AN APRON-STRING BOY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume X, Issue 5, 4 February 1893, Page 119

AN APRON-STRING BOY.

up to the post office with us !’ called out Norman. ‘ I’ve got to mail a letter for 4 pA- 7 ) father.’ A'rAW The speaker and his sister stopped at the gate, while Ralph Preston walked down from the verandah. ‘ I can’t go to night,’ said Ralph. ‘ Mother has gone out, and left the house with me.’ ‘Guess the house won’t run away !’ laughed Norman. ‘ No,’ returned the other, * but mother expects me to be here.’

‘ Oh, I wouldn’t be tied to my mother’s apron-string ?’ sneered Norman. Come on, Grace.’

‘ How can you be so rude ?’ said the girl, as Ralph’s face flushed.

‘ I don’t care !’ said Norman, turning away with a whistle. Ralph Preston was two years older than Norman White, and the close comrade of his brother Frank. Norman had been foolish enough to think he might make Frank jealous by going home and telling him that Ralph bad been up town with them, and he had been a little nettled by Ralph’s refusal. It was nearly dark when Grace and Norman passed Ralph's house on their way home, but they could see the boy sitting alone on the verandah. ‘ You are an apron-string boy, you are !’ was Norman’s salutation.

‘ I think you are mean to talk so; lam ashamed of you 1’ said Grace.

Her brother laughed. Norman bad not learned much wisdom in his eleven years, as was shown bj' his remark when he reached home. ‘ I have found out something about your paragon of a friend,’ he said to Frank, who was working over his algebra under the study-lamp. ‘ What?’ said Frank, eagerly. ‘ Well, said Norman, slowly, enjoying his brother’s show of interest, ‘ I have found out that he is a regular apronstring boy.’ ‘ Pshaw !’ returned Frank, a bit indignantly. * Look out what you say against him ; he is the best fellow in town !’ and he resumed his study, while Norman went off laughmg. , One day, a week afterward, Norman’s teacher, Miss Bradford, found him whispering on her return to the schoolroom after an absence of a few minutes. ‘ That is the fifth time you have communicated this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I am sorry I cannot trust you. You may come to the desk.’

The boy stepped lightly to Miss Bradford’s side, speller in hand. He supposed that he should be seated upon the platform for the next hour, a punishment that he rather enjoyed. ‘ I think I must keep you close to me for awhile,’ said his teacher, fastening her apron tightly around her waist, and knotting the end of one string in the button-hole of Norman s jacket.

His face grew red, as a titter ran round the room : but in a moment he bad iecovered himself and was smiling as broadly as any of the scholars, quite as if he liked the novelty of his position. He trotted after Miss Bradford, as she walked about, and he had begun to think it was not so bad a punishment after all, when the lady stepped toward the door. Norman’s heart gave a leap of terror. He had not counted on this. • O Miss Bradford, please don’t make me go out into the hall ! Oh. please don’t! I won’t whisper another time this term if you’ll let me off !’ His teacher shook her head gravely. She was used to the boy’s promises, and she felt that nothing but a severe lesson would teach him obedience. Norman groaned as the door closed behind them, for there, crossing the hall, was Ralph Preston. Ralph only glance 1 up, but in that brief space Norman knew that his humiliating position had been noted, and his own words repeated themselves over and over, ‘ You are an apron string boy, you are!’ Oh, if he could have taken them back ! Now, Ralph would tell Frank, and the two would have much fun at his expense. Norman’s eyes were fastened on the floor after that. His bravado was all gone. A more miserable boy it would have been hard to find. The ordeal was over, at last, and Miss Bradford said, as she released him : ‘ I shall have to try this every time you whisper.’ ‘ You will never have another chance,’ said Norman. She never did. Six weeks passed, and Norman heard not a word from those at home in reference to that dreadful afternoon. One holiday the four friends were together when Norman exclaimed : ‘ Ralph Preston, you are a brick !’ Frank looked puzzled. • Why such sudden praise ?’ he asked, laughing. *Am I not a brick, too ?’ • Yes, you are,’ returned his brother, ‘ but not for the same reason ;’ and not another word could he be coaxed to say about it.

But Ralph knew that this was Norman’s way of thanking him for his silence.