The enterprise-recorder. (Madison, Fla.) 1908-1933, 1909-03-25
THE NEW BOY.
by MARY HUBBARD HOWELL

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It was a bright autumn morning.
The fall term of st. Rudolph's School
had begun on Wednesday; now it was
Saturday, and the boys had a long
holiday before them. Out on the
playground Tom Hadden--a new hoy
who had only arrived the night be-
fore-was standing by himself, and
looking about with the curious but
sober eyes Of boy who felt as If he
were in a new world, and who was
as yet extremely doubtful as to his
chances for happiness in that world.
Hello, Tom Hadden; is that you?"
some one called suddenly.
Toms gloomy face frightened, and
he turned eagerly toward a group of
boys near him. who were talking and
laughing in the manner so express
sive at once Of good comradeship and
much self-importance, that always
marks the old boys at the beginning
OF a new school year. Tom knew
several of those boys he had met
them during the summer vacations,
and their greetings now were so
hearty that in a few minutes he quite
forgot that he was that forlorn crea-
ture, strange boy in a large school;
and he gladly accepted an invitation
to join his new friends in a tramp
over the hills to a village some miles
from st. Rudolph's. In high spirits
they set out; the hills were crossed
and early in the afternoon they
reached the village.
Now for Cruger's," shouted sever
al of the boys, and they led the way
to a saloon and boisterously pushed
open the door.
Tom held back. He did not like
the appearance Of the place.
What are we going in here for?"
he asked.
For a spread, Of course" one of
the boys explained. They cook great
dinners here; come on"
Tom was quite ready for
spread" and willingly followed the
boys into a little back room where
the saloon proprietor assured them
they would be undisturbed. Their
dinner Of oysters and beefsteak was
soon served, and thoroughly enjoyed
by the hungry boys; then a dessert
of fruit, cake, and pie was ordered,
and when the last crumb of the last
cake had disappeared and the waiter
had removed the dishes from the
table, Frank Jones, their acknowl-
edged leader, said gayly: Nov, fell
lows, before we go, Wen have a low
ing cup"
"A loving cup; what's that" Tom
asked of the boy nearest him.
"You needn't be afraid of 1t, It
won't hurt you; it's only beer" the
boy answered.
Beer? l don't want any," and
Tom pushed back his chair.
D. "Sit still; you can't go yet" Frank
Jones said, and at that moment the
waiter returned with the black beer
bottles.
Amid shouts Of laughter the corks
were drawn, and then one of the
boys started the song:
And here's hand, my trusty friend
And gie's hand of thine,
And Wen take right guild WILLIE
wought--
"No, no." Tom Hadden shouted,
"this is wrong. / Will not drink.
Let me CO."
The boys stopped singing. $50
you are a kill-sport, are you?" one
Of them said scornfully.
"No. no. Tom cried, "but l can't
drink. Let me CO."
The beer was foaming in their
glasses, but the boys left it untouched
while they stared at Tom.
You are a fool, Tom.' one Of
said. What harm can 2 glass of
beer do you?"
Come, Tom," coaxed another,
"don't make a row about nothing;
be a man and drink our beer
Il WON'T" Tom said sharply. lie.
me co."