Ester Ried Yet Speaking | Page 8

In the midst of the quiet the closing-bell rang, and the seven young scamps seemed at once to take into their hearts seven other spirits worse than themselves, and behaved abominably during the closing exercises, and tumbled out of the door over each other, in the wildest fashion, the moment the signal was given, halting only to say, in the person of their leader:--
"You be on hand next Sunday; we like your yarns first rate."
Mrs. Roberts, with glowing cheeks, and eyes behind which there were unshed tears, made her way to the desk where Mr. Durant was standing, and spoke quickly:
"There is a difference between others who have tried it and myself, Mr. Durant. The sentence in Mr. Ried's account that gave me courage was, 'Every one has failed, so far; people are unwilling to take the class a second time.' I have failed, but I want to try again."
CHAPTER III.
"ANYTHING UNCOMMON ABOUT ME?"
Though they rushed out with even more noise than usual, every boy of them knew that the noise was to cover a certain sense of shame-facedness, because they had actually been beguiled into listening quietly for a few minutes to earnest words.
Directly they had reached the privacy of the street they became quieter.
"I say, boys," said Nimble Dick, "is that an awful green one, or a new kind?"
"New, I should say," replied one of the younger boys; "she ain't like anything that's been in that room since we got acquainted with it. I don't know her style, myself."
"What do you take it she meant by that stuff about being friends, and telling us where she lived, and all that?"
"Dunno what she meant; but she ain't green, you may bet your head on that. I'll tell you what I think, boys: I b'lieve she knows what she is about, every time."
What this sage conclusion amounted to, one not acquainted with the dialect of the street might have been at a loss to understand, but the rest of the party received it in grave silence and nods of the head, as though it were a thought that needed careful investigation. In common parlance, Jerry Tompkins had expressed the opinion that Mrs. Roberts had some point to gain in being so uncommonly polite and attentive to them, and they were curious to know what the motive could possibly be.
They considered the important question in silence until they reached the next corner; then Nimble Dick, tossing back his head as one who had thrown off an abstruse problem, and would have none of it, said:--
"Well, what next? We've got through with that fun for to-day. What are you going to do, boys? Say we go around to Poke's, and see what is going on there?"
To this proposition there was eager agreement from all the party save one; he maintained a somewhat moody silence.
"What say, Dirk?" the leader asked, addressing him; "are you ready for Poke's?"
"No; I don't think I'll go around, just now."
"What, then? If you've got something better on hand, why don't you let a fellow know? We're not dying for Poke's place."
"I haven't got a thing on hand; only I don't care about going there."
"Where, then?"
"Nowhere."
"Nowhere! Mean place. Too cold weather to stop in the streets. There'll be a good fire at Poke's. You come along; don't go to getting the sulks; it ain't becoming, just after you've been to Sunday-school."
But the young fellow persisted in gloomily refusing to join them, and presently they began to tease, in what they meant to be a good-natured way.
"Dirk's struck," said one. "That yellow-haired party has got him by the throat; I saw her looking at him most uncommon sharp, when she was telling that biggest story of hers, about the serpent that swallowed. Dirk he thinks he's been swallowed by one of 'em; he feels it choking in his throat."
"No," said another, "that ain't it; Dirk's a-going to get pious. That's his last dodge; I've seen the spell coming on, for some time. Didn't you see him pick up that there Bible and lay it on the seat the other Sunday, after Jerry's elbow knocked it off by mistake? I've been scared about Dirk ever since; and now he won't go to Poke's! It's a bad sign. I say, Dirk, maybe there's going to be a prayer-meeting down your way, and you wouldn't mind letting us come?"
They expected him to laugh, but his face grew blacker than before, and at last he said, in very significant tones:--
"You better hold up there, Scrawly, if you don't want to try the depth of that gutter."
"Leave him be," said Nimble Dick, quickly; "he's going into one of his tantrums. When he begins like that, there's no end to the fighting that's in him; and I don't want a row now,--it's too early in the