CHAPTER III.

PAYING OFF A GRUDGE.

The morning after the events just related, as Ralph was on his way to
school, he fell in with Willie Davenport, or "Whistler," as he was
often sportively called, by his playmates, in allusion to his fondness
for a species of music to which most boys are more or less addicted.
And I may as well say here, that he was a very good whistler, and came
honestly by the title by which he was distinguished among his fellows.
His quick ear caught all the new and popular melodies of the day,
before they became threadbare, which gave his whistling an air of
freshness and novelty that few could rival. It was to this
circumstance--the quality of his whistling, rather than the
quantity--that he was chiefly indebted for the name of Whistler. Nor
was he ashamed of his nickname, as he certainly had no need to be; for
it was not applied to him in derision, but playfully and good-naturedly.

Whistler and Ralph were good friends. There was a difference of
between two and three years in their ages, Whistler being about twelve
years old; but their dispositions harmonized together well, and quite a
strong friendship had grown up between them. A very different feeling,
however, had for some time existed between Oscar and Whistler. They
were in the same class at school; but Whistler studied hard, and thus,
though much younger than Oscar, he stood far before him as a scholar.
This awakened some feeling of resentment in Oscar, and he never let
slip any opportunity for annoying or mortifying his more industrious