cuous and--according to their
showing--so ridiculous at last night's entertainment.

Of course Jim at once recognized the hero of the tale; but not so
Theodore, his grandfather having, for a wonder, preserved a discreet
silence on the subject, being totally unaware that he had exhibited
himself in an unusual way on the occasion. Perhaps the poor captain had
felt a little mortified that he had been so carried away by that which
was, after all, "on'y pretendin'," and did not care to rehearse his
experience.

However that may be, Theodore had heard nothing of it, and laughed and
jeered with the other boys at the more than graphic relation of his two
schoolmates.

Strong was the temptation to Jim to expose him, and to draw upon his
enemy the laugh which must follow; but, to his credit be it said, he
refrained, except in so far as to give him a knowing look which
conveyed to that amiable youth the conviction that it was no other than
his grandfather who was furnishing food for merriment to half the
school, and that Jim was aware of it and held this rod over him. The
knowledge that this was so was not calculated to soften Theodore's
animosity toward Jim. Disposed as he was to raise a laugh or a sneer at
the expense of another, he could not endure them himself; and to feel
that he was thus in the power of the boy whom he hated, was intolerable
to him. From this time, however, it gave him a wholesome awe of Jim,
and proved a check upon him; and "Jim Grant Garfield Rutherford
Livingstone Washington" rang less often over the playground, now that
he ceased to lead in the cry upon the claimant of so many names.

CHAPTER IX.

MATTY.

"Amy, what are you pondering?"

"Men and things in general and their iniquities in particular; my own
not being included, they being nothing worth speaking of," I answered,
rather evasively, not being disposed at present to make public the
nature of my cogitations, which really had to do with my own
shortcomings.

"We will pass over the modesty of the remark," said Bessie Sanford,
"but we insist upon knowing--do we not, Milly?--the tenor of the
meditations which have actually kept you quiet for--let me see--I think
it must be full two minutes by the clock."

"That inquisitive spirit of yours needs repression, Elizabeth," I said:
"therefore I shall not yield to your demands."

"Then bid farewell to peace," was the rejoinder. And knowing Elizabeth
Sanford well, I meditated a precipit