“But I don’t believe it will do me any good to be confined in the school-room,” continued Oscar.  “I don’t think I’m so strong as I was before I was sick.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Preston, “when you ’re sick you need not go to school; but I guess there ’s no danger of your staying at home for that reason, at present.  You never looked better in your life than you do now.”

Oscar tried his pleas again in the evening with his father, but with quite as poor success.  He saw that it was fully determined that he should resume his seat at school, and he reluctantly submitted to this decision.  When Monday morning came, he proceeded to school, but found that his old desk was in possession of another boy.  The head teacher in Oscar’s department soon appeared, and seemed quite glad to see him once more.  He appointed Oscar a new seat, and told him he hoped he would study so diligently as to make up for lost time.

The hopes of Oscar’s teacher and parents were doomed to disappointment.  It was soon evident that he cared less about his lessons than ever.  He was behind his class, and instead of redoubling his efforts to get up with them, he became discouraged and indifferent.  His recitations were seldom perfect, and often they were utter failures.  His teachers coaxed, and encouraged, and ridiculed, and frowned, and punished, all in vain.  One day, after Oscar had blundered worse than usual, the teacher who was hearing the recitation said to him, in a despairing tone: 

“You remind me, Oscar, of what one of the old Roman emperors said to an archer who shot his arrows a whole day, and never once hit the mark.  He told him he had a most wonderful talent for missing.  So I must say of you—­you ’ve got the greatest talent for missing of any boy I know.”

Seeing a smile on the faces of Oscar’s classmates, he added: 

“But this is too sober a matter to make light of.  If you could not get your lessons, it would be a different matter; but I know, and you know, that this is not the trouble.  You are quick enough to learn and to understand, when you have a mind to be.  If you would only try to get your lessons as hard as the other boys do, you would n’t be at the foot of the class a great while.  If you keep on in this way, you will see your folly as plainly as I see it now, before you are many years older.”

This admonition had little effect upon Oscar.  When school was dismissed, a few minutes after, he rushed out with as light a step as any of his comrades, and his gay laugh was heard as soon as he reached the entry.  In the general scramble for caps, one had fallen from its peg, and instead of replacing it, two or three of the boys were making a football of it.  Oscar joined the sport, and gave the cap a kick that sent it part of the way down stairs.  A moment after, he met Willie Davenport returning with it.

“Halloo, Whistler, that is n’t your cap, is it?” inquired Oscar.