Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
One wishes to draw a second curtain. Without discussion or inquiry or
brief retort, Willie Dalzel ran away. He ran like a hare straight for
home, this redoubtable chieftain. Following him at a heavy and slow
pace ran the impassioned new boy. The scene was long remembered.
Willie Dalzel was no coward; he had been panic-stricken into running
away from a new thing. He ran as a man might run from the sudden
appearance of a vampire or a ghoul or a gorilla. This was no time for
academics--he ran.
Jimmie slowly gathered himself and came to his feet. "Where's Willie?"
said he, first of all. The crowd sniggered. "Where's Willie?" said
Jimmie again.
"Why, he licked him _too_!" answered a boy suddenly.
"He did?" said Jimmie. He sat weakly down on the roadway. "He did?"
After allowing a moment for the fact to sink into him, he looked up at
the crowd with his one good eye and his one bunged eye, and smiled
cheerfully.
XII
THE CITY URCHIN AND THE CHASTE VILLAGERS
After the brief encounters between the Hedge boy and Jimmie Trescott
and the Hedge boy and Willie Dalzel, the neighborhood which contained
the homes of the boys was, as far as child life is concerned, in a
state resembling anarchy. This was owing to the signal overthrow and
shameful retreat of the boy who had for several years led a certain
little clan by the nose. The adherence of the little community did not
go necessarily to the boy who could whip all the others, but it
certainly could not go to a boy who had run away in a manner that made
his shame patent to the whole world. Willie Dalzel found himself in a
painful position. This tiny tribe which had followed him with such
unwavering faith was now largely engaged in whistling and catcalling
and hooting. He chased a number of them into the sanctity of their
own yards, but from these coigns they continued to ridicule him.
But it must not be supposed that the fickle tribe went over in a body
to the new light. They did nothing of the sort. They occupied
themselves with avenging all which they had endured--gladly enough,
too--for many months. As for the Hedge boy, he maintained a curious
timid reserve, minding his own business with extreme care, and going
to school with that deadly punctuality of which his mother was the
genius. Jimmie Trescott suffered no adverse criticism from his
fellows. He was entitled to be beaten by a boy who had made Willie
Dalzel bellow like a bull-calf and run away. Indeed, he received some
honors. He had confronted a very superior boy and received a bang in
the eye which for a time was the wonder of the children, and he had
not bellowed like a bull-calf. As a matter of fact, he was often
invited to tell how it had felt, and this he did with some pride,
claiming arrogantly that he had been superior to any particular pain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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