Good For Evil
“For ’tis sweet to stammer one letter Of the Eternal’s language;—on earth it is called forgiveness!”
The Children of the Lord’s Supper.—Longfellow Tony’s face was almost the first thing he caught sight of. It was not late, but several children were already there, and Tony, contrary to his custom, instead of playing outside till the very last moment, was in the schoolroom eagerly searching for something among the slates and books belonging to his class. Gratian understood the reason, and smiled to himself inwardly—but had he smiled visibly I don’t think his face would have been improved by it. Nor was there real pleasure or rejoicing in the feeling of triumph which for a moment made him forget his smarting face and hands.”How red you look, Gratian,” said Dolly, Tony’s sister, “have you been crying?”
“Crying—no, nonsense, Dolly,” he replied in a tone such as gentle Gratian seldom used. “Whose face wouldn’t be red with such a horrible wind cutting one to pieces.”
“Wind!” repeated Dolly, “I didn’t feel any wind. It must have got up all of a sudden. Did you get home quickly?” Gratian looked at her. For half an instant he wondered if there was any meaning in her question—had Dolly anything to do with the trick that had been played him? But his glance at her kindly, honest face reassured him. He was going to answer when Tony interrupted him.
“Got home quick,” he said, looking up with a grin; “of course he did. He was in such a hurry to get to work. Didn’t you see what a lot of books he took home with him? My! your shoulders must have ached before you got to the Farm, Gratian. Mine did, I know, though ’twas only a short bit I carried your satchel.”
“It was pretty heavy,” said Gratian, unfastening it as he spoke, and coolly taking out the books one after another, watching Tony the while, “but nothing to hurt. And I got all my lessons done nicely. It was kind of you, Tony, to help me to carry my satchel.”
Tony stared—with eyes and mouth wide open.
“What’s the matter?” said his sister. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost, Tony.”
The boy turned away, muttering to himself.
“Tony’s put out this morning,” said Dolly in a low voice to Gratian, “and I can’t help being sorry too.
He’s lost his exercise-book that he was to copy out clear—and the master said it’d have to do with getting the prize. Tony’s in a great taking.”
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