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opened； and I stood in the blaze of forty…two pairs of upturned eyes。 I was
a cool hand for my age； but I lacked the boldness to face this battery
without wincing。 In a sort of dazed way I stumbled after Mr。 Grimshaw
down a narrow aisle between two rows of desks； and shyly took the seat
pointed out to me。
The faint buzz that had floated over the school…room at our entrance
died away； and the interrupted lessons were resumed。 By degrees I
recovered my coolness； and ventured to look around me。
The owners of the forty…two caps were seated at small green desks like
the one assigned to me。 The desks were arranged in six rows； with spaces
between just wide enough to prevent the boys' whispering。 A blackboard
set into the wall extended clear across the end of the room； on a raised
platform near the door stood the master's table； and directly in front of this
was a recitation…bench capable of seating fifteen or twenty pupils。 A pair
of globes； tattooed with dragons and winged horses； occupied a shelf
between two windows； which were so high from the floor that nothing but
a giraffe could have looked out of them。
Having possessed myself of these details； I scrutinized my new
acquaintances with unconcealed curiosity； instinctively selecting my
friends and picking out my enemies…and in only two cases did I mistake
my man。
A sallow boy with bright red hair； sitting in the fourth row； shook his
fist at me furtively several times during the morning。 I had a presentiment
I should have trouble with that boy some day…a presentiment subsequently
realized。
On my left was a chubby little fellow with a great many freckles （this
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The Story of a Bad Boy
was Pepper Whitcomb）； who made some mysterious motions to me。 I
didn't understand them； but； as they were clearly of a pacific nature； I
winked my eye at him。 This appeared to be satisfactory； for he then went
on with his studies。 At recess he gave me the core of his apple； though
there were several applicants for it。
Presently a boy in a loose olive…green jacket with two rows of brass
buttons held up a folded paper behind his slate； intimating that it was
intended for me。 The paper was passed skillfully from desk to desk until it
reached my hands。 On opening the scrap； I found that it contained a small
piece of molasses candy in an extremely humid state。 This was certainly
kind。 I nodded my acknowledgments and hastily slipped the delicacy into
my mouth。 In a second I felt my tongue grow red…hot with cayenne pepper。
My face must have assumed a comical expression； for the boy in the
olive…green jacket gave an hysterical laugh； for which he was instantly
punished by Mr。 Grimshaw。 I swallowed the fiery candy； though it brought
the water to my eyes； and managed to look so unconcerned that I was the
only pupil in the form who escaped questioning as to the cause of
Marden's misdemeanor。 C。 Marden was his name。
Nothing else occurred that morning to interrupt the exercises；
excepting that a boy in the reading class threw us all into convulsions by
calling Absalom A…bol'…som 〃Abolsom； O my son Abolsom！〃 I laughed as
loud as anyone； but I am not so sure that I shouldn't have pronounced it
Abolsom myself。
At recess several of the scholars came to my desk and shook hands
with me； Mr。 Grimshaw having previously introduced me to Phil Adams；
charging him to see that I got into no trouble。 My new acquaintances
suggested that we should go to the playground。 We were no sooner out…of…
doors than the boy with the red hair thrust his way through the crowd and
placed himself at my side。
'I say； youngster； if you're comin' to this school you've got to toe the
mark。〃
I didn't see any mark to toe； and didn't understand what be meant； but I
replied politely； that； if it was the custom of the school； I should be happy
to toe the mark； if he would point it out to me。
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The Story of a Bad Boy
〃I don't want any of your sarse；〃 said the boy； scowling。
〃Look here； Conwayl〃 cried a clear voice from the other side of the
playground。 〃You let young Bailey alone。 He's a stranger here； and might
be afraid of you； and thrash you。 Why do you always throw yourself in the
way of getting thrashed？〃
I turned to the speaker； who by this time had reached the spot where
we stood。 Conway slunk off； favoring me with a parting scowl of defiance。
I gave my hand to the boy who had befriended me … his name was Jack
Harris…and thanked him for his good…will。
〃I tell you what it is； Bailey；〃 he said； returning my pressure good…
naturedly； 〃you'll have to fight Conway before the quarter ends； or you'll
have no rest。 That fellow is always hankering after a licking； and of course
you'll give him one by and by； but what's the use of hurrying up an
unpleasant job？ Let's have some baseball。 By the way； Bailey； you were a
good kid not to let on to Grimshaw about the candy。 Charley Marden
would have caught it twice as heavy。 He's sorry he played the joke on you；
and told me to tell you so。 Hallo； Blake！ Where are the bats？〃
This was addressed to a handsome； frank…looking lad of about my own
age； who was engaged just then in cutting his initials on the bark of a tree
near the schoolhouse。 Blake shut up his penknife and went off to get the
bats。
During the game which ensued I made the acquaintance of Charley
Marden； Binny Wallace； Pepper Whitcomb； Harry Blake； and Fred
Langdon。 These boys； none of them more than a year or two older than I
（Binny Wallace was younger）； were ever after my chosen comrades。 Phil
Adams and Jack Harris were considerably our seniors； and； though they
always treated us 〃kids〃 very kindly； they generally went with another set。
Of course； before long I knew all the Temple boys more or less intimately；
but the five I have named were my constant companions。
My first day at the Temple Grammar School was on the whole
satisfactory。 I had made several warm friends and only two permanent
enemies…Conway and his echo； Seth Rodgers； for these two always went
together like a deranged stomach and a headache。
Before the en