Archies Mistake | Page 7

let, and which is at your disposal, if you like to take it. Other help, too, I hope to be able to render you."
Thus talking, they arrived at the hospital. Stephen had not made much progress, and was still alarmingly weak. Scanty food and constant anxiety had told terribly on his delicate constitution. But when he saw his father, and heard that he had been set free, and declared innocent, a new life seemed to come into him.
"I shall get well now, father," he said; "I feel I shall--only my head's so bad where the blow came that I can't think much. But that doesn't matter now; you'll look after the little 'uns. 'Twas the having all them on me, and thinking about you, that seemed to crush me down; though I knew you was innocent, father--I knew it all along. Thank God for making it clear, though. I asked Him to do it, night and day, and He's done it."
* * * * *
"Now, Archie, my boy," said Mr. Fairfax, as he and his son walked back together, "you see how entirely wrong you were in your hasty judgment."
"Yes, father, I do see;" and the lad's voice was full of feeling. "Stephen may never lose the effects of this time of cruel hardship. I might have been his friend, and I was his enemy instead."
"If I had listened, or allowed the foreman to listen, to your guesses, he might have been turned off altogether. It should be a lesson to you, Archie, never to injure another person's character again without absolute certainty, and even then only if it is necessary for the general good. Once gone, it is sometimes impossible to win back."
"I know--I know, father. I will try to be careful, and not so hasty."
"Don't judge merely by appearances, Archie. Above all, remember those words of the Great Teacher, 'Judge not, that ye be not judged.'"

"I KNOW BEST."
"So the choir treat is fixed for Thursday, and we're all going to the Crystal Palace! What jolly fun we shall have!"
The speaker was Walter Franklin, a village lad of eighteen. But Christopher Swallow, the friend to whom he addressed himself, a youth who looked rather older, did not receive the news with the pleasure Walter expected.
"The old Crystal Palace again!" he grumbled. "Bother! What's the good of going to the same place twice over? I call it foolery and rubbish."
"Oh, but the rector said that no one but you and three of the older men had been before; and when he asked them whether they would like anything else better, they said no. Benjamin Sorrell said that once for seeing all over such a big place was nothing, and he'd like to spend a week there."
"Let him, then; one day's enough for me. Of course, we must go as it's settled; but you won't catch me staying dawdling about, looking at the same old things over and over again as I see two years ago. I shall be off and enjoy myself somewhere else."
"But, Christopher, Mr. Richardson said most partic'lar we must all keep together or we should get lost; and we're all to wear red rosettes on our left shoulders, that we may know each other at a distance, if we should get separated by any accident."
"Oh, did he indeed?" replied Christopher scornfully. "P'raps some'll do it. I think I know one as won't."
Walter said no more. Chris was well known to be what the others called "cranky" in his temper; and when he considered, as he generally did, that he was right, and every one else wrong, there was nothing for it but to leave him alone.
When Thursday came, it was a most lovely September day. There was hardly any one among the thirty members of the Hartfield Parish Choir, who drove in two big wagonettes to the station, that did not look prepared to enjoy the day's outing to the utmost.
"Christopher don't look best pleased, though," thought Walter, as they drove along, glancing at his friend's gloomy face. "And there's Miss Richardson getting out the rosettes. I hope he won't go and make a row; but there's no telling."
The Hartfield Choir consisted of men, lads, and boys, with about half a dozen little girls. The boys and girls, of course, sang alto and treble; the lads alto, if they could manage nothing better; and the men bass and tenor. There were eight men between thirty and fifty years of age, six lads like Walter, and sixteen children.
Half were in one long brake with the rector, and half in another with the schoolmaster and Miss Richardson. About half-way between Hartfield and the station, Miss Richardson produced a white cardboard box, which she opened.
"Here," she said, taking out a very bright rosette made of red ribbon, and a packet