"How?" asked Nat, startled at the idea.
"You shall ferule me in the good old-fashioned way; I seldom do itmyself, but it may make you remember better to give me pain than to feelit yourself."
"Strike you? Oh, I couldn't!" cried Nat.
"Then mind that tripping tongue of thine. I have no wish to be hurt, butI would gladly bear much pain to cure this fault."
This suggestion made such an impression on Nat, that for a long time heset a watch upon his lips, and was desperately accurate, for Mr. Bhaerjudged rightly, that love of him would be more powerful with Nat thatfear for himself. But alas! one sad day Nat was off his guard, and whenpeppery Emil threatened to thrash him, if it was he who had run over hisgarden and broken down his best hills of corn, Nat declared he didn't,and then was ashamed to own up that he did do it, when Jack was chasinghim the night before.
He thought no one would find it out, but Tommy happened to see him, andwhen Emil spoke of it a day or two later, Tommy gave his evidence, andMr. Bhaer heard it. School was over, and they were all standing about inthe hall, and Mr. Bhaer had just set down on the straw settee to enjoyhis frolic with Teddy; but when he heard Tommy and saw Nat turn scarlet,and look at him with a frightened face, he put the little boy down,saying, "Go to thy mother, bubchen, I will come soon," and taking Nat bythe hand led him into the school and shut the door.
The boys looked at one another in silence for a minute, then Tommyslipped out and peeping in at the half-closed blinds, beheld a sightthat quite bewildered him. Mr. Bhaer had just taken down the long rulethat hung over his desk, so seldom used that it was covered with dust.
"My eye! He's going to come down heavy on Nat this time. Wish I hadn'ttold," thought good-natured Tommy, for to be feruled was the deepestdisgrace at this school.
"You remember what I told you last time?" said Mr. Bhaer, sorrowfully,not angrily.
"Yes; but please don't make me, I can't bear it," cried Nat, backingup against the door with both hands behind him, and a face full ofdistress.
"Why don't he up and take it like a man? I would," thought Tommy, thoughhis heart beat fast at the sight.
"I shall keep my word, and you must remember to tell the truth. Obey me,Nat, take this and give me six good strokes."
Tommy was so staggered by this last speech that he nearly tumbled downthe bank, but saved himself, and hung onto the window ledge, staring inwith eyes as round as the stuffed owl's on the chimney-piece.
Nat took the rule, for when Mr. Bhaer spoke in that tone everyone obeyedhim, and, looking as scared and guilty as if about to stab his master,he gave two feeble blows on the broad hand held out to him. Thenhe stopped and looked up half-blind with tears, but Mr. Bhaer saidsteadily:
"Go on, and strike harder."
As if seeing that it must be done, and eager to have the hard task soonover, Nat drew his sleeve across his eyes and gave two more quick hardstrokes that reddened the hand, yet hurt the giver more.
"Isn't that enough?" he asked in a breathless sort of tone.
"Two more," was all the answer, and he gave them, hardly seeing wherethey fell, then threw the rule all across the room, and hugging the kindhand in both his own, laid his face down on it sobbing out in a passionof love, and shame, and penitence:
"I will remember! Oh! I will!"
Then Mr. Bhaer put an arm about him, and said in a tone as compassionateas it had just now been firm:
"I think you will. Ask the dear God to help you, and try to spare usboth another scene like this."
Tommy
saw no more, for he crept back to the hall, looking so excited andsober that the boys crowded round him to ask what was being done to Nat.
In a most impressive whisper Tommy told them, and they looked as if thesky was about to fall, for this reversing the order of things almosttook their breath away.
"He made me do the same thing once," said Emil, as if confessing a crimeof the deepest dye.
"And you hit him? dear old Father Bhaer? By thunder, I'd just liketo see you do it now!" said Ned, collaring Emil in a fit of righteouswrath.
"It was ever so long ago. I'd rather have my head cut off than do itnow," and Emil mildly laid Ned on his back instead of cuffing him, as hewould have felt it his duty to do on any less solemn occasion.
"How could you?" said Demi, appalled at the idea.
"I was hopping mad at the time, and thought I shouldn't mind abit, rather like it perhaps. But when I'd hit uncle one good crack,everything he had ever done for me came into my head all at oncesomehow, and I couldn't go on. No sir! If he'd laid me down and walkedon me, I wouldn't have minded, I felt so mean," and Emil gave himself agood thump in the chest to express his sense of remorse for the past.
"Nat's crying like anything, and feels no end sorry, so don't let's saya word about it; will we?" said tender-hearted Tommy.
"Of course we won't, but it's awful to tell lies," and Demi looked as ifhe found the awfulness much increased when the punishment fell not uponthe sinner, but his best Uncle Fritz.
"Suppose we all clear out, so Nat can cut upstairs if he wants to,"proposed Franz, and led the way to the barn, their refuge in troubloustimes.
Nat did not come to dinner, but Mrs. Jo took some up to him, and said atender word, which did him good, though he could not look at her. By andby the lads playing outside heard the violin, and said among themselves:"He's all right now." He was all right, but felt shy about going down,till opening his door to slip away into the woods, he found Daisysitting on the stairs with neither work nor doll, only her littlehandkerchief in her hand, as if she had been mourning for her captivefriend.
"I'm going to walk; want to come?" asked Nat, trying to look as ifnothing was the matter, yet feeling very grateful for her silentsympathy, because he fancied everyone must look upon him as a wretch.
"Oh yes!" and Daisy ran for her hat, proud to be chosen as a companionby one of the big boys.
The others saw them go, but no one followed, for boys have a great dealmore delicacy than they get credit for, and the lads instinctively feltthat, when in disgrace, gentle little Daisy was their most congenialfriend.
The walk did Nat good, and he came home quieter than usual, but lookingcheerful again, and hung all over with daisy-chains made by his littleplaymate while he lay on the grass and told her stories.
No one said a word about the scene of the morning, but its effect wasall the more lasting for that reason, perhaps. Nat tried his very best,and found much help, not only from the earnest little prayers he prayedto his Friend in heaven, but also in the patient care of the earthlyfriend whose kind hand he never touched without remembering that it hadwillingly borne pain for his sake.