On this morning that I speak of, Ralph had walked toward the school early to avoid the company of Mirandy.  But not caring to sustain his dignity longer than was necessary, he loitered along the road, admiring the trunks of the maples, and picking up a beech-nut now and then.  Just as he was about to go on toward the school, he caught sight of little Shocky running swiftly toward him, but looking from side to side, as if afraid of being seen.

[Illustration:  BETSY SHORT]

“Well, Shocky, what is it?” and Ralph put his hand kindly on the great bushy head of white hair from which came Shocky’s nickname.  Shocky had to pant a minute.

“Why, Mr. Hartsook,” he gasped, scratching his head, “they’s a pond down under the school-house,” and here Shocky’s breath gave out entirely for a minute.

“Yes, Shocky, I know that.  What about it?  The trustees haven’t come to fill it up, have they?”

“Oh! no, sir; but Hank Banta, you know—­” and Shocky took another breathing spell, standing as dose to Ralph as he could, for poor Shocky got all his sunshine from the master’s presence.

“Has Henry fallen in and got a ducking, Shocky?”

“Oh! no, sir; he wants to git you in, you see.”

“Well, I won’t go in, though, Shocky.”

“But, you see, he’s been and gone and pulled back the board that you have to step on to git ahind your desk; he’s been and gone and pulled back the board so as you can’t help a-tippin’ it up, and a-sowsin’ right in ef you step there.”

“And so you came to tell me.”  There was a huskiness in Ralph’s voice.  He had, then, one friend in Flat Creek district—­poor little Shocky.  He put his arm around Shocky just a moment, and then told him to hasten across to the other road, so as to come back to the school-house in a direction at right angles to the master’s approach.  But the caution was not needed.  Shocky had taken care to leave in that way, and was altogether too cunning to be seen coming down the road with Mr. Hartsook.  But after he got over the fence to go through the “sugar camp” (or sugar orchard, as they say at the East), he stopped and turned back once or twice, just to catch one more smile from Ralph.  And then he hied away through the tall trees, a very happy boy, kicking and ploughing the brown leaves before him in his perfect delight, saying over and over again:  “How he looked at me! how he did look!” And when Ralph came up to the school-house door, there was Shocky sauntering along from the other direction, throwing bits of limestone at fence rails, and smiling still clear down to his shoes at thought of the master’s kind words.

“What a quare boy Shocky is!” remarked Betsey Short, with a giggle.  “He just likes to wander round alone.  I see him a-comin’ out of the sugar camp just now.  He’s been in there half an hour.”  And Betsey giggled again; for Betsey Short could giggle on slighter provocation than any other girl on Flat Creek.