t out, feeling much depressed.
My self-confidence had vanished. I was homesick and felt terribly alone.
I passed the jail and stopped and looked at its grated windows and
thought of Amos and wondered if he were really a murderer.

I walked toward the house of Mr. Wright and saw him digging potatoes in
the garden and went in. I knew that he was my friend.

"Well, Bart, how do you like school?" he asked.

"Not very well," I answered.

"Of course not! It's new to you now, and you miss your aunt and uncle.
Stick to it. You'll make friends and get interested before long."

"I want to go home," I declared.

"Now let's look at the compass," he suggested. "You're lost for a minute
and, like all lost people, you're heading the wrong way. Don't be misled
by selfishness. Forget what you want to do and think of what we want you
to do. We want you to make a man of yourself. You must do it for the
sake of those dear people who have done so much for you. The needle
points toward the schoolhouse yonder."

He went on with his work, and, as I walked away, I understood that the
needle he referred to was my conscience.

As I neared the schoolmaster's the same drunken man that I had seen
before went zigzagging up the road.

Mr. Hacket stood in his dooryard.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"Nick Tubbs--the village drunkard and sign o' the times," he answered.
"Does chores at the tavern all day and goes home at night filled with
his earnings an' a great sense o' proprietorship. He is the top flower
on the bush."

I went about my chores. There was to be no more wavering in my conduct.
At the supper table Mr. Hacket kept us laughing with songs and jests and
stories. The boy John, having been reproved for rapid eating, hurled his
spoon upon the floor.

"Those in favor of his punishment will please say aye?" said the
schoolmaster.

I remember that we had a divided house on that important question.

The schoolmaster said: "Michael Henry wishes him to be forgiven on
promise of better conduct, but for the next offense he shall ride the
badger."

This meant lying for a painful moment across his father's knee.

The promise was given and our merry-making resumed. The district
attorney, whom I had met before, came to see me after supper and asked
more questions and advised me to talk with no one about the shooting
without his consent. Soon he went away, and after I had learned my
lessons Mr. Hacket said:

"Let us walk up to the jail an