Mrs. Preston, puzzled by these contradictory stories, brought the two contending parties face to face, in hope of either eliciting the truth or effecting a treaty of peace between them.  She failed in both objects, however.  Bridget not only adhered to her first statement, but boldly accused Oscar of sundry other misdeeds that had come up in recollection since the first outbreak; while Oscar, on the other hand, stoutly denied most of her charges, and insisted that she was ill-natured, and irritated him in every possible way.  The contest finally waxed so warm between them that Mrs. Preston was obliged to interpose, and to withdraw with Oscar.

Mrs. Preston never ascertained the real facts in the case.  Candor compels me to say that Bridget’s complaints were essentially true.  Knowing the poor Irish girl’s weak side (her quick temper), Oscar had for some time taxed his ingenuity to torment her, for the sake of hearing her “sputter,” as he termed it.  He was not only impudent, and applied offensive names to her, but sometimes he purposely put her to extra labor and trouble by misplacing articles, making dirt about the house, &c.  These things were a sad annoyance to Bridget, and she soon came to regard Oscar as “the plague of her life,” and treated him accordingly.  He did very wrong to annoy her in this way; and she was foolish to take so much notice of his hectoring.  The ill-will thus established between them grew day by day, until it resulted in the open rupture just described.  But Mrs. Preston did not give full credit to Bridget’s story.  She believed the difficulty was owing quite as much to Biddy’s irritable temper and ignorance as to Oscar’s impudence, and consequently the latter escaped with a slight reprimand.  She also prevailed upon Bridget to remain with them the week out, thinking she would by that time get over her anger.  But, to the surprise of all, when Saturday night came, Bridget took her departure.  She had got another “place,” where she would be out of the reach of the provoking Oscar.

The week for the annual examination of the public schools soon arrived.  Oscar begged hard, but in vain, for permission to absent himself, on the eventful day that the grave committee and other distinguished visitors were to sit in judgment upon the condition of the school to which he belonged.  But though he was present, he did not appear to much advantage among the “bright particular stars” of the day; and as one and another of the flower of his class were called out, to receive the “Franklin medals,” his name was not heard, and no silken ribbon, with silver medal attached, was hung around his neck.

The same day, in obedience to the orders of his father, but very much against his own inclination, Oscar applied to the head master for the certificate required of boys who present themselves for admission to the High School.  The teacher seemed a little puzzled what reply to make.  At length he said: