Part 3 (1/2)

It was not till the end of the day that Miss Ralston took up the journal Bennie had brought. She turned the leaves absently, thinking of David.

He would be so disappointed to miss the exercises! And to whom should she give the part of George Was.h.i.+ngton in the dialogue? She found the piece in the journal. A sc.r.a.p of paper marked the place. A folded paper.

Folded several times. Miss Ralston opened out the paper and found some writing.

'DEAR TEACHER MISS RALSTON,--

'I can't be George Was.h.i.+ngton any more because I have lied to you.

I must not tell you about what, because you would blame somebody who didn't do wrong.

'Your friend,

'DAVID RUDINSKY.'

Again and again Miss Ralston read the note, unable to understand it.

David, her David, whose soul was a mirror for every n.o.ble idea, had lied to her! What could he mean? What had impelled him? _Somebody who didn't do wrong._ So it was not David alone; there was some complication with another person. She studied the note word for word and her eyes slowly filled with tears. If the boy had really lied--if the whole thing were not a chimera of his fevered nights--then what must he have suffered of remorse and shame! Her heart went out to him even while her brain was busy with the mystery.

She made a swift resolution. She would go to David at once. She was sure he would tell her more than he had written, and it would relieve his mind. She did not dread the possible disclosures. Her knowledge of the boy made her certain that she would find nothing ign.o.ble at the bottom of his mystery. He was only a child, after all--an overwrought, sensitive child. No doubt he exaggerated his sin, if sin there were. It was her duty to go and put him at rest.

She knew that David's father kept a candy shop in the bas.e.m.e.nt of his tenement, and she had no trouble in finding the place. Half the children in the neighborhood escorted her to the door, attracted by the phenomenon of a teacher loose on their streets.

The tinkle of the shop-bell brought Mr. Rudinsky from the little kitchen in the rear.

'Well, well!' he exclaimed, shaking hands heartily. 'This is a great honor--a great honor.' He sounded the initial _h_. 'I wish I had a palace for you to come in, ma'am. I don't think there was such company in this house since it was built.'

His tone was one of genuine gratification. Ushering her into the kitchen, he set a chair for her, and himself sat down at a respectful distance.

'I'm sorry,' he began, with a wave of his hand around the room. 'Such company ought not to sit in the kitchen, but you see--'

He was interrupted by Bennie, who had clattered in at the visitor's heels, panting for recognition.

'Never mind, teacher,' the youngster spoke up, 'we got a parlor upstairs, with a mantelpiece and everything, but David sleeps up there--the doctor said it's the most air--and you da.s.sn't wake him up till he wakes himself.'

Bennie's father frowned, but the visitor smiled a cordial smile.

'I like a friendly kitchen like this,' she said quietly. 'My mother did not keep any help when I was a little girl and I was a great deal in the kitchen.'

Her host showed his appreciation of her tact by dropping the subject.

'I'm sure you came about David,' he said.

'I did. How is he?'

'Pretty sick, ma'am. The doctor says it's not the sickness so much, but David is so weak and small. He says David studies too much altogether.

Maybe he's right. What do you think, ma'am?'

Miss Ralston answered remorsefully.

'I agree with the doctor. I think we are all to blame. We push him too much when we ought to hold him back.'

Here Bennie made another raid on the conversation.