On the whole, after observing human nature pretty closely for some time, even till gray hairs are with me to stay, I am inclined to believe, with Mr. Emerson, that “Virtue itself is apt to be occasional, spotty, and not always the same clear through the piece.”  This may be another case where facts do not tally with logical conclusions based upon dogmatic theological reasoning.  Yet if the fact is thus, my dear reader, you need not be alarmed, so far as you are concerned.  Ask yourself if it isn’t true, in your case, at least, that you have slipped down from the lofty places of your desire and aspiration many a time, even when you have done your best to keep in your high estate.  Human nature!  That is the key to this condition.  How to handle this unstable quantity so as to keep it up continually, this is a problem for the ages.

So “Dodd” slipped again, just as such boys are continually apt to do, and Mr. Bright bore with him patiently, and “worked him,” as a wise teacher can and will.

The machine cannot and will not bear with boys and “work them.”  It “suspends” them and “expels” them.

The “Other-Fellow” held “Dodd” to his work for days and weeks, but, finally, even this power lost its grip, for a time.

It happened—­as such things usually do, when the teacher is doubly busy—­that “Dodd” began whittling a stick at his desk and covering the floor all about with the litter, in a most shameful and slovenly manner.  Mr. Bright discovered the fact just as he was in the midst of a class exercise in which twenty pupils were taking part, all being at the board at the same time and working together under pressure of his rapid dictation.  He had no time to stop then and there to put a pupil into order.  He was flushed and excited with his class work, holding his boys and girls up to the vigorous drill he was giving them, and he scarcely paused to say to “Dodd”: 

“Put up that knife and go to work!”

He did not wait to see it he was obeyed.  He had not time.

The next act of “Dodd’s” that he was conscious of was his opening the door to leave the room.  He saw at once that this move was made simply to kill time, and to get rid of study, and as “Dodd” was in the very act of closing the door behind him, Mr. Bright called out to him: 

“Come back and take your seat!”

But “Dodd’s” only answer was to slam the door as hard as he could and dash down stairs, three steps at a jump.

Mr. Bright rushed out after him at the top of his speed.  In his haste to make time, and catch the fugitive, if possible, he revived a custom of his youth and slid down the banister, making the time of an arrow in his descent.

Then he ran out of the hall, in still further pursuit.

But he was too late.  He ran around the house, but at the corner he lost the trail, and though he circled the building three times, and listened, and dodged back and forth, to surprise “Dodd” if possible, he could get no clue to his whereabouts.  He went into the cellar and looked all about, peering into the furnace-room and coal-bin, but nowhere could he find the crafty object of his search.  Finally he gave up and returned to the school room.  He came in out of breath and perspiring, and met the inquiring eyes of his pupils as he went back to his desk.