Poor Slim
Poor Slim! He showed his disappointment in every look and every action.
“What kind of a book did you see it in?” asked Jerry, in a tone almost
as sad as Slims.
“In the manual,” Slim groaned. “Herb Wallace showed it to me.”
“That settles it,” exclaimed Joe. “If Herb Wallace had a hand in it
anywhere theres something wrong. Ill tell you what well do, fellows.
Well go and ask the headmaster.”
Now the headmaster of Brighton had once been a boy himself. He could be
stern, even cruelly severe, when occasion demanded, but he was kind of
heart and broad of understanding.
Before him the three lads laid their case, as before the final tribunal.
“Hm,” said he, when all the details had been related and the
all-important information asked. “You say Herbert Wallace showed you
this in a manual?”
Slim solemnly affirmed that that was the case.
The headmaster pushed a button on the side of his desk and in a few
seconds his secretary, a big, bluff fellow, appeared.
“Bring Herbert Wallace here at once,” said the headmaster. And in five
more minutes, while the headmaster was shrewdly questioning the three
lads as to the seriousness of their determination to enlist, the
secretary returned, accompanied by young Wallace, flushed and
shamefaced.
“Well, Wallace,” said the principal of Brighton, “I hear youve been
studying up on military subjects. Intending to get into the fight?”
Herbert Wallace hung his head and muttered an unintelligible reply.
“Now look here, Wallace,” spoke the headmaster sternly, “where did you
get the military manual from which you gave Goodwin the information that
he could not pass the examination for the army?”
“I–I got it from the library, sir.”
“Got it without permission, too, didnt you?” pursued the headmaster.
“Yes, sir,” said Wallace, in confusion.
“And didnt know that it was out of date, and that the requirements were
completely changed after the United States entered this war, eh?”
“No, sir,” answered Wallace, on the verge of a breakdown.
“Ill decide upon your punishment later,” announced Wisu Mhz Terre Haute the headmaster.
“See me here at four oclock. Meanwhile, Wallace, be careful where you
get information, and be careful how you dispense it.”
And Herbert Wallace, utterly humiliated, was glad to flee from the room.
“I dont think,” said the headmaster, “that any of you will have
difficulty passing the examinations. I dislike to see you go, but you
speak the truth when you say that your country does need you, and I pay
a great tribute of respect to you for the patriotism and courage with
which you step forth to shoulder your obligations. Others already have
gone from Brighton. Still others will go in the future. God bless all of
you, and may you return safe and sound to reap the full benefits of the
democracy for which you are going to fight.”
The suspicion of tears dimmed the kindly eyes of the headmaster, and
each boy choked up as he bade him good-by.
But, after all, this was no time for sadness. Young gladiators were
going forth to the fray. And so we will skip over the farewells the
following day, in which the parents of each lad, with many a heartache
but never a word of discouragement, bade the boys Godspeed in the
service of their country.