In neither history
nor arithmetic did he attempt to answer a question,
passing in his papers perfectly blank. These
examinations took place in the morning. In the
afternoon he did not take the trouble even to
appear for the remainder."
Mr. Bronson ceased reading and looked up.
"Where were you in the afternoon?" he asked.
"I went across on the ferry to Oakland," Joe answered, not caring to offer
his aching head and body in extenuation.
"That is what is called 'playing hooky,' is it not?"
"Yes, sir," Joe answered.
"The night before the examinations, instead of studying, you saw fit to
wander away and involve yourself in a disgraceful fight with hoodlums.
I did not say anything at the time. In my heart I think I might almost
have forgiven you that, if you had done well in your school-work."
Joe had nothing to say. He knew that there was his side to the story, but
he felt that his father did not understand, and that there was little use
of telling him.
"The trouble with you, Joe, is carelessness and lack of concentration.
What you need is what I have not given you, and that is rigid discipline.
I have been debating for some time upon the advisability of sending you
to some military school, where your tasks will be set for you, and what
you do every moment in the twenty-four hours will be determined for you--"
"Oh, father, you don't understand, you can't understand!" Joe broke forth
at last.
Pages:
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60