er continued, "that it might be better not to press
the point."

"Oh, if you have no control over him--" Mr. O'Shea was beginning
pleasantly, when the Principal suggested:

"You'd better let us hear what he has to say, Miss Bailey; make him
understand that you are master here." And Teacher, with a heart-sick
laugh at the irony of this advice in the presence of the Associate
Superintendent, turned to obey.

But Morris would utter no words but these, dozens of times repeated: "I
have a fraid." Miss Bailey coaxed, bribed, threatened and cajoled; shook
him surreptitiously, petted him openly. The result was always the same:
"It's polite I tells you something out, on'y I had a fraid."

"But, Morris, dear, of what?" cried Teacher. "Are you afraid of me? Stop
crying now and answer. Are you afraid of Miss Bailey?"

"N-o-o-oh m-a-a-an."

"Are you afraid of the Principal?"

"N-o-o-oh m-a-a-an."

"Are you afraid,"--with a slight pause, during which a native hue of
honesty was foully done to death--"of the kind gentleman we are all so
glad to see?"

"N-o-o-oh m-a-a-an."

"Well, then what is the matter with you? Are you sick? Don't you think
you would like to go home to your mother?"

"No-o-o-oh m-a-a-an; I ain't sick. I tells you 'scuse."

The repeated imitation of a sorrowful goat was too much for the
Honorable Tim.

"Bring that boy to me," he commanded. "I'll show you how to manage
refractory and rebellious children."

With much difficulty and many assurances that the gentleman was not
going to hurt him, Miss Bailey succeeded in untwining Morris's legs from
the supports of the desk and in half carrying, half leading him up to
the chair of state. An ominous silence had settled over the room. Eva
Gonorowsky was weeping softly, and the redoubtable Isidore Applebaum was
stiffened in a frozen calm.

"Morris," began the Associate Superintendent in his most awful tones,
"will you tell me why you raised your hand? Come here, sir."

Teacher urged him gently, and like dog to heel, he went. He halted
within a pace or two of Mr. O'Shea, and lifted a beseeching face toward
him.

"I couldn't to tell nothing out," said he. "I tells you 'scuse. I'm got
a fraid."

The Honorable Tim lunged quickly and caught the terrified boy
preparatory to shaking him, but Morris escaped and fled to his haven of
safety--his Teacher's arms. When Miss Bailey felt the quick clasp of the
thin little hands, the heavy beating of the over-tired h