The Grammar School Boys of Gridley | Page 5

funny story that I told you this forenoon?"
"Not over the story, sir; but your manner of telling it."
Old Dut had hard work to keep back the smile that struggled for an
appearance on his face.
"Revenge, was it, Master Prescott?"
"Well, I felt that it was due me, Mr. Jones, to get even for the show that
you made of me before the class."

"Master Prescott, we won't go into the details of whether I was justified
in illustrating my story this morning in the manner that I did, or
whether you were right in coming back at me after the fashion that you
did. But I am going to offer one thought for your consideration. It is
this--that the man who devotes too much thought to 'getting even' with
other folks is likely to let slip a lot of good, solid chances for getting
ahead in the world. I don't blame any fellow for protecting his own
rights and dignity, but just think over what I said, won't you, about the
chap who spends too much of his time thinking up ways to get even
with others?"
"There's a good idea in that, sir," Dick assented.
"Of course you've heard, Master Prescott, that 'revenge is sweet?'"
"Yes; I have."
"And I believe, Master Prescott, that the saying is often true. But did it
ever strike you, in this connection, that sweet things often make one
sick at his stomach? I believe this is just as true of revenge as it is of
other sweets. And now run along, or you won't have time to do justice
to the pudding that your mother has undoubtedly been baking for you
this morning."
As Dick hastened from the room he found Dave Darrin waiting for him.
Out in the corridor beyond these two encountered Holmes, Dalzell,
Hazelton and Reade, for these six boys of the "top grade" generally
stuck together in all things concerning school life.
"Was Old Dut blowing you up for showing him how to pitch a book?"
inquired Greg.
"No; Old Dut doesn't seem to hold that in for me very hard," smiled
Prescott. "But he was giving me something to think over."
"Huh!" muttered Greg, as the boys walked down the outer steps. "I'd
like to give him something to think about. Why did you get so crusty
when I sprang the idea of doing the wreck scene in his flower beds

to-night?"
"Because the idea was too kiddish," returned Dick. "Besides, Old Dut
was talking to me a good deal along such lines."
"Did you go and tell him what I wanted to do?" flared Greg.
"I didn't. But Old Dut pinned me down and asked me whether that book
throwing were really an accident, and I had to admit that it wasn't. Now,
listen!"
Dick thereupon repeated his conversation with Principal Jones.
"He's a wise man, all right," nodded Harry Hazelton.
"I guess so," nodded Dave Darrin. "After all, it would look rather
kiddish in us to go slipping up to his front yard in the dark night, lifting
off his front gate and carrying it down to the river."
"It would be stealing, or wasting, property, also," agreed Tom Reade.
"So, fellows," resumed Dick, "I guess----"
"Hullo! What's going on down there?" broke in Darrin hastily, as all six
of the Grammar School boys looked ahead.
A woman's scream had caught their ear.
"It's Mrs. Dexter," muttered Hazelton.
"And that rascally husband of hers," added Greg Holmes.
"Some new row, of course," broke in Dan Dalzell.
"It's a shame!" burst from Dick.
"That Dexter fellow ought to be hung," growled Tom Reade. "He's
always bothering that woman, and she's one of the nicest ever. But now
he won't let her alone, just because her grandfather had to die and leave

Mrs. Dexter a lot of money."
The little city of Gridley was quite familiar with the domestic troubles
of the Dexters. The woman was young and pretty, and good-hearted.
Abner Dexter, on the other hand, was good-looking and shiftless. He
had married Jennie Bolton because he believed her family to be
wealthy, and Dexter considered himself too choice for work. But the
Bolton money had all belonged to the grandfather, who, a keen judge of
human nature, had guessed rightly the nature of Abner Dexter and had
refused to let him have any money.
Dexter had left his wife and little daughter some two years before the
opening of this story. Three months before old man Bolton had died,
leaving several hundred thousand dollars to Mrs. Dexter. Then Dexter
had promptly reappeared. But Mrs. Dexter no longer wanted this
shiftless, extravagant man about, and had told him so plainly. Dexter
had threatened to make trouble, and the wife had thereupon gone to
court and had herself