ooding over real or fancied troubles. Gloom never mends matters: it
can only make them worse.

CHAPTER XIV.

AN HONOURABLE SCAR.

Bert was not learning very much at Mr. Garrison's school. He had some
glimmering of this himself, for he said to Frank one day, after they had
returned to their seats from having gone through the form--for really it
was nothing more--of saying one of their lessons:

"It's mighty easy work getting through lessons at this school, isn't it,
Shorty?" And Shorty, being of the same opinion, as he had happened not
to be asked any questions, and, therefore, had not made any mistakes,
promptly assented.

"That's so, Bert," said he, "and the oftener he asks Munro and you to
say the whole lesson, and just gives me the go-by, the better I like
it."

But Bert was not the only one who noticed that his education was not
making due progress. His father observed it too, and, after some
thinking on the subject, made up his mind that he would allow Bert to
finish the spring term at Mr. Garrison's, and then, after the summer
holidays, send him to some other school.

The winter passed away and spring drew near. Spring is the most dilatory
and provoking of all the seasons at Halifax. It advances and retreats,
pauses and progresses, promises and fails to perform, until it really
seems, sometimes, as though mid-summer would be at hand and no spring at
all. With the boys it is a particularly trying time of the year. The
daily increasing heat of the sun has played havoc with the snow and ice,
and winter sports are out of the question. Yet the snow and ice--or
rather the slush they make--still lingers on, and renders any kind of
summer sport impossible. For nearly a month this unsatisfactory state of
affairs continues, and then, at length, the wet dries up, the frost
comes out of the ground, the chill leaves the air, and marbles,
rounders, baseball, and, later on, cricket make glad the hearts and tire
the legs of the eager boys.

This spring was made memorable for Bert by an occurrence that left its
mark upon him, lest, perhaps, he might be in danger of forgetting it. In
front of the large building, in one room of which Mr. Garrison's school
was held, there was a large open square, known as the Parade. It was a
bare, stony place kept in order by nobody, and a great resort for the
roughs of the city, who could there do pretty much what they pleased
without fear of interruption from the police. On the u