I said I didn't know. It wasn't there.
Then he said I might go to bed, and he would talk with me again in the morning.
When I got to our room, the boys were sound asleep. I crept into bed as still as a mouse. The moon shone in on me. I thought my eyes would never go to sleep again. I tried to think how much a flogging would hurt. Course, I knew 't wouldn't be like one of your little whippings. I wasn't so very much afraid of the hurt, though. But the name of being whipped, I was afraid of that, and the shame of it. Now I will tell you about the next morning, and how I was waked up.
My dear Grandmother, —
I had to leave off and jump up and run to school without stopping to sign my name, for the bell rang. But, now school is done, I will write another letter to send with that, because you will want to know the end at the same time you do the beginning.
It was little pebbles that waked me up the next morning, – little pebbles dropping down on my face. I looked up to find where they came from, and saw Tom Cush standing in the door. He was throwing them. He made signs that he wanted to tell me something. So I got up. And while I was getting up, I saw my overjacket on the back of a chair. I found out afterwards that Benjie brought it in, and forgot to tell me.
Tom made signs for me to go down stairs with him. He wouldn't let me put my shoes on. He had his in his hand, and I carried mine so. So we went through the long entries in our stocking-feet, and sat down on the doorstep to put our shoes on. Nobody else had got up. The sky was growing red. I never got up so early before, except one Fourth of July, when I didn't go to bed, but only slept some with my head leaned down on a window-seat, and jumped up when I heard a gun go off. Tom carried me to a place a good ways from the house. Our shoes got soaking wet with dew.
Now I will tell you what he said to me.
He asked me if I saw him anywhere the night before. I said I did.
He asked me where I saw him.
I said I saw him coming out of the hen-house, where Gapper Skyblue kept his rabbits. He asked me if I was sure, and I said I was sure.
"And did you tell the master?" says he.
I said, "No."
"Nor the boys?"
"No."
Then he told me he had been turned away from one school on account of his bad actions, and he wouldn't have his father hear of this for anything; and said that, if I wouldn't tell, he would give me a four-bladed knife, and quite a large balloon, and show me how to send her up, and if I was flogged he would give me a good deal more, would give money, – would give two dollars.
"I don't believe he'll whip you," says he, "for he likes you. And if he does, he wouldn't whip a small boy so hard as he would a big one."
I said a little whipping would hurt a little boy just as much as a great whipping would hurt a great boy. But I said I wouldn't be mean enough to tell or to take pay for not telling.
He didn't say much more. And we went towards home then. But before we came to the house, he turned off into another path.
A little while after, I heard somebody walking behind me. I looked round, and there was the master. He'd been watching with a sick man all night.
He asked me where I had been so early. I said I had been taking a walk. He asked who the boy was that had just left me. I said 't was Tom Cush. He asked if I was willing to tell what we had been talking about. I said I would rather not tell.
Says he, "It has a bad look, your being out with that boy so early, after what happened last night."
Then he asked me where I had found my overjacket. I said, "In my chamber, sir, on a chair-back."
"And how came it there?" says he.
"I don't know, sir," says I.
And, Grandmother, I almost cried; for everything seemed going against me, to make me out a bad boy. I will tell the rest after supper.
My dear Grandmother, —
Now I will tell you what happened that afternoon.
The school was about half done.
The master gave three loud raps with his ruler.
This made the room very still.
He asked the other teachers to come up to the platform. And they did.
Next, he waved his ruler, and said, "Fold."
And we all folded our arms.
It was so still that we could hear the clock tick.
He told Tom Cush to close the windows and shut the blinds.
Then he talked to us about stealing and telling lies. Said he didn't like to punish, but it must be done. He said he had reason to believe that the boy whose name he should call out was not honest, that he took other people's things and told lies.
Then he told the story, all that he knew about it, and said he hoped that all concerned in it would have honor enough to speak out and own it.
Nobody said anything.
Then the master said, "William Henry, you may come to the platform."
I went up.
Somebody way in the back part shouted out, "Don't believe it!"
"Silence!" said the master. And he thumped his ruler on the desk.
Then he told me to take off my jacket, and fold it up. And I did.
He told me to hand my collar and ribbon to a teacher. And I did.
Then he laid down his ruler, and took his rod and bent it to see if it was limber. It wasn't exactly a rod. It was the thing I told you about when I first came to this school.
He tried it twice on the desk first.
Then he took hold of my shoulder and turned my back round towards him. He said I had better bend down my head a little, and took hold of the neck of my shirt to keep me steady. I shut my teeth together tight.
At that very minute Bubby Short cried out, "Master! Master! Stop! Don't! He didn't do it! He didn't kill it! I know who! I'll tell! I will! I will! I don't care what Tom Cush does! 'T was Tom Cush killed it!"
The master didn't say one word. But he handed me my jacket.
The boys all clapped and gave three cheers, and he let them.
Then he said to me, whispering, "Is this so, William?" And I said, low, "Yes, sir."
Then he took hold of my hand and led me to my seat. And when I sat down he put his hand on my shoulder just as softly, – it made me remember the way my mother used to before she died, and, says he, "My dear boy," then stopped and began again, "My dear boy," and stopped again. If he'd been a boy I should have thought he was going to cry himself. But of course a man wouldn't. And what should he cry for? It wasn't he that almost had a whipping. At last he told me to come to his room after supper. Then Bubby Short was called up to the platform.
Now I will tell you how Bubby Short found out about it.
He sleeps in a little bed in a little bit of a room that lets out of Tom's. 'T isn't much bigger than a closet. But it is just right for him. That morning when Tom got up so early and threw pebbles at me, Bubby Short had been keeping awake with the toothache. And he heard Tom telling another boy about the rabbit.
He made believe sleep. But once, while Tom was dressing himself, he peeped out from under the bedquilt, with one eye, to see a black-and-blue spot, that Tom said he hit his head against a post and made, when he was running.
But they caught him peeping out, and were dreadful mad because he heard, and said if he told one single word they would flog him. But he says he would have told before, if he had known it had been laid to me.
Wasn't