Rewrite it as if you were nat
what fibs they were, and my old grandmother cured me of it—how, do you think? My parents had talked, and cried, and punished, but still did I forget as you. Then said the dear old grandmother, ‘I shall help you to remember, and put a check on this unruly part,’ with that she drew out my tongue and snipped the end with her scissors till the blood ran. That was terrible, you may believe, but it did me much good, because it was sore for days, and every word I said came so slowly that I had time to think. After that I was more careful, and got on better, for I feared the big scissors. Yet the dear grandmother was most kind to me in all things, and when she lay dying far away in Nuremberg, she prayed that little Fritz might love God and tell the truth.”
“I never had any grandmothers, but if you think ‘t will cure me, I’ll let you snip my tongue,” said Nat, heroically, for he dreaded pain, yet did wish to stop fibbing.
Mr. Bhaer smiled, but shook his head.
“T have a better way than that, I tried it once before’ and it worked well. See now, when you tell a lie I will not punish you, but you shall punish me.”
“ How?” asked Nat, startled at the idea.
“You shall ferule me in the good old-fashioned way, I seldom do it myself, but it may make you remember better to give me pain than to feel it yourself.”
“ Strike you? Oh, I could n’t!” cried Nat.
“Then mind that tripping tongue of thine. I have no wish to be hurt, but I would gladly bear much pain to cure this fault.”
Stepping-Stones 6%
This suggestion made such an impression on Nat, that for a long time he set a watch upon his lips, and was desperately accurate, for Mr. Bhaer judged rightly, that love of him would be more powerful with Nat than fear for himself. But alas! one sad day Nat was off his guard, and when peppery Emil threatened to thrash him, if it was he who had run over his garden and broken down his best hills of corn, Nat declared he did n’t, and then was ashamed to own up that he did do it, when Jack was chasing him the night before.
He thought no one would find it out, but Tommy happened to see him, and when Emil spoke of it a day or two later, Tommy gave his evidence, and Mr. Bhaer heard it. School was over, and they were all standing about in the hall, and Mr. Bhaer had just sat down on the straw settee, to enjoy his frolic with Teddy; but when he heard Tommy, and saw Nat turn scarlet, and look at him with a frightened face, he put the little boy down, saying, “Go to thy mother, biibchen, I will come soon,” and taking Nat by the hand led him into the school, and shut the door.
The boys looked at one another in silence for a minute, then Tommy slipped out and peeping in at the half-closed blinds, beheld a sight that quite bewildered him. Mr. Bhaer had just taken down the long rule that hung over his desk, so seldom used that it was covered with dust.
“My eye! he’s going to come down heavy on Nat this time. Wish I had n’t told,” thought goodnatured Tommy, for to be feruled was the deepest disgrace at this school.
You remember what I told you last time?” said Mr. Bhaer, sorrowfully, not angrily.
“Yes; but please don’t make me, I can’t bear it;” cried Nat, backing up against the door with both hands behind him, and a face full of distress.
‘Why don’t he up and take it like a man? I would,” thought Tommy, though his heart beat fast at the sight.
“T shall keep my word, and you must remember to tell the truth. Obey me, Nat, take this and give me six good strokes.”
Nat took the rule, for when Mr. Bhaer spoke in that tone every one obeyed him, and, looking as scared and guilty as if about to stab his master, he gave two feeble blows on the broad hand held out to him. Then he stopped and looked up half-blind with tears, but Mr. Bhaer said steadily, —
“ Go on, and strike harder.”
As if seeing that it must be done, and eager to have the hard task soon over, Nat drew his sleeve across his eyes and gave two more quick hard strokes that reddened the hand, yet hurt the giver more.
“Ts n’t that enough?” he asked in a breathless sort of tone.
“Two more,” was all the answer, and he gave them, hardly seeing where they fell, then threw the rule all across the room, and hugging the kind hand in both his own, laid his face down on it sobbing out in a wassion of love, and shame, and penitence, —
Then Mr. Bhaer put an arm about him, and said in @ tone as compassionate as it had just now been irm, —
“T think you will. Ask the dear God to help you, and try to spare us both another scene like this.”
“What fibs they were, and my old grandmother cured me of it—how, do you think? My parents had talked, and cried, and punished, but still did I forget as you. Then dear old grandmother said, ‘I shall help you remember and put a check on this unruly part,’ and she took out my tongue and snipped the end with her scissors until it bled. It was terrible, you can imagine, but it did me a lot of good because it was sore for days, and every word I spoke came out slowly so I had time to think. After that, I was more careful and did better because I was afraid of the scissors. But my dear grandmother was always kind to me in everything, and when she was dying far away in Nuremberg, she prayed that little Fritz would love God and tell the truth.”
“I've never had any grandmothers, but if you think it will cure me, I'll let you snip my tongue,” said Nat bravely, even though he feared pain but wanted to stop fibbing.
Mr. Bhaer smiled, but shook his head.
“I have a better way than that, I tried it once before and it worked well. See now, when you tell a lie, I won't punish you, but you shall punish me.”
“How?” asked Nat, surprised by the idea.
“You shall hit me with a paddle in the old-fashioned way. I seldom do it myself, but it may help you remember better to cause me pain than to feel it yourself.”
“Hit you? Oh, I couldn't!” cried Nat.
“Then be careful with your tongue. I don't want to get hurt, but I'm willing to endure a lot of pain to help you correct this fault.”
This suggestion made such a strong impression on Nat that he became very cautious for a long time. He was very accurate with his words, for Mr. Bhaer was right in assuming that love for him would be more effective with Nat than fear for himself. But unfortunately, one sad day, Nat let his guard down. When Emil threatened to beat him up for running over his garden and knocking down his corn, Nat denied it and then felt ashamed to admit that he had done it when Jack was chasing him the night before.
He thought no one would ever find out, but Tommy happened to see him. And when Emil mentioned it a couple of days later, Tommy gave his testimony, and Mr. Bhaer heard it. School was over and they were all standing in the hallway. Mr. Bhaer had just sat down on the straw settee to play with Teddy when he heard Tommy and saw Nat turn red and look at him with a frightened expression. He gently put Teddy down, saying, “Go to your mother, biibchen, I will come soon,” and taking Nat's hand, he led him into the classroom and closed the door.
The boys looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Tommy sneaked out and peeked in through the partially closed blinds. He saw a sight that confused him completely. Mr. Bhaer had just taken down the long paddle that hung over his desk, a paddle that was rarely used and covered in dust.
“My goodness! He's going to punish Nat severely this time. I wish I hadn't said anything,” thought Tommy, knowing that being paddled was the biggest disgrace at this school.
“You remember what I told you last time?” said Mr. Bhaer, with a tone of sorrow, not anger.
“Yes, but please don't make me, I can't bear it,” cried Nat, backing up against the door with both hands behind him and a distressed face.
“Why doesn't he face it like a man? I would,” thought Tommy, even though his heart was racing at the sight.
“I will keep my word, and you must remember to tell the truth. Obey me, Nat, take this paddle and give me six good strokes.”
Nat took the paddle because when Mr. Bhaer spoke in that tone, everyone obeyed him. Looking as scared and guilty as if he were about to harm his teacher, Nat gave two weak strokes on the broad hand held out to him. Then he stopped and looked up, his eyes filled with tears. But Mr. Bhaer said firmly,
“Keep going, and hit harder.”
As if understanding that it had to be done and wanting to get it over with, Nat wiped his eyes with his sleeve and quickly gave two more strong strokes that reddened Mr. Bhaer's hand but hurt Nat even more.
“Isn't that enough?” he asked in a breathless voice.
“Two more,” was the only reply, and he struck twice more, not really seeing where they landed. Then he threw the paddle across the room and, hugging Mr. Bhaer's kind hand in both of his own, he laid his face down on it and sobbed with a mix of love, shame, and remorse.
Then Mr. Bhaer wrapped an arm around him and spoke in a tone as compassionate as it had just been firm,
“I think you will. Ask God to help you, and try to spare both of us from another scene like this.”