XXXVII.
A HEART-TO-HEART TALK.
“Henry, I asked you to remain after school a few minutes because I wanted you to help me rearrange the desks and furniture, but I had another reason for asking you to remain, and I think it is more important than the one I have just stated.”
The desks had all been arranged according to the teacher’s notion, and Henry Holt had gathered up his books to go home. It was then that his teacher, Miss Ada Johnson, addressed him.
“Won’t you sit down here a minute, David?” she continued. “I wish to speak to you a minute or two.”
David quietly took a seat. He was one of the largest boys in school, and had been giving an unusual amount of trouble during the day. In fact he had been a source of annoyance ever since the new teacher had taken charge.
A Heart-to-Heart Talk.
“David,” the teacher went on, “I wonder if you realize how hard you have made it for me in school to-day? Is there any reason why we cannot be friends and work together? And I wish to be a friend to you, if you will let me. You could help me so much and you could help your schoolmates so much if you only would. I want to ask you if you think your conduct has been manly to-day? Has it been kind?”
David said nothing, but hung his head.
“I heard before I came here that you were an unruly boy. People say that you will neither study nor work, and some people say that you are a very mean boy. Some of these things may be true, David, I am sorry to say, but I want to tell you that you are the only hope of a widowed mother, and I want to say, also, that I think that you are breaking her heart.” The teacher’s voice faltered at the last words.
“I know that your father,” the low voice went on, “was a brave and noble man; and when I hear people say, ‘It is a good thing that Henry Oliver died before he knew what his son was coming to,’ I think what a pity it is that they cannot say, ‘How sad it is that Henry Oliver died before he could know what a fine, manly fellow his son would be, and what a stay and comfort to his mother’.”
The boy’s head dropped to the desk in front of him, and he began to sob. The teacher went over to him and said gently:
“You can be all this. It is in your power to be all that your father would have you, all that your mother would have you. Will you not turn over a new leaf now, not only in your behavior and work in school, but in your whole life as well?”
David raised his head.
“I am with you—I’ll do it, teacher,” he replied, a new resolve shining in his face. All that day he did some of the most serious thinking of his life. And he kept his promise.
The years have been many since then. The little teacher has long since passed to her rest, but David Oliver is a living monument to the power of a few searching words, the potency of a little personal interest and kindliness manifested at a critical time.