 60 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE CATHOLIC FATHER. 
 
 Right Rev. Dr. A. EGGER. o 60 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE CATHOLIC MOTHER. 
 
 Right Rev. Dr. A. EGGER. o 6<r 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR CATHOLIC YOUTH. o 60
 
 tNSTRL f CfiONS FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS, By Rev. fir. J. gcHMiff. 
 
 net, o 50 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS ON THE COMMANDMENTS OP GOD and the Sacra- 
 ments o* the Church. By St. ALPHONSUS DE LiGUORI. 
 
 Paper, o 25; 25 copies, 3 75 
 
 Cloth, o 40; 25 copies, 6 oo 
 
 INTERIOR OF JESUS AN,D MARY. GROU. 2 vols.. net, 2 oo 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO A DEVOUT LIFE. By St. FRANCIS DE SALES. 
 
 Cloth, o 50 
 
 LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. 4 vols., each vol., net, i 25 
 LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI and General Alphabetical Index 
 to St. Aiphonsus' Works. net, i 25 
 
 LITTLE ALTAR BOY'S MANUAL. o 25 
 
 LITTLE BOOK OF SUPERIORS.' net, o 60 
 
 LITTLE CHILD OF MARY. A Small Prayer-book. o 35 
 
 LITTLE MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY. LASANCK. o 25 
 
 LITTLE MANUAL OF ST. JOSEPH. LINGS. o 25 
 
 LITTLE MONTH OF MAY. By ELLA McMAHON. Flexible, o 25 
 
 LITTLE. MONTH OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY. o 25 
 
 LITTLE OFFICE OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 0.05. per 
 
 100, 2 SO 
 
 LITTLE PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. New cheap edition. i oo 
 LITTLE PRAYER-BOOK OF THE SACRED HEART. By Blessed MAR- 
 GARET MARY ALACOQUE. o 40 
 LIVES OF THE SAINTS. With reflections for every day of ths year. 
 Large size. i 50 
 LIVING CHURCH OF fHE LIVING GOD. COPPENS. o.io, per 100, 6 oo 
 MANUAL OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Complete Manual of Devotion of 
 the Mother of God. o 60 
 MANUAL OF THE HOLY EUCHARIST. Conferences on the Blessed Sac- 
 rament and Eucharistic Devotions. By Rev. F. X. LASANCE. o 75 
 MANUAL OF THE HOLY FAMILY. o 60 
 MANUAL OF THE HOLY NAME. o 50 
 MANUAL OF THE SACRED HEART, NEW. o 50 
 MANUAL OF THE SODALITY OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. o 50 
 MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY, NEW. o 60 
 MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY, LITTLE. LASANCE. o 25 
 MANUAL OF ST. JOSEPH, LITTLE. LINGS. o 25 
 MARI^ COROLLA. Poems by Father EDMUND of the Heart of Mary, C.P. 
 Cloth, i 25 
 MASS DEVOTIONS AND READINGS ON THE MASS. By Rev. F. X. 
 LASANCE. o 75 
 MAY DEVOTIONS, NEW. Rev. AUGUSTINE WIRTH, O.S.B. net, t oo 
 MEANS OF GRACE. By Rev. RICHARD BRENNAN, LL.D. 2 50 
 MEDITATIONS FOR ALL THE DAYS OF THE YEAR. By Rev. M. 
 HAMON, S.S. 5 vols., net, 5 oo 
 MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. BAXTER. net, t 25 
 MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. Rev B. VER- 
 CRUYSSE, S.J. 2 vols., net, 2 75 
 MEDITATIONS FOR RETREATS. St. FRANCIS DE SALES. Cloth, net, o 75 
 MEDITATIONS ON THE FOUR LAST THINGS. Father M. v. COCHEM. 
 
 o 75 
 
 MEDITATIONS ON THE L.'.T: WORDS FROM THE CROSS. Father 
 CHARLES PERRAUD. net, o 50 
 
 MEDITATIONS ON THE LIFT:. Tlif, TEACHINGS, AND THE PAS- 
 SION OF JESUS CHRIST. II.G-CLARK.. v.->ir net, 3 5 
 MEDITATIONS ON THE MONTH OF OUR LAUV. o 75 
 
 4
 
 MEDITATIONS ON THE PASSION OF T JTl LORD. o 40 
 
 MEDITATIONS ON THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS CHRIST. By Rev. 
 FRANCIS DA PERINALDO. net, o 75 
 
 METHOD OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE, SPIRAGO'S. Edited by Right 
 Rev. S. G. MESSVER. net, i 50 
 
 MISCELLANY. Historical sketch of the Congregation of the Most Holy Re- 
 deemer. Rules and Constitutions of the Congregation of the Most Holy 
 Redeemer. Instructions on the Religious State. By St. ALPHONSUS DE 
 LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 
 MISSION BOOK FOR THE MARRIED. Very Rev. F. GIRARDEY, C.SS.R. o 50 
 MISSION BOOK FOR THE SINGLE. Very Rev. F. GIRARDEY, C.SS.R. o 50 
 MISSION BOOK OF THE REDEMPTORIST FATHERS. A Manual of 
 Instructions and Prayers to Preserve the Fruits of the Mission. Drawn 
 chiefly from the works of St. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. o 50 
 
 MISTRESS OF NOVICES, THE, Instructed in Her Duties. LEGUAY. 
 
 net, o 7 < 
 
 MOMENTS BEFORE THE TABERNACLE. Rev. MATTHEW RUSSELL, S.J. 
 
 net, o 40 
 
 MONTH, NEW, OF THE HOLY ANGELS. SL. FRANCIS DF. SALES. o 25 
 
 100 copies, 19 oo 
 
 MONTH, NEW, OF THE SACRED HEART. St. FRANCIS DE SALES, o 25 
 
 MONTH OF MAY; a Series of Meditations on the Mysteries of the Life of the 
 
 Blessed Virgin. By F. DEBUSSI, S.J. o 50 
 
 MONTH OF THE DEAD; or. Prompt and Easy Deliverance of the Souls in 
 
 Purgatory. By ABBE CLOQUET. o 50 
 
 MONTH OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY. The Little "Golden Sands." 
 
 o 25 
 
 MOST HOLY SACRAMENT. Rev. Dr. Jos. KELLER. o 75 
 
 MY FIRST COMMUNION, the Happiest Day of My Life. BRENNAN. o 75 
 
 MY LITTLE PRAYER-BOOK. Illustrated. o 12 
 
 NEW MAY DEVOTIONS. WIRTH. net, i oo 
 
 NEW MONTH OF THE HOLY ANGELS. o 25 
 
 NEW MONTH OF THE SACRED HEART. o 25 
 
 NEW SUNDAY-SCHOOL COMPANION. o 25 
 
 NEW TESTAMENT. Cheap Edition. 
 
 32tno, flexible cloth, net, 015 
 
 32mo, lambskin, limp, round corners, gilt edges, net, o 75 
 
 NEW TESTAMENT. Illustrated Edition. 
 
 i6mo, printed in two colors, with 100 full-page illustrations, net, o 60 
 
 i6mo, Rutland Roan, limp, solid gold edges, net, i 25 
 
 NEW TESTAMENT. India Paper Edition. 
 
 Lambskin, limp, round corners, gilt edges, net, i oo 
 
 Persian Calf, limp, round corners, gilt edges, net, i 25 
 
 Morocco, limp, round corners, gold edges, gold roll inside, net, i 50 
 
 NEW TESTAMENT. Large Print Edition. 
 
 1 2mo, large, new type, net, o 75 
 
 I2ino, French Levant, limp, gold edges, net, i 25 
 
 NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES. By Right Rev. Mgr. THOMAS J. CONATY, 
 
 D.D. i2tno, o 60 
 
 OFFICE, COMPLETE, OF HOLY WEEK. o 50 
 
 ON THE ROAD TO ROME. By W. RICHARDS. net, o 50 
 
 OUR LADY OF GOOD COUNSEL IN GENAZZANO. Mgr. GEO. F. DILLON, 
 
 D.D. o 75 
 
 OUR FAVORITE DEVOTIONS. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. LINGS. o 75 
 
 OUR FAVORITE NOVENAS. Very Rev. Dean A. A. LINGS. o 73 
 
 OUR MONTHLY DEVOTIONS. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. LINGS. i 25 
 
 OUR OWN WILL AND HOW TO DETECT IT IN OUR ACTIONS. Rev. 
 
 JOHN ALLEN, D.D. net, o 73 
 
 PARACLETE, THE. Devotions to the Holy Ghost. o 60 
 
 5
 
 PARAD"" ON EARTH OPENED TO ALL: A Reli-Ious Vocation the Surest 
 Wa.. 1.1 i,i;e. By Rev. ANTONIO NATALE, S.J. net, o 40 
 
 PASSI J., AX.) DEATH OF JESUS CHRIST. By St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORL 
 
 net, i 25 
 
 PASSION FLOWERS. Poems by Father EDMUND of the Heart of Mary, 
 C.K i 25 
 
 PEARLS FROM FABER. BRUNOWE. 050 
 
 PEOPLE'S MISSION BOOK, THE. Paper, o.io; per 100, 6 oo 
 
 PEPPER AND SALT, SPIRITUAL. STANG. 
 
 Paper, 0.30; 25 copies, 4 50 
 
 Cloth, 0.60; 25 copies, 9 oo 
 
 PERFECT RELIGIOUS, THE. DE LA MOTTE. Cloth, net, i oo 
 
 PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. New edition, with Reflections for 
 Every Day in the Year. 2 50 
 
 PIOUS PREPARATION FOR FIRST HOLY COMMUNION. Rev. F. X. 
 LASANCE. Cloth, o 75 
 
 POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS ON MARRIAGE. Very Rev. F. GIRARDEY, C.SS.R 
 Paper, 0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 
 
 Cloth,' 0.40; 25 copies, 6 oo 
 
 POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS ON PRAYER. By Very Rev. FERREOL GIRARDEY, 
 C.SS.R. Paper, 0.25, 25 copies, 3 75 
 
 Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 oo 
 
 POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS TO PARENTS on the Bringing up of Children. 
 By Very Rev. F. GIPARDEY, C.SS.R. Paper, 0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 
 
 Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 oo 
 
 PREACHING. Vol. XV. St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. The Exercises of the 
 Missions. Various Counsels. Instructions on the Commandments and 
 Sacraments. net, i 25 
 
 PREPARATION FOR DEATH. St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. Considerations 
 on the Eternal Truths. Maxims of Eternity. Rule of Life. net, i 25 
 
 PRODIGAL SON; or, the Sinner's Return to God. net, i oo 
 
 REASONABLENESS OF CATHOLIC CEREMONIES AND PRACTICES. 
 Rev. J. J. BURKE. o 35 
 
 RELIGIOUS STATE. THE. With a Treatise on the Vocation to the Priesthood. 
 By St. ALPHONSUS DS LJGUORI. o 50 
 
 REVELATIONS OF THE SACRED HEART to Blessed Margaret Mary. Bou- 
 GAUD. Cloth, net, i 50 
 
 ROSARY, THE CROWN OF MARY. By a Dominican Father. o 10 
 
 Per 100, S 
 
 ROSARY, THE MOST HOLY. Meditations. CRAMER. o 5 
 
 SACRAMENTALS OF THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. Rev. A. A. 
 LAMBING, D.D. Paper, 0.30; 25 copies, 4 50 
 
 Cloth, 0.60; 25 copies, 9 oo 
 
 SACRAMENTALS Prayer, etc. By Rev. M. MULLER, C.SS.R. net, i oo 
 
 SACRED HEART, THE. Rev. Dr. JOSEPH KELLER. o 75 
 
 SACRIFICE OF THE MASS WORTHILY CELEBRATED, THE. By Rev. 
 Father CHAIGNON, S.J. net, i 50 
 
 SECRET OF SANCTITY. St. FRANCIS DE SALES. net, i oo 
 
 SERAPHIC GUIDE, THE. A Manual for the Members of the Third Order of 
 St. Francis. By a Franciscan Father. o 60 
 
 SHORT CONFERENCES ON THE LITTLE OFFICE OF THE IMMACU- 
 LATE CONCEPTION. Very Rev. J. RAINER-. o 50 
 
 SHORT STORIES ON CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. From the French by MARY 
 McMAHON. net, o 75 
 
 SHORT VISITS TO THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. LASANCE. o 25 
 
 SPIRAGO'S METHOD OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. Edited by Rt. Rev. S. 
 G. MESSMER. net, i 50 
 
 SPIRITUAL CRUMBS FOR HUNGRY" LITTLE SOULS. MARY E. RICHARD- 
 SON. o 50 
 
 SPIRITUAL DIRECTION. net, o 6c 
 
 6
 
 SPIRITUAL EXERCISES FOR A TEN DAYS' RETREAT. Very Rev. v. 
 SMETANA, C.SS.R. net, i oo 
 
 SPIRITUAL PEPPER AND SALT. STANO. 
 
 Paper, 0.30: 25 copies, 4 5 
 
 Cloth, 0.60; 25 copies, 9 oo 
 
 SODALISTS' VADE MECUM. o 50 
 
 SONGS AND SONNETS By MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN. i oo 
 
 SOUVENIR OF THE NOVITIATE. By Rev. EDWARD I. TAYLOR, net, o 60 
 ST. ANTHONY, LITTLE MANUAL OF. o 60 
 
 ST. ANTHONY. Rev. Dr. Jos. KELLER. o ?S 
 
 STATIONS OF THE CROSS. Illustrated. o 50 
 
 STORIES FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS. Rev. J. A. KELLER, D.D. o 50 
 STRIVING AFTER PERFECTION. Rev. JOSEPH BAYMA, SJ. net, i oo 
 
 SURE WAY TO A HAPPY MARRIAGE. Rev. EDWARD I. TAYLOR. 
 
 Paper, 0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 
 
 Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 oo 
 
 THOUGHTS AND COUNSELS for the Consideration of Catholic Young Men. 
 
 Rev. P. A. Doss, SJ. net, i 25 
 
 THOUGHTS FOR ALL TIMES. Mgr. Vaughan. o 90 
 
 TRAVELLER'S DAILY COMPANION. o 05 
 
 Per 100, 3 5 
 
 TRUE POLITENESS. ABBE FRANCIS DEMORE. net, o 60 
 
 TRUE SPOUSE OF JESUS CHRIST. By St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGXIORI. a vols. 
 
 net, a 50 
 
 The same, one volume edition, net, i oo 
 
 TWO SPIRITUAL RETREATS FOR SISTERS. By Rev. E. ZOLLNER. net, i oo 
 VENERATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Her Feasts, Prayers, Religious 
 Orders, and Sodalities. By Rev. B. ROHNER, O.S.B. i 25 
 
 VEST-POCKET GEMS OF DEVOTION. o 20 
 
 VICTORIES OF THE MARTYRS; or, the Lives of the Most Celebrated Martyrs 
 of the Church. Vol. IX. By ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 
 VISITS TO JESUS IN THE TABERNACLE. Hours and Half Hours of Adora- 
 tion before the Blessed Sacrament. With a Novena to the Holy Ghost and 
 Devotions for Mass, Holy Communion, etc. Rev. F. X. LASANCE, Cloth, i 25 
 VISITS TO THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. LASANCE. o 25 
 
 VISITS TO THE MOST HOLY SACRAMENT and to the Blessed Virgin Mary. 
 By St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. o 50 
 
 VOCATIONS EXPLAINED: Matrimony, Virginity, The Religious State, and the 
 Priesthood. By a Vincentian Father, o.io; 100 copies, 6 oo 
 
 WAY OF INTERIOR PEACE. By Rev. Father DE LEHEN, SJ. net, i 25 
 
 WAY OF SALVATION AND PERFECTION. Meditations, Pious Reflections, 
 Spiritual Treatises. St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 
 WAY OF THE CROSS. Paper, 0.05; too copies, a 50 
 
 JUVENILES. 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A CASKET. 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A FRENCH CAPTAIN. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE WITH THE APACHES. By GABRIEL FERRY. 
 
 ANTHONY. A Tale of the Time of Charles II. of England. 
 
 ARMORER OF SOLINGEN. By WILLIAM HERCHENBACH. 
 
 AS TRUE AS GOLD. MANNIX. 
 
 BENZIGER'S JUVENILE SERIES. No. i. Each Vol., 
 
 BENZIGER'S JUVENILE SERIES. No. 2. Each Vol., 
 
 BERKLEYS, THE. WIGHT. 
 
 BERTHA; or, Consequences of a Fault. 
 
 7
 
 BEST FOOT FORWARD. By Father FINN. 8$ 
 
 BETTER PART. O 45 
 
 BISTOURI. By A. MELANDRI. o 40 
 
 BLACK LADY AND ROBIN RED BREAST. By CANON SCHMID. o .-5 
 
 BLANCHE DE MARSILLY. o 45 
 
 BLISSYLVANIA POST-OFFICE. , By MARION AMES TAGGART. o 40 
 
 BOB O'LINK. WAGGAMAN. o 45 
 
 BOYS IN THE BLOCK. By MAURICE F. EGAN. o 25 
 
 BRIC-A-BRAC DEALER. o 45 
 
 BUNT AND BILL. CLARA MULHOLLAND. o 45 
 
 BUZZER'S CHRISTMAS. By MARY T. WAGGAMAN. 025 
 
 BY BRANSCOME RIVER. By MARION AMES TAGGART. o 45 
 
 CAKE AND THE EASTER EGGS. By CANON SCHMID. o 25 
 
 CANARY BIRD. By CANON SCHMID. o 40 
 
 CAPTAIN ROUGEMONT. o 45 
 
 CASSILDA; or the Moorish Princess. o 45 
 CAVE BY THE BEECH FORK, THE. By Rev. H. S. SPALDING, S.J. Cloth, 
 
 o 85 
 
 CLAUDE LIGHTFOOT; or, How the Problem was Solved. By Father FINN, o 85 
 COLLEGE BOY, A. By ANTHONY YORKE. Cloth, o 85 
 CONVERSATION ON HOME EDUCATION. o 45 
 DIMPLING'S SUCCESS. By CLARA MULHOLLAND. o 40 
 EPISODES OF THE PARIS COMMUNE. An Account of the Religious Persecu- 
 tion, o 45 
 ETHELRED PRESTON, or the Adventures oc a Newcomer. By Father FINN. 
 
 o 85 
 
 EVERY-DAY GIRL, AN. By MARY C. CROWLEY. o 45 
 
 FATAL DIAMONDS. By E. C. DONNELLY. o 25 
 FINN, REV. F. J., S.J.: 
 
 HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. Illustrated. i oo 
 
 THE BEST FOOT FORWARD. o 85 
 
 THAT FOOTBALL GAME. o 85 
 
 ETHELRED PRFSTON. o 85 
 
 CLAUDE LIGHTFOOT. o 83 
 
 HARRY DEE. o 85 
 
 TOM PLAYFAIR. o 8s 
 
 PERCY WYNN. o 85 
 
 MOSTLY BOYS. o 8s 
 
 FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. o 45 
 
 FIVE O'CLOCK STORIES; or. The Old Tales Told Again. o 75 
 
 FLOWER OF THE FLOCK, THE, and the Badgers of Belmont. By MAURICB 
 
 F. EGAN. o 83 
 
 FRED'S LITTLE DAUGHTER. By SARA TRAINER SMITH. o 40 
 
 GERTRUDE'S EXPERIENCE. o 4$ 
 
 GODFREY THE HERMIT. By CANON SCHMID. o 25 
 
 GOLDEN LILY, THE. HINKSON. o 45 
 
 GREAT-GRANDMOTHER'S SECRET. o 45 
 
 HARRY DEE; or, Working it Out. By Father FINN. o 85 
 
 HEIR OF DREAMS, AN. By SALLIE MARGARET O'MALLET. o 45 
 
 HER FATHER'S RIGHT HAND. o 45 
 
 HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. By Father FINN. i oo 
 
 HOP BLOSSOMS. By CANON SCHMID. o 25 
 
 HOSTAGE OF WAR, A. By MARY G. BONESTEEL. o 40 
 
 HOW THEY WORKED THEIR WAY. By MAURICE F. EGAN. o 75 
 
 INUNDATION, THE. CANON SCHMID. o 40 
 
 JACK HILDRETH AMONG THE INDIANS, a. vols., each, o 8s 
 
 8
 
 JACK HILDRETH ON THE NILE. By MARION AMKS TAGCART. Cloth, 
 
 85 
 JACK O 1 LANTERN. By MARY T. WAGGAMAN. 
 
 JUVENILE ROUND TABLE. 
 
 KLONDIKE PICNIC. By ELEANOR C. DONNELLY. 
 
 LAMP OF THE SANCTUARY. By Cardinal WISEMAN. 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE HOLY CHILD JESUS from Many Lands. By A. Pow ER 
 
 LUTZ. 
 
 LITTLE MISSY. By MARY T. WAGGAMAN. 
 
 LOYAL BLUE AND ROYAL SCARLET. By MARION A. TAGGART. 
 MADCAP SET AT ST. ANNE'S. By MARION J. BRUNOWB. 
 MARCELLE. A True Story. 
 MARY TRACY'S FORTUNE. SADLIER. 
 MASTER FRIDOLIN. By EMMY GIEHRL. 
 MILLY AVELING. By SARA TRAINER SMITH. Cloth. 
 MOSTLY BOYS. By Father FINN. 
 MYSTERIOUS DOORWAY. By ANNA T. SADLIER. 
 MY STRANGE FRIEND. By Father FINN. 
 NAN NOBODY. By MARY T. WAGGAMAN. 
 OLD CHARLMONT'S SEED-BED. By SARA TRAINER SMITH. 
 OLD ROBBER'S CASTLE. By CANON SCHMID. 
 OLIVE AND THE LITTLE CAKES. 
 OUR BOYS AND GIRLS' LIBRAP.Y. 14 vols., each 
 OUR YOUNG FOLKS' LIBRARY. 10 vols., each 
 OVERSEER OF MAHLBOURG. By CANON SCHMID. 
 PANCHO AND PANCHITA. By MARY E. MANNIX. 
 PAULINE ARCHER. By ANNA T. SADLIBR. 
 PERCY WYNN; or, Making a Boy of Him. By Father FINN. 
 PICKLE AND PEPPER. By ELLA LORAINE DORSEY. 
 PRIEST OF AUVRIGNY. 
 
 QUEEN'S PAGE. By KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON. 
 RECRUIT TOMMY COLLINS BONESTEEL. 
 RICHARD, or, Devotion to the Stuarts. 
 ROSE BUSH. By CANON SCHMID. 
 SEA-GULLS' ROCK. By J. SANDEAU. 
 SUMMER AT WOODVILLE. By ANNA T. SADLIBR. 
 TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE MIDDLE AGES. F. DB CAPBLLA. 
 TALES AND LEGENDS SERIES. 3 vols., each. 
 TAMING OF POLLY. By ELLA LORAINB DORSEY. 
 THAT FOOTBALL GAME: and What Came of It. By Father FINN. 
 THREE GIRLS AND ESPECIALLY ONE. By MARION A. TAGGART. 
 THREE LITTLE KINGS. By EMMY GIEHRL. 
 TOM PLAYFAIR; or, Making a Start. By Father FINN. 
 TOM'S LUCKPOT. By MARY T. WAGGAMAN. 
 TREASURE OF NUGGET MOUNTAIN. By M. A. TAGGART. 
 VILLAGE STEEPLE, THE. 
 
 WAGER OF GERALD O'ROURKE, THE. FINN-THIELB. net, 
 
 WINNETOU, THE APACHE KNIGHT. By MARION AMES TAGGART. 
 WRONGFULLY ACCUSED. By WILLIAM HERCHBNBACH. 
 
 9
 
 NOVELS AND STORIES 
 
 BEZALEEL. A Christmas Story. By MARION Mtzs TAGCART. net, o 35 
 
 "BUT THY LOVE AND THY GRACE." Rev. F. J. FINN, S.J. i oo 
 
 CIRCUS RIDER'ri DAUGHTER, THE. A Novel. By F. v. BRACKEL. i 25 
 CORINNE'S VOW. WAGGAMAN. i 25 
 
 CONNOR D'ARCY'S STRUGGLES. A Novel. By Mrs. W. M. BERTHOLDS. 
 
 i 25 
 
 DION AND THE SIBYLS. A Classic Novel. By MILES KEON. Cloth, i 25 
 FABIOLA; or, The Church of the Catacombs. By Cardinal WISEMAN. Popular 
 Illustrated Edition, 0.90; Edition de luxe, 5 oo 
 
 FABIOLA'S SISTERS. A Companion Volume to Cardinal Wiseman's "Fab- 
 iola." By A. C. CLARKE. ,i 25 
 
 HEIRESS OF CRONENSTEIN, THE. By the Countess HAHN-HAHN. 'i 25 
 HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER. KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON. ,i 25 
 
 IDOLS; or. The Secrets of the Rue Chaussee d'Antin. DE NAVERY i 25 
 
 IN THE DAYS OF KING HAL. By MARION AMES TAGGART. i 25 
 
 LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER. A Novel. By JOSEPHI NE MARIE. i oo 
 
 LINKED LIVES. A Novel. By Lady GERTRUDE DOUGLAS. i 50 
 
 MARCELLA GRACE. A Novel. By ROSA MULHOLLAND. Illustrated Edition. 
 
 u 25 
 
 MISS ERIN. A Novel. By M. E. FRANCIS. i 25 
 
 MONK'S PARDON, THE. A Historical Novel of the Time of Philip IV. of 
 Spain. By RAOUL DE NAVERY. i 25 
 
 MR. BILLY BUTTONS. A Novel. By WALTER LECKY. i 25 
 
 OUTLAW OF CAMARGUE, THE. A Novel. By A. DE LAMOTHB. i 25 
 
 PASSING SHADOWS. A Novel. By ANTHONY YORKE. i 25 
 
 PERE MONNIER'S WARD. A Novel. By WALTER LECKY. i s 
 
 PRODIGAL'S DAUGHTER, THE. By LELIA HARDIN BUGG. i oo 
 
 ROMANCE OF A PLAYWRIGHT. By Vte. HENRI DE BORNIER. i oo 
 
 ROUND TABLE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE AMERICAN CATHOLIC 
 NOVELISTS. Complete Stories, with Biographies, Portraits, etc. Cloth, 
 
 i So 
 
 ROUND TABLE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE FRENCH CATHOLIC NOV- 
 ELISTS. Complete Stories, with Biographies, Portraits, etc. Cloth, i 50 
 ROUND TABLE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE GERMAN CATHOLIC NOV- 
 ELISTS. Illustrated. i 50 
 ROUND TABLE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE IRISH AND ENGLISH 
 CATHOLIC NOVELISTS. Complete Stories, Biographies, Portraits, etc. 
 Cloth, i 50 
 TRUE STORY OF MASTER GERARD, THE. By ANNA T. SADLIER. i 25 
 VOCATION OF EDWARD CONWAY. A Novel. By MAURICE F. EGAN. 
 
 i as 
 
 WOMAN OF FORTUNE, A. By CHRISTIAN REID. i 25 
 
 WORLD WELL LOST. By ESTHER ROBERTSON. o 75 
 
 LIVES AND HISTORIES. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA Edited by Rev. J. P. X. 
 
 O'CoNOR. Cloth, net, i 25 
 
 BIBLE STORIES FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. Cloth. o 20 
 
 Paper, o 10 
 
 CHURCH HISTORY. BUSINGER. o 75 
 
 HISTORIOGRAPHIA ECCLESIASTICA quam Historic seriam Solidamque 
 
 Operam Navantibus. Accommodavit GUIL. STANG, D.D. net, i oo 
 
 HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. BRUECK. 2 vols., net, 3 oo 
 
 IO
 
 HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. By JOHN GILMARY SHEA, LL.D. 
 
 i So 
 
 HISTORY OF THE PROTESTANT REFORMATION IN ENGLAXD AND 
 IRELAND. By WM. COBBETT. Cloth, net, o 75 
 
 LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. By Rev. EUGENE GRIMM, C.SS.R. 
 Centenary Edition. 5 vols., each, net, i 25 
 
 LIFE OF BLESSED MARGARET MARY. By Mgr. BOUGAUD, Bishop of 
 Laval. net, i 50 
 
 LIFE OF CHRIST. Illustrated. By Father M. v. COCHEM. i 25 
 
 LIFE OF FR. FRANCIS POILVACHE, C.SS.R. Paper, net, o 20 
 
 LIFE OF MOST REV. JOHN HUGHES. BRANN. net, o 75 
 
 LIFE OF MOTHER FONTBONNE, Foundress of the Sisters of St. Joseph of 
 Lyons. By ABBE RIVAUX. Cloth, net, i 25 
 
 LIFE OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST. Cloth, net, 5 oo 
 
 LIFE OF SISTER ANNE KATHERINE EMMERICH, of the Order of St. Augus- 
 tine. By Rev. THOMAS WEGENER, O.S.A. net, i 50 
 LIFE OF ST. ALOYSIUS GONZAGA, of the Society of Jesus. By Rev. 
 J. F. X. O'CONOR, S.J. net, o 75 
 LIFE OF ST. ANTHONY. WARD. Illustrated. o 75 
 LIFE OF ST. CATHARINE OF SIENNA. By EDWARD L. AYME, M.D. i oo 
 LIFE OF ST. CLARE OF MONTEFALCO. LOCKE, O.S.A. net, o 75 
 LIFE OF MLLE. LE GRAS. net, i 25 
 LIFE OF ST. CHANTAL. BOUGAUD. net, 4 oo 
 LIFE OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Illustrated. By Rev. B. ROHNER, O.S.B. 
 
 i 25 
 
 LIGUORI, ST. ALPHONSUS, WORKS. Each. net, i 25 
 
 LITTLE LIVES OF SAINTS FOR CHILDREN. BERTHOLD. 111. Cloth, 075 
 LITTLE PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. New, cheap edition, i oo 
 
 LIVES OF THE SAINTS, With Reflections and Prayers for Every Day. i 50 
 NAMES THAT LIVE IN CATHOLIC HEARTS. By ANNA T. SADLIER. i oo 
 OUR LADY OF GOOD COUNSEL IN GENAZZANO. A History of that An- 
 cient Sanctuary. By ANNE R. BENNETT -GLADSTONE. o 75 
 OUTLINES OF JEWISH HISTORY, From Abraham to Our Lord. Rev. F. E. 
 GIGOT, S.S. net, i 50 
 OUTLINES OF NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY. By Rev. F. E. GIGOT, S.S. 
 Cloth, net, i 50 
 PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. Cloth, 2 50 
 REMINISCENCES OF RT. REV. EDGAR P. WADHAMS, D.D., First Bishop 
 of Ogdensburg. By Rev. C. A. WALWORTH. net, i oo 
 ST. ANTHONY, THE SAINT OF THE WHOLE WORLD. Rev. THOMAS P. 
 WARD. Cloth, o 75 
 STORY OF THE DIVINE CHILD. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. LINGS. o 75 
 STORY OF JESUS. Illustrated. o 60 
 VICTORIES OF THE MARTYRS. By St. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 VISIT TO EUROPE AND THE HOLY LAND. By Rev. H. FAIRBANKS, i 50 
 WIDOWS AND CHARITY. Work of the Women of Calvary and Its Foundress. 
 ABBE CHAFFANJON. Paper, net, o 50 
 
 THEOLOGY, LITURGY, SERMONS, SCIENCE AND 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ABRIDGED SERMONS, for All Sundays of the Year. By St. ALPHONSUS DB 
 LIGUORI. Centenary Edition. GRIMM, C.SS.R. net, i 25 
 
 BLESSED SACRAMENT, SERMONS ON THE. Especially for the Forty 
 Hours' Adoration. By Rev. J. B. SCHEURER, D.D. Edited by Rev. F. X. 
 LASANCE. net, i 50 
 
 II
 
 BREVE COMPENDIUM THEOLOGIAE DOGMATICAE ET MORALIS una 
 
 cum aliquibus Notionibus Theologiae Canonicae Liturgiae, Pastoralis et 
 
 Mysticae, ac Philosophiae Christianae. BERTHIER. net, 2 50 
 
 BUSINESS GUIDE FOR PRIESTS. STANG, D.D. net, o 85 
 
 CHILDREN OP MARY, SERMONS FOR THE. From the Italian of Rev. 
 
 F. CALLERIO. Edited by Rev. R. F. CLARKE, S.J. net, i 50 
 
 CHILDREN'S MASSES, SERMONS FOR. FRASSINETTI-LINGS. net, i 50 
 
 CHRISTIAN ANTHROPOLOGY. Sermons. By Rev. JOHN THEIN. 
 
 net, 2 50 
 
 CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY: God. DRISCOLL. net, i 25 
 
 CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. A Treatise on the Human Soul. By Rev. J. 
 T. DRISCOLL, S.T.L. net, i 25 
 
 CHRIST IN TYPE AND PROPHECY. Rev. A. J. MAAS, S.J., Professor of 
 Oriental Languages in Woodstock College. 2 vols., net, 4 oo 
 
 CHURCH ANNOUNCEMENT BOOK. net, o 25 
 
 CHURCH TREASURER'S PEW. Collection and Receipt Book. net, i o 
 
 COMMENTARIUM IN FACULTATES APOSTOLICAS EPISCOPIS NECNON 
 Vicariis et Praefectis Apostolicis per Modum Formularum concedi solitas 
 ad usum Venerabilis Cleri, imprimis American! concinnatum ab ANTONIO 
 KoN'iNos, C.SS.R. Editio quarto, recognita in pluribus emendata et aucta, 
 curante JOSEPH PUTZER, C.SS.R. net, 2 25 
 
 COMPENDIUM JURIS CANONICI, ad usum Cleri et Seminariorum mijus Re- 
 gionis aceommodatum. net, 2 oo 
 
 COMPENDIUM SACRAE LITURGIAE JUXTA RITUM ROMANUM UNA 
 cum Appendice de jure Ecclesiastico Particular} in America Foederata Sept. 
 vigente scripsit P. INNOCENTIUS WAPELHORST, O.S.F. Editio quinta emen- 
 dation net, 2 50 
 COMPENDIUM THEOLOGIAE DOGMATICAE ET MORALIS. BERTHIER. 
 
 net, 2 50 
 
 CONFESSIONAL, THE. By the Right Rev. A. ROEGGL, D.D. . net, i oo 
 
 DE PHILOSOPHIA MORALI PRAELECTIONES quas in Collegio Georgiopo- 
 
 litano Soc. Jesu, Anno 1889-90 Habuit P. NICOLAUS Russo. Editio altera. 
 
 net, 2 oo 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL DICTIONARY. By Rev. JOHN THEIN. net, 5 oo 
 
 ELEMENTS OF ECCLESIASTICAL LAW. By Rev. S. B. SMITH, D.D. 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL PERSONS. net, 2 50 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL PUNISHMENTS. net, 2 50 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL TRIALS. net, 2 50 
 
 FUNERAL SERMONS. By Rev. AUG. WIRTH, O.S.B. 2 vols., net, 2 oo 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF HOLY SCRIPTURES. 
 
 By Rev. FRANCIS E. GIGOT, S.S. Cloth, net, 2 oo 
 
 GOD KNOWABLE AND KNOWN. By Rev. MAURICE RONAYNB, S.J. 
 
 net, i 25 
 
 GOOD CHRISTIAN, THE. Rev. J. ALLEN, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 
 HISTORY OF THE MASS AND ITS CEREMONIES IN THE EASTERN 
 
 AND WESTERN CHURCH. By Rev. JOHN O'BRIEN. net, i 25 
 
 HUNOLT'S SERMONS. 12 vols., net, 25 oo 
 
 HUNOLT'S SHORT SERMONS. 5 vols., net, 10 oo 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. GIGOT. 
 
 net, 2 oo 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT. Vol. I. 
 
 GIGOT. net, i 50 
 
 JESUS LIVING IN THE PRIEST. MILLET-BYRNE. net, 2 oo 
 
 LAST THINGS, SERMONS ON THE FOUR. HUNOLT. Translated by Rev. 
 
 JOHN ALLEN, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 
 LENTEN SERMONS. Edited by AUGUSTINE WIRTH, O.S.B. net, 2 oo 
 
 LIBER STATUS ANIMARUM; or, Parish Census Book. Pocket Edition, 
 
 net, o 25; half leather, net, a o 
 
 12
 
 MORAL PRINCIPLES AND MEDICAL PRACTICE, THE BASIS 6P 
 
 ICAL JURISPRUDENCE. By Rev. CHARLES COPPENS, S.J., Professor 
 
 of Medical Jurisprudence in the John A. Creighton Medical College, Omaha, 
 
 Neb ; Author of Text-books in Metaphysics, Ethics, etc. net, i 50 
 
 NATURAL LAW AND LEGAL PRACTICE. HOLAIND, SJ. net, i 75 
 
 NEW AND OLD SERMONS. A Repertory of Catholic Pulpit Eloquence. Ed- 
 
 ited by Rev. AUGUSTINE WIRTH, O.S.B. 8 vols., net, 16 oo 
 
 OFFICE OF TENEBRAE, THE. Transposed from the Gregorian Chant into 
 
 Modern Notation. By Rev. J. A. McCALLEN, S.S. net, o 50 
 
 OUTLINES OF DOGMATIC THEOLOGY. By Rev. SYLVESTER Jos. HUNTER, 
 
 SJ. 3 vols., net, 4 50 
 
 OUTLINES OF NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY. GIGOT. Cloth, net, i 50 
 PASTORAL THEOLOGY. By Rev. WM. STANG, D.D. net, i 50 
 
 PEXAXCE, SERMONS ON. By Rev. FRANCIS HUNOLT, SJ. Translated by 
 
 Rev. JOHN ALLEN. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 
 PENANCE, SEVEN LENTEN SERMONS. WIRTH. Paper, net, o 25 
 
 PENITENT CHRISTIAN, THE. Sermons. By Rev. F. HUNOLT. Translated 
 
 by Rev. JOHN ALLEN, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 
 PEW-RENT RECEIPT BOOK. net, i oo 
 
 PHILOSOPHIA, DE, MORALI. Russo. net, 2 oo 
 
 POLITICAL AND MORAL ESSAYS. RICKABY, SJ. net, i 50 
 
 PRAXIS SYNODALIS. Manuale Synodi Diocesanae ac Provincialis Cele- 
 brandae. net, o 60 
 
 REGISTRUM BAPTISMORUM. net, 3 50 
 
 REGI STRUM MATRIMONIORUM. net, 3 50 
 
 RELATION OF EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY TO PHILOSOPHY. Mgr. 
 DE MERCIER. net, o 35 
 
 RITUALE COMPENDIOSUM seu Ordo Administrandi quaedam Sacramenta 
 et alia Officia Ecclesiastica Rite Peragendi ex Rituali Romano, novissime 
 edito desumptas. net, o 90 
 
 ROSARY, SERMONS ON THE MOST HOfcY. FRINGS. net, i oo 
 
 SACRED HEART, SIX SERMONS ON DEVOTION TO THE. By Rev. Dr. 
 E. BIERBAUM. net, o 60 
 
 SANCTUARY BOYS' ILLUSTRATED MANUAL. Embracing the Ceremo- 
 nies of the Inferior Ministers at Low Mass, High Mass, Solemn High Mass, 
 Vespers, Asperges, Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament and Absolution for 
 the Dead. By Rev. J. A. McCALLEN, S.S. net, o 50 
 
 SERMON MANUSCRIPT BOOK. net, a oo 
 
 SERMONS. HUNOLT. 12 vols., net, 25 oo 
 
 SERMONS, ABRIDGED, FOR SUNDAYS. LIGUORI. net, i 25 
 
 SERMONS FOR CHILDREN OF MARY. CALLERIO. net, i 50 
 
 SERMONS FOR CHILDREN'S MASSES. FRASSINETTI-LINGS. net, i 50 
 
 SERMONS FOR THE SUNDAYS AND CHIEF FESTIVALS OF THE ECCLE- 
 SIASTICAL YEAR. With Two Courses of Lenten Sermons and a Triduum 
 lor the Forty Hours. By Rev. J. POTTGEISSER, SJ. a vols., net, a 50 
 
 SERMONS FROM THE LATINS. BAXTER. net. 2 oo 
 
 SERMONS, FUNERAL. WIRTH. a vols., net, a oo 
 
 SERMONS, HUNOLT' S, SHORT. 5 vols., net, 10 oo 
 
 SERMONS, LENTEN. WIRTH. net, a oo 
 
 SERMONS, NEW AND OLD. WIRTH. 8 vols. net, 16 oo 
 
 SERMONS ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART. BIERBAUM. 
 
 net, o TS 
 
 SERMONS ON OUR LORD, THE BLESSED VIRGIN, AND THE SAINTS. 
 HUNOLT. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 
 SERMONS ON PENANCE. HUNOLT. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 
 SERMONS ON THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. SCHEURER-LASANCB. net, i 50 
 SERMONS ON THE CHRISTIAN VIRTUES. By Rev. F. HUNOLT, S J. Trans- 
 lated by Rev. JOHN ALLEN, a vols., net, $ oo 
 
 '3
 
 SERMONS ON THE FOUR LAST THINGS. HuNbLf. 2 vols., net, $ 60 
 SERMONS ON THE ROSARV. FRINGS. net, i oo 
 
 SERMONS ON THE DIFFERENT STATES OF LIFE. By Rev. F. HUNOLT, 
 
 S.J. Translated by Rev. JOHN ALLEN. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 
 SERMONS ON THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS. By Rev. F. HUNOLT. S.J. 2 
 
 vols. Translated by Rev. JOHN ALLEN, D.D. net, 5 oo 
 
 SERMONS, SEVEN LENTEN, ON PENANCE. WIRTH. Paper, net, o 25 
 SHORT SERMONS. By Rev. F. HUNOLT, S.J. 5 vols., 10 oo 
 
 SHORT SERMONS FOR LOW MASSES. SCHOUPPE, S.J. net, i 25 
 
 SOCIALISM EXPOSED AND REFUTED. CATHREIN. net, i oo 
 
 SYNOPSIS THEOLQGIAE DOGMATICAE AD MENTEM S. THOMAE 
 AQUINATIS, hodiernis moribus accommodata, auctore AD. TANQUEREY, S.S. 
 3 vols., net, 5 25 
 
 SYNOPSIS THEOLOGIAE MORALIS ET PASTORALIS. Vol. I. TANQUE- 
 REY. net, i 75 
 THEOLOGIA DOGMATlCA SPECIALIS. TANQUEREY. 2 vols, net, 3 50 
 THEOLOGIA FUNDAMENTALS. TANQUEREY. net, i 75 
 THEOLOGIA MORALIS NOVISSIMI ECCLESIAE DOCTORIS ALPHONSI. 
 In Compendium Redacta, et Usui Venerabilis Cleri Americani accommodata. 
 Auctore Rev. A. KONINGS, C.SS.R. Editio septima, auctior et novis curis 
 expolitior curante HENRICO KUPER, C.SS.R. 2 vols , net, 4 oo 
 TWO-EDGED SWORD. By Rev. AUGUSTINE WIRTH, O.S.B. Paper, net, o 25 
 VADE MECUM SACERDOTUM, continens Preces ante et post Missam mo- 
 dum providendi infirmos, necnon multas Benedictionum Formulas. Cloth, 
 net, o.2T, morocco flexible, net, o 50 
 VIRTUES, SERMONS ON THE CHRISTIAN. HUNOLT. 2 vols., net, 5 oo 
 WHAT CATHOLICS HAVE DONE FOR SCIENCE. With Sketches of the 
 Great Catholic Scientists. By Rev. MARTIN S. BRENNAN. i oo 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN. By M. F. EGAN, LL.D. o 75 
 
 A LADY. Manners and Social Usages. By LELIA HARDIN BUGS. o 75 
 
 BENZIGER'S MAGAZINE. The Popular Catholic Family Magazine. Subscrip- 
 tion per year, 2 oo 
 BONE RULES; or, Skeleton of English Grammar. By Rev. J. B. TABB, A.M. 
 
 o 50 
 
 CANTATA CATHOLICA. By B. H. F. HELLEBUSCH. net, 2 oo 
 
 CATECHISM OF FAMILIAR THINGS. Their History, and the Events which 
 Led to Their Discovery. With a Short Explanation of some of the Principal 
 Natural Phenomena. i oo 
 
 CATHOLIC HOME ANNUAL. Stories by Best Writers. o 25 
 
 CORRECT THING FOR CATHOLICS, THE. By LELIA HARDIN Broo. o 75 ' 
 ELOCUTION CLASS. A Simplification of the Laws and Principles of Expres- 
 sion. By Ei EANOR O'GRADY. net, o 50 i 
 EVE OF THE REFORMATION, THE. An Historical Essay 9n the Religious, 
 Literary, and Social Condition of Christendom, with Special Reference to 
 Germany and England, from the Beginning of the Latter Half of the Fifteenth 
 Century to the Outbreak of the Religious Revolt. By the Rev. WM. STANG. 
 Paper, net, o 25 
 GAMES OF CATHOLIC AMERICAN AUTHORS: 
 PICTORIAL GAME OF CATHOLIC AMERICAN AUTHORS. 
 
 Series A, net, o 15 
 
 Series B, net, o 15 
 
 GAMES OF QUOTATIONS FROM CATHOLIC AMERICAN AUTHORS. 
 Series I., net, 015 
 
 Series II., net, 015 
 
 Series HI., net, 015 
 
 GUIDE FOR SACRISTANS and Others Having Charge of the Altar and Sanc- 
 tuary. By a Member of an Altar Society net, o 75 
 
 14
 
 HYMN-BOOK: OP SUNDAY-SCHOOL COMPANION. o $ s 
 
 HOW TO GET OX. By Rev. BERNARD FEENEY. i oo 
 
 LITTLE FOLKS' ANNUAL, o.io; per 100, 7 50 
 
 ON CHRISTIAN ART. By EDITH HEALY. o 50 
 
 READINGS AND RECITATIONS FOR JUNIORS. O'GRADY. net, o so 
 
 SELECT RECITATIONS FOR CATHOLIC SCHOOLS AND ACADEMIES. 
 
 By ELEANOR O'GRADY. i oo 
 
 STATISTICS CONCERNING EDUCATION IN THE PHILIPPINES. HEDGES 
 
 o 10 
 SURSUM CORDA. Hymns. Cloth, 0.25; per 100, 15 oo 
 
 Paper, 0.15; per 100, 10 oo 
 
 SURSUM CORDA. With English and German Text. o 45 
 
 THE BEST READING MATTER. 7OO-SOO ILLUSTRATIONS A YEAR. 
 
 BENZIGER'S MAGAZINE. 
 
 THE POPULAR CATHOLIC FAMILY MONTHLY. 
 
 Recommended by jo Archbishops and Bishops. 
 SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, $2.00 A YEAR. 
 
 Contains : Novels and Stories, Special Articles, Current Events, Father Finn's Corner 
 
 Woman's Department, Games and Amusements for the Young, etc., 
 
 and 700-800 illustrations a year. 
 
 AGENTS WANTED IN EVERY TOWN. WRITE FOR TERMS. 
 
 V* 
 
 15
 
 Return this material to the library 
 from which It was borrowed. 
 
 01 APR1? 
 
 DUE 2 WKS f KOM DATE RECEIVE 
 tUU-tLO 
 
 UCLARUILL 
 
 REC'D LD-URL 
 MAY 2 7 1998
 
 U: