see. Well, I suppose you've already begun to fight like a man,
haven't you? I hope so."

"Oh, yes, sir!"

But, as I went, I knew in my heart that it was not true. The whole first
day had been false.

III

FRIDAY NIGHT

Those first days at high school seemed terrible in the intensity of new
experiences. Had I but had my parents to encourage me, perhaps I should
not have felt so bitterly the loneliness of this new turn in the road.

I do not care how manly and resolute he is, a boy will always need the
kind words, the clasp and kiss which only his parents can give him. And
I was not half so resolute then, nor half so hardened to battle as I am
now.

I worried a good deal about my standing in the class room. It seemed to
me that I could not possibly pass each day's recitations creditably. And
yet I did, as I remember. It was only that I so sorely lacked
self-confidence.

My aunt, Mrs. Haberman, did her duty in taking me to a nerve specialist.
He charged her a pretty price to examine me and to assure her that,
physically, there was nothing wrong with me.

"Mentally, he is a little too active," was his sentence upon me. "And
that is what makes him melancholy. Let him study, let him get out and
meet boys of his own age.... Let him find something to be proud of, to
be interested in."

My aunt gave this last a few pettish, impatient moments of thought.
After the doctor was gone, and she and I sat opposite each other at the
table, where the glass and silver made so ostentatious a showing, she
did her best to be practical about it.

"Now, dear, let's see," she pondered, her long white fingers stroking
the table cloth, "I'm sure we can find something to interest and amuse
you, dear. How about basket weaving? or coloring photographs or
something artistic like that?"

I wasn't very polite in my refusals. I declined basket weaving and
coloring photographs and even balked at the idea of installing a
billiard table in our apartment--which seemed to relieve Mrs. Haberman
immensely, since she considered billiards a brutal and vulgar game.

All her suggestions came to naught. Once she spoke of religion, but her
eyes fluttered and she changed the subject quickly, as if she had
accidently hit upon the truth and found it unpleasant. It was enough to
put an idea into my head.

I did not know then, but I do now, that the thing I needed was Faith. A
boy needs it--needs it as much as he needs his parents--and I had
ne