Wilton School

Wilton School, by Fred E.
Weatherly

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilton School, by Fred E. Weatherly
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Wilton School or, Harry Campbell's Revenge
Author: Fred E. Weatherly
Release Date: July 31, 2007 [EBook #22183]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILTON
SCHOOL ***

Produced by Al Haines

[Frontispiece: "His eyes were greedily fixed on the book; then he
would write a little, then look again, then write again. He was
cribbing."--WILTON SCHOOL, page 33.]

WILTON SCHOOL:
OR,
HARRY CAMPBELL'S REVENGE.
A Tale.

BY
FRED. E. WEATHERLY, B.A.,
AUTHOR OF "MURIEL, AND OTHER POEMS."

EDINBURGH:
W. P. NIMMO, HAY, & MITCHELL
1872

[Transcriber's note: In the original book, each page had its own header.
In this e-book, each chapter's headers have been collected into an
introductory paragraph at the start of that chapter.]

TO
My Little Brothers,
ALFRED, ARTHUR, HERBERT,
LEWIS, AND CECIL,
I DEDICATE

THIS TALE.

CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I.--A LONG GOOD-BYE II.--WHY THE SAD GOOD-BYE WAS
GIVEN III.--SAD INFORMATION IV.--WILTON SCHOOL
V.--MOTHER AND SON VI.--INJURED INNOCENCE VII.--A BOY
FIGHT AT SCHOOL VIII.--FRIENDS IN MISFORTUNE
IX.--HARRY PUT ON TRIAL X.--SUNLIGHT XI.--MOVING
HOME XII.--BULLYING XIII.--FLIGHT XIV.--AT SLEEP AT
LAST XV.--THE BITERS BIT XVI.--BLEWCOME'S ROYAL
MENAGERIE XVII.--THE LOST FOUND XVIII.--FATHER AND
SON XIX.--AT WILTON ONCE MORE XX.--AVENGED AT LAST

ILLUSTRATIONS
"His eyes were greedily fixed on the book; then he would write a little,
then look again, then write again. He was cribbing." . . . . . . . . .
Frontispiece
"'Leave him to me,' said Warburton, a tall ungainly boy of fourteen, as
boy after boy was eager to take the quarrel to himself."
"There he was, safe on the ground at last."
"He never uttered a word, but ate his breakfast, and enjoyed it
thoroughly."

WILTON SCHOOL
CHAPTER I.

A LONG GOOD-BYE.
Gathering shadows--Harry's wonder--Ambiguous--A long
good-bye--The anchor's weighed.
It was a sad evening in the little farm by the church of Wilton, yet very
sweet and summer-like without. Very sad it was in the low, dim,
oak-panelled parlour, whose diamonded window looked across the
quiet churchyard, with its swinging wicket, its gravel-path beneath
green aisles of lindens, and all the countless
"Grassy barrows of the happier dead."
Very sad were those three sitters in the summer twilight, there, at the
farm; for a good-bye had to be said--a long, long farewell between that
weeping pale woman, and the stout sailor, her husband. And Harry,
their blue-eyed, sunny-haired boy, did not understand what it all
meant;--why papa did not cheer mamma with hopes of soon coming
home again--why mamma did not try to console herself by saying, over
and over, that he would soon come back, as she always used in the old
days when papa had to go to sea. She had never cried so bitterly before,
although these good-byes had come so often. And now it made her
cough; she seemed scarcely to have strength to cry. And papa, who was
always so brave and stern, why was it even he could not stop the tears
from rolling down his bronzed cheeks? And so Harry sat in the
window-seat, quite unable to understand the meaning of all the sorrow,
and looked out of the window at the farmer's wife nursing her last baby
in the orchard, and then at the old sexton in the churchyard throwing up
the red earth, and wondered why he always whistled such a jovial tune,
while he himself felt so sad.
And the evening drew on over the straggling village, weary with its
long day's work. The last loaded waggon had passed down the lane by
the farm; the last troop of tired hay-makers had trudged gaily
homewards; and with the deepening dusk the winds grew cooler,
blowing in fresh, along the valley, from the sea.
And, all this while, poor Harry sat with his face pressed closely against

the window-pane; and his papa and mamma, apparently unheeding him,
sat talking in the far dim corner of the room, while ever anon her great
sobs broke the train of comforting words her husband strove to utter.
Presently, he got up, moved to the window, and without saying a word,
took Harry's hand and led him across the room to his mother's side.
Then his faltering lips said:
"Harry, my boy, mamma is going away soon--before I come back;--I
shall not see her again."
"Not see her again, papa?" cried Harry in amazement. "And why is
mamma going away, with her cough so bad, too?"