Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute by Jr. Horatio Alger (romance book recommendations TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute by Jr. Horatio Alger (romance book recommendations TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“Stand up, Hector Roscoe!” repeated the principal. “No wonder you sit there as if paralyzed. You did not expect that so soon your sin would find you out.”
Then Hector recovered completely his self-possession. He sprang to his feet, and not only that, but he strode forward, blazing with passion, till he stood before Mr. Smith’s desk and confronted him.
“Mr. Smith!” he said, in a ringing tone, “do I understand you to charge me with stealing a wallet of yours containing money?”
“I do so charge you, and I have complete evidence of the truth of my charge. What have you to say?”
“What have I to say?” repeated Hector, looking around him proudly and scornfully. “I have to say that it is an infamous lie!”
“Hold, sir!” exclaimed Socrates, angrily. “Shameless boy, do you intend to brazen it out? Did I not tell you that I had complete proof of the truth of the charge?”
“I don’t care what fancied proof you have. I denounce the charge as a lie.”
“That won’t do, sir! I myself took the wallet from the pocket of your pantaloons, hanging in the chamber. Mrs. Smith was with me and witnessed my discovery, and there was another present, one of the pupils of this institute, who also can testify to the fact. It is useless for you to deny it!”
“You found the wallet in the pocket of my pantaloons?” asked Hector, slowly.
“Yes. There can be no doubt about that.”
“Who put it there?” demanded Hector, quickly.
Socrates Smith was staggered, for he had not expected this query from the accused.
“Who put it there?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir,” continued Hector, firmly. “If the matter is as you state it, some one has been mean enough to put the wallet into my pocket in order to implicate me in a theft.”
“Of course you put it there yourself, Roscoe. Your defense is very lame.”
Hector turned round to his fellow-scholars.
“Boys,” he said, “you have heard the charge that has been made against me. You know me pretty well by this time. Is there any one of you that believes it to be true?”
“No! No!” shouted the boys, with one exception. Jim Smith was heard to say distinctly, “I believe it!”
“Silence in the school!” shouted Socrates. “This is altogether irregular, and I won’t have it.”
Hector turned to the principal, and said, calmly:
“You see, Mr. Smith, that, in spite of your proof, these boys will not believe that your charge is well founded.”
“That is neither here nor there, Roscoe. Will anyone step up and prove your innocence?”
There was another sensation. In the second row back a boy was seen to rise.
“Mr. Smith,” said Ben Platt, “I can prove Roscoe’s innocence!”
CHAPTER XX. HECTOR GAINS A VICTORY.
There were two persons on whom Ben Platt’s declaration made a profound impression. These were Jim Smith and his uncle, the learned Socrates. The latter was surprised, for he was fully persuaded that the charge he had made was a true one, and Hector was a thief. As for Jim, his surprise was of a very disagreeable nature. Knowing as he did that, he himself had taken the money, he was alarmed lest his offense was to be made known, and that the pit which he had digged for another should prove to be provided for himself.
Socrates was the first to speak after taking time to recover himself from his surprise.
“This is a very extraordinary statement, Platt,” he said. “You say you can prove Roscoe’s innocence?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Platt, firmly.
“I wish no trifling here, sir,” said the principal, sharply. “I myself found the wallet in Roscoe’s pocket.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Ben Platt, “I know it was there.”
“You knew it was there!” repeated Socrates. “How did you know it was there?”
“Because I saw it put in.”
Here Jim Smith’s face turned from red to pale, and he moved about uneasily in his seat. “Could Ben Platt have been hidden somewhere in the room?” he asked himself, “If so, what was he to do?” There was but one answer to this question. He must brazen it out, and boldly contradict the witness. But he would bide his time. He would wait to hear what Ben had to say.
“Did you put it in yourself?” asked Socrates, savagely.
“No, Mr. Smith, I didn’t put it in,” answered Ben, indignantly.
“None of your impudence, sir!” said the schoolmaster, irritated.
“I merely answered your question and defended myself,” answered Ben.
There was a little murmur among the pupils, showing that their sympathy was with the boy who had been so causelessly accused by the principal.
“Silence!” exclaimed Socrates, annoyed. “Now,” he continued, turning to Ben, “since you know who put the wallet into Roscoe’s pocket—a very remarkable statement, by the way—will you deign to inform me who did it?”
“James Smith did it!” said Ben, looking over to the principal’s nephew, who was half expecting such an attack.
“It’s a base lie!” cried Jim, but his face was blanched, his manner was nervous and confused, and he looked guilty, if he were not so.
“My nephew?” asked Socrates, flurried.
“Yes, sir.”
“It isn’t so, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, excited. “I’ll lick you, Ben Platt, when we get out of school.”
“You forget yourself, James,” said Socrates, with a mildness he would not have employed with any other pupil.
“I beg your pardon, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, with contrition, “but I can’t be silent when I am accused of things I don’t do.”
“To be sure, you have some excuse, but you should remember the respect you owe to me. Then you did not do it?”
“Certainly not, sir.”
“So it appears, Platt, that you have brought a false charge against your fellow-pupil,” said Mr. Smith, severely. “I can conceive of nothing meaner.”
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