Oscar | Page 8

which."
"You are about as definite," said the teacher, "as the Irish recruit, who
said his height was five feet ten or ten feet five, he was n't certain
which. But are you sure that the number of buildings burnt was either
three hundred and fifty, or five hundred and thirty?"
"Why--yes--I--believe--it was one or the other," replied Oscar,
hesitatingly.
"You believe it was, do you? Well, I believe you know just nothing
about the lesson. You may go to your seat, and study it until you can
answer every question; and after school I will hear you recite it, and
remember, you will not go home until you can recite it."
The class continued their recitation, and Oscar returned to his seat, and
commenced studying the lesson anew. It was already late in the

afternoon, and as he did not like the idea of stopping after school, he
gave pretty close attention to his book during the rest of the session.
About fifteen minutes after the school was dismissed, he told the
teacher he was prepared to recite, and he succeeded in getting through
the lesson with tolerable accuracy. When he had finished, the teacher
talked with him very plainly about his indolent habits in school, and the
consequences that would hereafter result from them.
"I would advise you," he said, "to do one of two things,--either commit
your lessons perfectly, hereafter, or else give up study entirely, and ask
your father to take you from school and put you to some business. You
can learn as fast as any boy in school, if you will only give your
attention to it; but I despise this half-way system that you have fallen
into. It is only wasting time to half learn a thing, as you did your
geography lesson this afternoon. You studied it just enough to get a few
indistinct impressions, and what little you did learn you were not sure
of. It would be better for you to master but one single question a day,
and then know that you know it, than to fill your head with a thousand
half-learned, indefinite, and uncertain ideas. I have told you all this
before, but you do not seem to pay any attention to it. I am sorry that it
is so, for you might easily stand at the head of the school, if you would
try."
Oscar had received such advice before, but, as his teacher intimated, he
had not profited much by it. If anything, he had grown more indolent
and negligent, within a few months. On going home that night, Ralph
accosted him with the inquiry:
"What did you think of the blackboard, Oscar? Do you suppose you
should know it again, if you should happen to see it?"
"What do you mean?" he inquired, feigning ignorance.
"O, you 've forgotten it a'ready, have you?" continued Ralph. "You
don't remember seeing anything of a blackboard this afternoon, do
you?"
"But who told you about it?" inquired Oscar; for though both attended

the same school, their places were in different rooms.
"O, I know what's going on," said Ralph; "you need n't try to be so
secret about it."
"Well, I know who told you about it--'t was Bill Davenport, was n't it?"
inquired Oscar.
Willie and Ralph were such great cronies, that Oscar's supposition was
a very natural one. Indeed, Ralph could not deny it without telling a
falsehood, and so he made no reply. Oscar, perceiving he had guessed
right, added, in a contemptuous tone:
"The little, sneaking tell-tale--I 'll give him a good pounding for that,
the first time I catch him."
"You 're too bad, Oscar," interposed his brother; "Willie did n't suppose
you cared anything about standing before the blackboard--he only
spoke of it because he thought it was something queer."
Seeing Oscar was in so unamiable a mood, Ralph said nothing more
about the subject, at that time.
CHAPTER III.
PAYING OFF A GRUDGE.
The morning after the events just related, as Ralph was on his way to
school, he fell in with Willie Davenport, or "Whistler," as he was often
sportively called, by his playmates, in allusion to his fondness for a
species of music to which most boys are more or less addicted. And I
may as well say here, that he was a very good whistler, and came
honestly by the title by which he was distinguished among his fellows.
His quick ear caught all the new and popular melodies of the day,
before they became threadbare, which gave his whistling an air of
freshness and novelty that few could rival. It was to this
circumstance--the quality of his whistling, rather than the quantity--that
he was chiefly indebted for the name of Whistler. Nor was he ashamed

of his nickname, as