IN SCHOOL
Rico was nearly nine years old and had attended school two winters.
There was no school in the mountains in the summer, for every one,
including the teacher, was busy farming. Rico did not mind this,
however, for he had his own way of passing the time. In the morning he
would go out to the doorsteps where he would remain watching the house
opposite until a girl with laughing eyes beckoned him to come across.
They always had much to say to each other of all that had happened
since they were together before. Her name was Stineli, and she and
Rico were nearly the same age. They had always gone to school
together, were in the same classes, and from the first had been the
best of friends.
Rico extended his intimacy to no one else. It was little pleasure to
him to be with the boys of the neighborhood. When they wrestled in the
school yard, Rico either walked away or paid no attention to them. If,
however, they attacked him, he would face them with such a strange
look that they ceased troubling him.
With Stineli he was perfectly contented. She had a lovely face with
merry light-brown eyes. Her fluffy golden hair was gathered into two
heavy braids which hung loosely from her shoulders. She was scarcely
nine years old, but there were seven younger brothers and sisters. For
these she had to do a great many things, so that her time for play was
sadly limited. The other children were Trudt, Sam, Peter, Urschli,
Anna, Kunzli, and the baby. Calls for Stineli seemed to come from
every direction, and she willingly helped wherever she could. The
mother said that Stineli could put on three pairs of stockings for the
little ones while Trudt, the younger sister, was getting a child's
foot in place for the first one.
Stineli went to school gladly, for there was always the pleasant walk
going and returning with Rico. So many duties fell to her share during
the summer that she had no leisure except on Sunday afternoons. Then
she and Rico, who had usually been waiting on the doorsteps opposite,
would go hand in hand over the wide meadow to the wooded hill beyond
that stretched far out into the lake. There they would sit and look
down into the water and watch the waves beat against the shore. Here
they enjoyed themselves so much that Stineli was happy all the week in
looking forward to the pleasure of the next Sunday.
There was some one else who contributed greatly to Stineli's
pleasure. This was her aged grandmother, who made her home with the
family. She noticed how much was expected of Stineli and often gave
her bits of money to brighten a hard day's work. She was very fond of
Rico and occasionally made it possible for Stineli to play with him by
taking the household duties upon herself.
The grandmother frequently spent the summer evenings sitting in the
front yard, and Stineli and Rico liked to sit with her and listen to
the stories she told them. When the vesper bell rang she would say,
"Remember, that is the signal for our evening worship." Then the three
would devoutly repeat the Lord's Prayer.
"Your evening devotion ought never to be neglected," the grandmother
continued one evening; "I have lived many more years than you have,
and I have known many people, but I have observed that there is a time
in the life of every one when prayer is needful. I have some in mind
who did not pray, but when troubles came they had nothing to comfort
them. I want you to know that you need not worry so long as you use
this prayer."
It was May and the school was still in session, although it could not
be kept open much longer, for the trees were beginning to show green
tips, and great stretches of ground were entirely free from snow.
Rico was standing in the doorway, observing these facts while waiting
for Stineli. Earlier than usual the door across the way opened and she
ran to him.
"Have you been waiting long? No doubt you've been building air castles
at the same time," she said, laughing. "We shall not be late to-day,
even if we walk slowly. Do you ever think about that pretty lake any
more?" asked Stineli, as they walked along.
"Indeed I do," replied Rico; "I often dream of it, too, and I see
large red flowers near the violet-colored hills I told you about."
"But dreams don't count," broke in Stineli. "I have dreamed that Peter
climbed up the tallest tree, but when he got to the topmost branch I
thought it was only a bird, and then he called to me to dress him.
That proves how impossible dreams may be."
"This one of mine is possible," asserted Rico. "It makes me think of
something that I have really seen, and I know that I have looked at
those flowers and the hills. The picture is too real to be a dream
only." As they neared the schoolhouse a company of children ran to
meet them, and they all entered the schoolroom together.
In a few moments the teacher came. He was an old man who had taught in
this room many years, and his hair had grown thin and gray as the
years passed by. This morning he began the exercises with a number of
questions on previous work, following this with the song, "Little
Lambs."
Rico was looking so attentively at the teacher's fingering of the
violin strings that he forgot to sing. The children, being accustomed
to depending upon Rico's voice, sang out of tune, and the notes from
the violin became more and more uncertain until all was in confusion.
The song was abruptly ended by the teacher's throwing the violin on
the table in disgust. "What are you trying to sing, you foolish
children?" he exclaimed. "If I only knew who gets so out of tune and
spoils the whole song!"
A lad sitting next to Rico ventured to say, "I know why it went that
way; it always does when Rico doesn't sing."
"What is that I hear about you, Rico?" began the teacher, sharply.
"You are a very obedient little fellow, but inattention is a serious
fault, the result of which you have just seen. Let us try again. Now,
Rico, see that you sing this time."
The children joined heartily, and Rico's voice sustained the song to
the end. Then the teacher gave the violin a few final strokes and laid
it on the table. "A good instrument that!" he said, and rubbed his
hands with evident satisfaction.