THE FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL
FRANK HAVEN piloted Benny Lane among the crowding scholars. The little
fellow used a crutch, and some of the rougher boys nearly swept him off
his feet.
“It seems like home again, doesn’t it, Sammy?” whispered Bob, as they
took their places at their old desks.
There was the usual hum and bustle that always took place on the first
day of school.
Miss Williams, the teacher, welcomed all the boys and girls with a
pleasant smile. She gave the scholars time to settle themselves in
their seats before she called the school to order.
When she finally tapped the little bell on her desk everybody became
quiet, except Jed Burr. He was leaning over towards Sammy’s desk,
mumbling out something about getting even with him. Miss Williams
tapped the desk sharply with her ruler, and looked right at Jed. He
scowled at Sammy and then at the teacher.
“There will be no school this afternoon,” began Miss Williams, and
there was a great rustling about, and everybody grew eager and smiling.
“The school board will meet here this afternoon,” went on the teacher,
“so you will have a half holiday.”
“Hurrah!” cheered Sammy to himself.
Bob touched his foot with his own and chuckled.
“This morning you will all come up in your turn and get your classes
and lists for new books,” added Miss Williams. “The new scholars will
come first, please.”
Minnie Grey, a shy little girl whose folks were poor, and who carried
milk and eggs around to sell mornings and evenings, got her list of
books.
She sat right in front of Bob. He could look over her shoulder and read
the list. When he got his own he wrote and slipped her a note.
“dear Minie,” it read, “I have got all the books you nead, and I am
threw with them. You can have them after school.”
Minnie had been looking over her list very solemnly. The cost of the
books seemed a small fortune to her. She studied over Bob’s hasty note
and her eyes sparkled. Then she wrote on her slate, and held it up so
Bob could read the words:
“You are a reel gude boy.”
Jed Burr, who was watching everything Bob did, snickered. One of his
crowd said “cluck-cluck!” in a whisper. Another one pretended to pull
Minnie’s braid of hair as if it were a cow’s tail, and said “Moo-oo.”
It made Jed madder than ever when he found he would have to go over the
studies of the last term. Bob, Frank and Sammy were pleased to find
that they were promoted to the third class, and would all have the same
studies.
Dave Duncan, who was a leader with the best crowd of boys, kept busy
till recess time making up a list of the football teams. It got
whispered about what he was up to, and most of the boys were thinking a
good deal more of the coming sport than of their studies.
Miss Williams went home at recess time for some reports she had left
in her room. Most of the boys stayed in the schoolhouse, for Dave was
telling of the make-up of the new teams.
Jed Burr had a good deal to say about it, but Dave settled it all
without his advice. When they had arranged their plans there were a few
minutes left for play. The boys began chasing each other about the room.
Bob, in dodging a boy who was chasing him, pulled open a door of
a little storeroom just behind the teacher’s desk. He was intent
on hiding, but the other saw his move. Bob only slipped inside the
storeroom, and then sprang out again.
Several times Jed Burr brushed by Sammy and Bob, and seemed to take a
pleasure in bumping up hard against them. Bob paid no attention to his
ugly ways.
Then the teacher came back, and recess was over. There was half an hour
of practising on some school songs. After that Miss Williams gave out
some writing exercises to be done at home.
She went to the little storeroom to fill an ink-well. Jed Burr threw a
wad of paper at some girls as the teacher’s back was turned. He jumped
on his seat and was getting ready to go through what he thought was
some smart antics, when Miss Williams cried out sharply, and came back
into the schoolroom.
“Who pushed the large bottle of ink off the table in the storeroom?”
she asked, sternly.
No one replied. There was utter silence as she looked from face to face.
“Some one did,” went on Miss Williams. “It lies broken on the floor,
and the ink is all over the room.” And necks were craned to notice her
black footmarks from the storeroom.
[Illustration: _Bob Held His Breath, for It Was a Startling Sight_]
Miss Williams waited a moment or two for some one to speak. Then she
asked:
“Has any one of the scholars been in the storeroom this morning?”
“Yes, Bob Bouncer,” said a quick voice.
Bob knew that it was Jed Burr who had spoken. He flushed a little, and
rose to his feet.
“I was in the storeroom, but it was only for a second, Miss Williams,”
he said.
“Then you broke the bottle of ink?”
“No, ma’am, I didn’t,” said Bob.
“You must tell the truth, Bob,” said Miss Williams. “If you broke it by
accident, it could not be helped.”
“I didn’t break it at all. I wasn’t near the table. I wasn’t over a
foot inside the room, Miss Williams.”
There was a sniff and a sneer. The word “stuff” was heard all over the
room. Miss Williams looked very sharply at Bob. Then she touched the
bell, with the words:
“School is dismissed. Bob, you may remain.”
Bob looked pretty glum as the other scholars trooped out. Jed Burr
chuckled as he passed him. Little Minnie Grey was in tears. Frank was
angry, and he hurried out after Jed to give him a piece of his mind.
Miss Williams sat down at her desk and paid no attention to the lonely
scholar left in the room. She knew Bob to be a good boy, but she knew,
too, that he was proud and stubborn, and never liked to be censured
before the whole school. She hoped that silence and thought would lead
Bob to confess, if he had really spilled the ink.
Bob heard the boys in the distance shouting and playing. It made him
more gloomy than ever to think how they were planning for the football
game that afternoon, and he was shut out from it.
Miss Williams went on quietly writing at the desk. Bob got tired
looking around the room. He dropped his head upon his arms and tried
not to feel mean. Miss Williams thought he was sulking, and did not
disturb him. Suddenly Bob raised his head quickly.
“Sit still, dearie,” spoke a strange voice. “Sit still now, or I’ll
stick you.”
Bob’s eyes opened to their widest. The door of the storeroom was now
open. A woman had come from it. She had stolen up behind the school
teacher without being seen or heard by Miss Williams.
As she spoke the words that caused Bob to look up, she grasped the long
back hair of the school teacher in one hand. In the other she waved a
long sharp-pointed pair of scissors.
Miss Williams tried to turn around, but the woman kept a firm hold on
the coils of her hair.
“Why, Mary,” spoke the teacher, turning pale, but trying to act calmly,
“how did you come here?”
Bob also knew the woman at a glance. She was called Simple Mary. Some
years before, her husband and child had been drowned in a great storm
on Rainbow Lake. The shock drove the poor creature out of her mind.
Since then she had had frequent spells, when the authorities had to
shut her up in an asylum. Then she would be very quiet for weeks at a
time, when she would roam about the country. Some kind-hearted people
always gave her work or shelter.
Bob held his breath, for it was quite startling to see Mary waving the
scissors. Her eyes looked wild, and she was not in one of her quiet
moods, that was certain.
“I’ve been here hiding in the storeroom since before school,” began
Mary, with a sly laugh.
“Why, what for?” asked Miss Williams.
“To wait for you.”
“For me, Mary?” said the teacher, as calmly as she could.
“Yes, ma’am. You see, I expect my little child home to-night. You know,
she has been away at school for nearly four years.”
“Indeed, Mary,” replied Miss Williams, humoring the delusion of the
poor mother. “That will be very nice, indeed.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m making her a beautiful doll, and I need some hair for
its head. You have got such lovely hair, I want it. Now, if you hold
still I won’t hurt you, but if you don’t I will have to stick you.”
Mary’s eyes glared as she said this. Miss Williams was very much
frightened, but she sat perfectly still.
“If you will come home with me, Mary, I will give you some hair I have
that was cut off when I was sick.”
“No, ma’am, I want this hair,” replied Mary, stubbornly. “Oh, how
pretty it will look on the doll!” she cried.
Bob made up his mind that it was time for him to act. He saw that the
witless woman would either cut off Miss Williams’ hair, or hurt her
with the scissors.
“It’s lucky I’m here,” thought Bob, “even if I was kept in for nothing.”
Bob stooped low in the shadow of the desks, and crept down the aisle.
As he got clear of the last desk, Mary pulled back the head of the
teacher. Miss Williams uttered a faint scream.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but you must keep still,” cried Mary, quite
angrily.
Bob reached her side in a quick dash. He reached out so strongly that
he managed to wrench the scissors from her hand. Giving them a fling
away over beyond the last row of desks, Bob got a firm grip on Mary’s
wrist.
Miss Williams saw what he had done and gave a glad cry.
She at once seized the other wrist of Mary. Then both held her a
prisoner.
Mary got very wild. She turned on Bob and her eyes were blazing.
“You bad boy!” she cried. “When I get my scissors again I’ll cut your
fingers off.”
“Now be sensible, Mary,” pleaded Miss Williams gently with the
struggling woman. “You don’t want me to send for the constable and have
you taken back to the poor farm, do you?”
This terrified and finally quieted the mad woman.
“Oh, no, no!” she cried. “Please don’t do that; please don’t!”
“See here, Mary,” said Bob, “you know my mother?”
“Yes, I do, Bob,” answered the woman, nodding.
“She’s your friend, isn’t she?”
“Yes, indeed! She gave me a week’s work and a nice room all to myself
last spring.”
“Well, you come with me, Mary,” said Bob, “and we’ll go up to the
house. My mother has been making a silk quilt, and I’m sure she has
some pretty pieces she’ll give you to fix up your doll.”
“Oh, won’t that be fine!” cried Mary, in childish glee. “Yes, yes,” she
said; “take me there right away, will you?”
They felt safe now to let go of Mary. She clapped her hands in great
glee, and seemed to have forgotten about cutting off the teacher’s hair.
“Mary,” asked Miss Williams, “have you been hiding in the storeroom
ever since school began?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, and long before that”
“Did you tip over a bottle of ink in there?”
“I didn’t mean to, but I did,” said Mary.
“Well, never mind; it was an accident. I am very sorry, Bob, I
suspected you of hiding the truth, and kept you in.”
“It’s good you did, the way things have turned out, isn’t it now, Miss
Williams?” laughed Bob.
“I shall tell the scholars that I was in the wrong,” said the teacher.
“Oh, you’re never much in the wrong,” said Bob, gallantly. “All the
fellows know you’re always fair and good to us.”
“Thank you, Bob.”
“Come on. Let us run,” spoke Mary, and Bob let her take his hand.
“Remember, now, I’m to have some of those fine silk patches?”
“I am sure my mother will give them to you, Mary,” replied Bob.
Some of the Burr crowd hooted and jeered as they saw Bob with Simple
Mary. Sammy ran after him, and Bob explained matters to his chum.
“Be sure to get back here by one o’clock, Bob,” called out Sammy, as
they parted.
“Is there going to be a game?” asked Bob.
“Yes, a fine one, and our crowd needs you.”
“I’ll be on hand,” promised Bob.
Mary chatted in her childish, innocent way. When they reached the
Bouncer home Mary sat down on the grass to pet a little kitten. This
gave Bob a chance to get to his mother and explain how matters were.
Mrs. Bouncer came out, in her pleasant, kindly way, and took Mary into
the house. Bob knew that his mother would do all that was right for the
poor lady, and set about his noon-time chores.
He had his lunch and then went up to his den to get some of his
football togs. When he came down his mother told him that the village
sewing circle was to meet at the house that afternoon. They would
arrange for the comfort and safety of Mary in some way, she said.
As Bob started from the house he saw Mary seated in the little
summer-house, looking over some pretty pieces of silk like a pleased
child, and singing to herself in a happy, contented way.
“I’ve got lots of time,” said Bob to himself, as he walked down the
street, “but I’ll get to the field early, so as to have a talk about
the game with Dave.”
“Oh, Bob! Bob!” called out a hurried voice, as he was passing a neat
little cottage, setting somewhat back from the street.
Its owner and tenant, Miss Simmons, the prim old maid of the village,
came out to the gate. She looked worried.
“Bob, will you do me a favor?” she asked, in an excited way.
“I’ll be glad to, Miss Simmons,” replied Bob.
“Well, my little nephew Walter has been staying with me for a few days.
He has been missing for over an hour. I thought he was playing with
some neighbors’ children, but I find that none of them has seen him.”
“Oh, he’s safe somewhere,” said Bob, seeing how nervous and frightened
the old maid was.
“Won’t you please try and find him?”
“Of course I will,” replied Bob, promptly. “I’ll look myself, and if I
don’t find him I’ll get the other boys to join in the search.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” said Miss Simmons.
Bob turned around to start down the street, when he chanced to look
ahead of him.
“Why, Miss Simmons, there is Walter now,” he said.
“Oh, so it is,” cried the old maid, starting down the street.
A dusty, tired-out little youngster came towards them. Bob walked on
with Miss Simmons, until they reached him.
“You bad little boy!” cried Miss Simmons, seizing Walter by the arms.
“Where have you ever been?”
“I’ve been playing postman, that’s all,” replied the little fellow.
He perked up in a proud sort of a way as he said this, Bob thought.
“Postman?” repeated Miss Simmons, with a sniff.
“Yes, Aunty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, I’ve been giving out letters all along the street, ’way, ’way
down it,” replied the little urchin, with a slow, long sweep of his
chubby little arm.
“What letters? Where did you get them?” asked Miss Simmons, sharply.
“Just out of the box on your bureau, Aunty,” was the innocent reply.
“Out of—my box—on—the bureau!” almost shrieked Miss Simmons, turning
pale.
“Yes, Aunty.”
“And what did you do with them?” cried Miss Simmons, greatly excited.
“I passed them out, just as our postman does, to all the houses.”
“O-oh! o-oh!” screamed the old maid.
Then she fell against the fence as if overcome, and slipped to the
ground. She wrung her hands, and screamed outright. The amazed Bob saw
her roll over on the grass in a fit of hysterics.