at; but as he looked once more
toward the haunted Louse a dim light appeared in the crack of a closed
window, and presently old Jean Poquelin came, dragging his chair, and
sat down close against the shining cranny. He spoke in a low, tender
tone in the French tongue, making some inquiry. An answer came from
within. Was it the voice of a human? So unnatural was it--so hollow, so
discordant, so unearthly--that the stealthy listener shuddered again
from head to foot, and when something stirred in some bushes near
by--though it may have been nothing more than a rat--and came scuttling
through the grass, the little Secretary actually turned and fled. As he
left the enclosure he moved with bolder leisure through the bushes; yet
now and then he spoke aloud: "Oh, oh! I see, I understand!" and shut his
eyes in his hands.

How strange that henceforth little White was the champion of Jean
Poquelin! In season and out of season--wherever a word was uttered
against him--the Secretary, with a quiet, aggressive force that
instantly arrested gossip, demanded upon what authority the statement or
conjecture was made; but as he did not condescend to explain his own
remarkable attitude, it was not long before the disrelish and suspicion
which had followed Jean Poquelin so many years fell also upon him.

It was only the next evening but one after his adventure that he made
himself a source of sullen amazement to one hundred and fifty boys, by
ordering them to desist from their wanton hallooing. Old Jean Poquelin,
standing and shaking his cane, rolling out his long-drawn maledictions,
paused and stared, then gave the Secretary a courteous bow and started
on. The boys, save one, from pure astonishment, ceased but a ruffianly
little Irish lad, more daring than any had yet been, threw a big
hurtling clod, that struck old Poquelin between the shoulders and burst
like a shell. The enraged old man wheeled with uplifted staff to give
chase to the scampering vagabond; and--he may have tripped, or he may
not, but he fell full length. Little White hastened to help him up, but
he waved him off with a fierce imprecation and staggering to his feet
resumed his way homeward. His lips were reddened with blood.

Little White was on his way to the meeting of the Board. He would have
given all he dared spend to have staid away, for he felt both too fierce
and too tremulous to brook the criticisms that were likely to be made.

"I can't help it, gentlemen; I c