EXPELLED

“Andrew Wildwood!”

The village schoolmaster of Fairview spoke this name in a tone of severity.  He accompanied the utterance with a bang of the ruler that made the desk before him rattle.

There was fire in his eye and his lip trembled.  Half of the twenty odd scholars before him looked frightened, the others interested.  None had ever before seen the dull, sleepy pedagogue so wrought up.

All eyes were fixed on a lad of about sixteen, seated in the front row of desks.

The name called out applied to him.  It had been abbreviated so commonly, however, that its full dignity seemed to daze him for the moment.

Andrew Wildwood slowly arose, his big, fearless eyes fixed dubiously on the schoolmaster.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Step forward, sir.”

Andy Wildwood did so.  He was now in full view of the other scholars.  Mr. Darrow also arose.  He thrust one hand behind his long coat tails, twirling them fiercely.  From the little platform that was his throne he glared down at the unabashed Andy.  In his other hand he flourished the long black ruler threateningly.

He pointed a terrible finger towards two desks, about four feet apart, at one side of the room.  The desk nearest to the wall had its top split clear across, and one corner was splintered off.

“Did you break that desk?” demanded the pedagogue.

Andy’s lips puckered slightly in a comical twist.  He had a vivid imagination, and the shattered desk suggested an exciting and pleasurable moment in the near past.  Some one chuckled at the rear of the room.  Andy’s face broke into an irrepressible smile.

“Order!” roared the schoolmaster, bringing down the ruler with a loud bang.  “Young man, I asked you:  did you break that desk?”

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid I smashed it,” said Andy in a rather subdued tone.  “It was an accident.”

“He was only fooling, teacher!” in an excited lisp spoke up little Tod Smith, the youngest pupil in the school.  “He broke the desk, but—­say, teacher! he did it—­yes, sir, Andy did the double somersault, just like a real circus actor, and landed square on both feet!”

The eyes of Andy’s diminutive champion and admirer sparkled like diamonds.  A murmur of delight and sympathy went the rounds of the schoolroom.

Mr. Darrow glared savagely at the boy.  He brandished the ruler wildly, sending an ink bottle rolling to the floor.  As a titter greeted this catastrophe, he lost his temper and dignity completely.

Springing down from the platform, he made a swoop upon Andy.  The latter stood his ground, and there was a shock.  Then Andy was swayed to and fro as the schoolmaster grasped his arm.

“Young man,” spoke Mr. Darrow in a shaking tone, “this is the limit.  An example must be made!  Last week you tore down the schoolhouse chimney with your ridiculous tight rope performances.”