Page:The spirit of the leader (IA spiritofleader00heyl).pdf/86

 at that moment, the dawning of manhood. It sobered him. Cross currents of thought were at work. Now he would have all the prankishness of a boy; on the instant he would change and be cast in the manner of a man grown serious and thoughtful.

He ate a leisurely breakfast, and had time to walk to school as befitted one who felt so changed, or changing. Reaching the street on which the school stood, he frowned across at the imposing building of brick and stone. The roadway had once been of smooth macadam, but time had wrought decay. There were holes and ruts in the pavement; ridges and patches where the bare earth showed.

"They ought to fix this street," Littlefield reflected; and started across. It had rained hard the night before, and the holes were filled with water; and where the water ended, streaks of mud began. The right end picked his way gingerly. One freshly shined shoe, getting into the mud, was suddenly smeared. One heel, slapping into a pool of water, sprayed the trouser leg. Littlefield, muttering in anger, mounted the other sidewalk and strode, mud-dappled, into the school.

He was early. The corridors were practically deserted. But up in Room 13 he found George