He was seven years old, lived in Cheyenne, and his name was Tommy. Moreover he was going to school for the first time in his life. Out here little people are not allowed to attend school when they are five or six, for the Law says: "Children under seven must not go to school."
But now Tommy was seven and had been to school two weeks, and such delightful weeks! Every day mamma listened to long accounts of how "me and **** Ray played marbles," and "us fellers cracked the whip." There was another thing that he used to tell mamma about, something that in those first days he always spoke of in the most subdued tones, and that--I am sorry to record it of any school, much more a Cheyenne school--was the numerous whippings that were administered to various little boys and girls. There was something painfully fascinating about those whippings to restless, mischievous little Tommy who had never learned the art of sitting still. He knew his turn might come at any moment and one night he cried out in his sleep: "Oh, dear, what will become of me if I get whipped!" But as the days passed on and this possible retribution overtook him not, his fears gradually forsook him, and instead of speaking pitifully of "those poor little children who were whipped," he mentioned them in a causal off-hand manner as, "those cry-babies, you know?" One afternoon mamma saw him sitting on the porch, slapping his little fat hand with a strap. "Tommy, child, what in the world are you doing?" she asked.
Into his pocket he thrust the strap, and the pink cheeks grew pinker still as their owner answered:
"I--I--was just seeing--how hard I could hit my hand--without crying;" and he disappeared around the side of the house before mamma could ask any more questions.
The next day Tommy's seatmate, ****y Ray, was naughty in school, and Miss Linnet called him up, opened her desk, took out a little riding whip--it was a bright blue one--and then and there administered punishment. And because he cried, when recess came, Tommy said: "Isn't **** Ray just a reg'lar girl cry-baby?" (He had learned that word from some of the big boys, but, mind you! he never dared to say it before his mother.)
****'s face flushed with anger. "Never you mind, Tommy Brown," said he, "Just wait till you get whipped and we'll see a truly girl-cry-baby then, won't we, Daisy?"
And blue-eyed Daisy, who was the idol of their hearts, nodded her curly little head in the most emphatic manner, and said she "wouldn't be one bit s'prised if he'd holler so loud that hey would hear him way down in Colorado."
Tommy stood aghast! for, really and truly, he wasn't quite so stony-hearted a little mortal as he appeared to be; he had been secretly rather sorry for ****, but--he wanted Daisy to think that he himself was big and manly, and he had the opinion that this was just the way to win her admiration. But all this time HE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT DAISY DID--that ****'s pockets were full of sugar-plums; tiptop ones too, for Daisy had tasted them, and knew that little packets of them would from time to time find their way into her chubby hand.
All the rest of the morning Tommy kept thinking, thinking, thinking. One thing was certain: the present situation was not to be endured one moment longer than was absolutely necessary.
But what could he do? Should he fight ****y? This plan was rejected at once, on high, moral grounds. Well, then, supposing some dark night he should see Daisy on the street, just grab her, hold on tight and say: "Now, Daisy Rivers, I won't let you go till you promise you'll like me a great deal betterer than you do **** Ray." There seemed something nice about this plan, very nice; the more Tommy thought of it, the better he liked it; only there were two objections to it. Firstly: Daisy never by any chance ventured out doors after dark. Secondly: Neither did Tom.
Both objections being insurmountable, this delightful scheme was reluctantly abandoned, and the thinking process went on harder than ever, till at last--oh, oh! if he only dared! What a triumph it would be! But then he couldn't--yes, he could too.
Didn't she say that she "wouldn't be one bit s'prised if he hollered so loud that they would hear him way down in Colorado?"
Colorado, indeed! He'd show her there was one boy in the school who wasn't a girl-cry-baby!
Yes, actually, foolish Tommy had decided to prove his manhood by being whipped, and that that interesting little event should take place that very afternoon!
What did he do? He whispered six times!
