PINE HILL.
Ere long, exaggerated rumors reached Meadow Brook of the very creditable
manner in which I had acquitted myself at the examination, whereupon
Aunt Sally Wright was quite taken aback. Soon rallying, however, she had
recourse to her second prediction, which was that “I should not teach
more than half the summer out.” Perhaps I wrong the old lady, but I
cannot help thinking that the ill-natured stories concerning myself,
which she set afloat at Pine Hill, were in a great measure the cause of
her prophecy being fulfilled. Never before, to my knowledge, had she
visited at Capt. Thompson’s, but now she spent an entire day there,
bringing back to us the intelligence that John Thompson, a boy just one
year my senior, was going to stay at home that summer, as “Miss Cap’n
Thompson hadn’t no idee I could teach him.”
Added to this was the comforting assurance, that “Cap’n Thompson was
hoppin’ mad because Mr. Randall had hired me in preference to his sister
_Dell_, who had herself applied for the school.” This, as I afterwards
learned, was the secret of the dislike which, from the first, the
Thompsons entertained for me. They had no daughter, but the captain’s
half sister Dell had lived with him ever since his marriage, and between
her and their hopeful son John, the affections of himself and wife were
nearly equally divided.
Dell Thompson was a proud, overbearing girl, about eighteen years of
age, who esteemed herself far better than her neighbors, with whom she
seldom associated, her acquaintances living mostly at what was called
“the Centre” of the town. It seems that she had applied for the summer
school, but remembering that she had once called him a “country clown
and his wife ignorant and vulgar,” Mr. Randall had refused her and
accepted me. Notwithstanding that the people of Pine Hill generally
disliked the Thompsons, there was among them a feeling of
dissatisfaction when it became known that I was preferred to Dell, who,
they thought, would have given _tone_ and _character_ to the school, for
“it wasn’t every _big bug_ who would stoop to teach.”
Of this state of affairs I was fortunately ignorant, and never do I
remember a happier morning than that on which I first took upon myself
the responsibilities of a teacher. By sunrise, the little hair trunk,
which grandma lent me, was packed and stood waiting on the doorstep,
where I had carried it, thinking thus to accelerate the movements of my
father, who did not seem to be in any particular hurry, telling me,
“he’d no idea that school would be commenced before we got there!”
Grandma had suggested the propriety of letting down my dresses, a
movement which I warmly seconded, but mother said “No, she did not like
to see little girls dressed like grown up women;” so, in my new plaid
gingham and white pantalets, I waited impatiently until the clock struck
seven, at which time father announced himself ready.
“When will you come home?” asked mother, as she followed me to the gate.
“In three weeks,” was my reply, as I bounded into the buggy, which soon
moved away.
Pine Hill is not all remarkable for its beautiful scenery, and as old
Sorrel trotted leisurely along, down one steep hill and up another,
through a _haunted_ swamp, where a man had once, to his great terror,
seen his departed wife, and over a piece of road, where the little
grassy ridges said, as plain as grassy ridges could say, that the
travellers there were few and far between, my spirits lowered a little.
But, anon, the prospect brightened, and in the distance we saw the white
walls of Capt. Thompson’s residence gleaming through the mass of
evergreens which surrounded it. This, however, soon disappeared, and for
a mile or more my eye met with nothing save white birches, grey rocks,
green ferns, and blackberry bushes, until suddenly turning a corner, we
came to a halt before one of those slanting-roofed houses so common in
New England. It was the home of Mr. Randall, and it was there that I was
to board the first week. In the doorway, eating bread and molasses, were
his three children who, the moment they saw us, set up a shout of
“somebody’s come. I guess it’s the schoolma’am!” and straightway they
took to their heels as if fleeing from the presence of a tigress.
After a moment, the largest of them ventured to return, and his example
was soon followed by the other two, the younger of whom, after eyeing me
askance, lisped out, “Don Thompthon thays he ain’t afraid of you; he can
lick you like _dunder_!”
This was a pleasant commencement, but I smiled down upon the little boy,
patting his curly head, while father inquired for Mrs. Randall, who, we
learned, was sweeping the schoolhouse. Leaving the hair trunk, which was
used by the children for a horse ere we left the yard, we again set
forward, and soon reached our place of destination, which, without
shade-tree or ornament of any kind, stood half-way up a long, sunny
hill, commanding a view of nothing save the weathercock of Captain
Thompson’s barn, which was visible across the orchard opposite. We found
Mrs. Randall enveloped in a cloud of dust, her sleeves rolled up, and
her head covered by a black silk handkerchief.
“The room wasn’t fit for the pigs,” she said, “and ought to have been
cleaned, but somehow nobody took any interest in school this summer, and
I’d have to make it answer.”
I didn’t care particularly for the room, which, in truth, was dirty and
disagreeable enough, but the words “nobody took any interest this
summer,” affected me unpleasantly, for in them I saw a dim foreshadowing
of all that ensued. Father, who was in a hurry, soon left me, bidding me
“be a good girl, and not get to _romping_ with the scholars.” From the
window I watched him until he disappeared over the sandy hill, half
wishing, though I would not then confess it, that I and the little trunk
were with him. I was roused from my reverie by Mrs. Randall, who, for
some time, had been looking inquisitively at me, and who now said,
“Ain’t you but thirteen?”
“No, ma’am,” I answered.
“Wall,” she returned, “it beats all how much older you look. I should
s’pose you was full sixteen, if not more. But it’s all in your favor,
and I guess you’ll be more likely to suit the deestrict, though they’re
afraid you haven’t any government, and they’re terrible hard to suit.
So, if I’s you,” she continued, “I’d hold a pretty tight rein at first.
I give you full liberty to whip my young ones if they don’t behave. They
know better than to complain at home.”
Involuntarily I glanced at the clump of alders which grew near the
house, and if they were somewhat diminished ere my reign was o’er, the
“Deestrict” owed it to Mrs. Randall’s suggestion. After sitting awhile,
she arose to go, telling me “she should expect me at night,” and then I
was alone. I looked at my watch; it was half-past eight, and not a
scholar yet. This was widely different from Meadow Brook, where, by
seven, the house was generally filled with children, hallooing,
quarrelling over seats, and watching eagerly for the first sight of “the
new schoolma’am.” Here the tables were turned, and “the schoolma’am” was
watching for her scholars!
Suddenly a large bumble-bee came buzzing in, and alighted on a window
opposite. Like Sir Thomas the Good, in the Ingoldsby Legends, I have a
passion for capturing insects, especially whitefaced bumble-bees, and
now I felt strongly inclined to mount the desks in pursuit of the
intruder, but the thought “What if the scholars should detect me?”
prevented, and, to this day, I have never known whether that bumble-bee
had a _white_ face, or belonged to the class of colored brethren! Ten
minutes of nine, and I began to grow fidgety. I should have been more
so, had I known how much is sometimes said about teachers not keeping
their hours. Five minutes of nine, and round the corner at the foot of
the hill appeared a group of children, while from another direction came
others, shouting for those in advance to “wait,” which they did, and the
whole entered the house together. A few of the girls made a slight
obeisance, while the boys laughed, and throwing down their books in a
very consequential manner, looked distrustfully at me. My _age_ had
preceded me, and in many of these childish hearts there was already a
spirit of rebellion.
Here I would speak against the impropriety of discussing a teacher’s
faults in the presence of pupils, who will discover them soon enough.
Many a teacher starts disadvantageously because of some idle tale, which
may or may not be true, but which, borne on the wings of gossip, reaches
its place of destination, and is there thoughtlessly canvassed in the
hearing of children, who thus become prejudiced against a person they
have never seen, and whom they otherwise might have liked. In my case,
the fault was _my age_, which had evidently been discussed in the
neighborhood; for, on opening my desk, I found inscribed upon the lid,
in a bold schoolboy style, “Rosa Lee, aged 13,” to which was appended,
in a more delicate hand, “Ancient—very!”
Taking my India-rubber, I erased it while my scholars were settling the
matter of seats, which, strange to say they did without disputing. Then
there ensued a perfect silence, and the eyes of all present turned
inquiringly upon me, while, with sundry flourishes with my silver
pencil, I proceeded to take down upon a big sheet of foolscap the names,
ages, and “what studies do you intend to pursue?” of my pupils. After
much talking and arranging, the school was organized; but the first
morning dragged heavily, and when 12 o’clock came, and I drew from my
sachel the nice ginger snaps which mother had made, the sight of them,
or the taste, or something else, choked me so much that I was obliged to
wink hard, and count the rows of trees in the orchard opposite twice,
ere I could answer the question addressed to me by one of the little
girls.
In the rear of the house was a long strip of dense woods, and wishing to
be alone and out of sight of the sports in which I felt I must not join,
I took my bonnet and wandered thither. Seating myself upon a mossy log,
I tried to fancy that I was at home beneath the dear old grape-vine, the
faintest rustle of whose broad green leaves would, at that moment, have
been to me like the sweetest music. But it could not be. I was a
schoolmistress—_Miss Lee_, they called me, and on my brow the shadows of
life were thus early making their impress. Slowly to me dragged the hour
which always before had been so short, and when at last I took my way
back to school, it seemed that in that short space I had lived an age.
Often since, when I have looked upon young teachers hastening to their
task, I’ve pitied them, for I knew full well how long and wearisome
would be their first day’s labor.
As I approached the schoolhouse I saw that something was the matter, for
the scholars were greatly excited, and with voices raised to the highest
pitch, were discussing something of importance. Thinking that my
presence would perhaps restrain them from such noisy demonstration$, I
hastened forward, but the babel rather increased than diminished, and it
was with difficulty that I could learn the cause of the commotion.
George Randall was crying, while a little apart from him stood two boys,
one of them apparently fourteen and the other twelve. They were
strangers to me and instinctively I felt that they were in some way
connected with the disturbance; and that the larger and more important
looking was _John Thompson_, a surmise which proved to be correct.
It seemed that Isaac Ross, one of the new comers, had some weeks before
selected for himself a corner seat, which, as he was not present in the
morning, had been taken by George Randall, who knew nothing of Isaac’s
intentions, and who now refused to give it up. A fight was the result,
the most of the scholars taking sides with George, while Isaac was urged
on and encouraged by John Thompson, who, though not a pupil, had come up
“to see how he liked the schoolma’am.” As a matter of course an appeal
was made to me, to know “if George hadn’t the best right to the seat,”
Perhaps I was wrong, but I decided that he had, at the same time asking
Isaac “if he were coming to school.”
“I ain’t goin’ to do anything else,” said he, glancing towards John,
who, with a wicked leer at me, knocked off one of the little boys’ hats
and then threw it up in the air.
What would have ensued next I do not know, for at that moment Captain
Thompson rode round the corner and called to his son, who, with mock
deference, bowed politely to me and walked away. Disagreeable as Isaac
Ross appeared in the presence of John Thompson, I found that when left
to himself he was quite a different boy, and though he at first
manifested some reluctance to taking another seat, he at last yielded
the point, and for the remainder of the day conducted himself with
perfect propriety.
On the whole, the afternoon passed away rather pleasantly, and at night,
when school was out, I started for my boarding-place quite contented
with teachers generally, and myself in particular. In passing the
different houses which stood upon the road-side, I demeaned myself with
the utmost dignity, swinging my short dress from side to side in
imitation of a Boston lady who had once taught in our district, and
whose manner of walking I greatly admired! From the window of Captain
Thompson’s dwelling I caught a glimpse of two faces, which were hastily
withdrawn, but I felt sure that from behind the curtains they were
scanning my appearance, and I remember lowering my parasol a little,
just to tantalize them! But when at last I was over the hill and out of
sight, oh, how glad I was to be “Rosa Lee” again, free to pluck the
sweet, wild flowers, to watch the little fishes in the running brook, or
even to chase a whitefaced bumble-bee if I liked.
About fifty rods from Mr. Randall’s stands one of those old-fashioned,
gable-roofed houses, so common in some parts of New England, and here,
at the time of which I am speaking, lived Mrs. Ross, the mother of
Isaac, or _Ike_, as he was familiarly called. I had never met the lady,
but as I approached the house and saw a tall, square-shouldered woman
leaning on the gate, I naturally thought that it might be she; and on
this point I was not long left in doubt, for the moment I came within
speaking distance, she called out, “How dy’ do, Miss Lee—I s’pose ’tis?
You pretty well? I’m Miss Ross, Isick’s mother. He telled me that he had
some fuss about a seat that he picked out more’n a month ago, and thinks
he orto have. I don’t never calkerlate to take sides with my children,
’cause I’ve kept school myself, and I know how bad ’tis, but I do hate
to have Isick git a miff again the schoolma’am on the first start, and
if I’s you I’d let him have the seat instead of George Randall, for
mebby folks’ll say you’re partial to George, bein’ that his father’s
committee-man, and I’ve kept school enough to know that _partiality_
won’t do.”
As well as I could, I explained the matter to her, telling her I wished
to do right, and meant to as far as I knew how.
“I presume you do,” said she, “or I shouldn’t a’ taken the liberty to
speak to you. I knew you’s young, and I felt afeard you didn’t know what
an undertakin’ it was to teach the young idee how to _shute_. The
schoolma’ams have always thought a sight of me, and generally tell me
all their troubles, so I know jest how to take their part when the rest
of the folks are again ’em. Was Susan Brown to school? But she wasn’t
though, I know she wasn’t.”
I replied that there _was_ a little girl present of that name, and my
companion continued: “Now I’ll give up, if Miss Brown has come round
enough to send, when she was so dreadfully opposed to your teaching
you’ve heerd about it, I s’pose?”
I answered that “I didn’t know that any one had opposed me except Mrs.
Thompson.”
“Oh, yes,” said she, assuming an injured look and tone. “Everybody knows
about that, and there’s some sense in their bein’ mad, for ’twas plaguy
mortifyin’ to Dell to offer to teach and be rejected by Mr. Randall, a
man that none of the Thompsons would wipe their old shoes on, and then,
’tisn’t every _big bug_ that will stoop to teach, for you know ’tain’t
considered fust cut.”
“No, I didn’t know it,” and so I said, but she assured me of the fact,
quoting as authority, both Mrs. Thompson and Dell, who, I found, were
her oracles in everything. After a time I brought her back to Mrs.
Brown, whose husband, she said, was gone to sea, and who had herself
applied for the school.
“But between you and me,” she added, speaking in a whisper, “it’s a
mighty good thing that she didn’t get it, for she ain’t the likeliest
person that ever was, and nobody under the sun would have sent to her.
Isick shouldn’t a’ gone a single day, for her morals is very bad. She
used to belong to the Orthodox Church, but they turned her out for
dancin’ at a party, and when she lived in Wooster she jined the
‘Piscopals, who, you know, let their members cut up all sorts—but, land
sakes! how I’m talkin’! You must not breathe a word I say, for I make it
a pint not to slander my neighbors, and if everybody minded their own
business as well as I do, there wouldn’t be so much backbitin’ as there
is. And that makes me think I’ve half a mind to caution you—but no, I
guess I won’t—mebby you’ll tell on’t.”
Of course my curiosity was roused, and of course I said I wouldn’t tell;
whereupon she proceeded to inform me that Mrs. Randall was a very
talkin’ woman, and I must be pretty careful in her presence. “You can
tell me anything you wish to,” said she, “for I’m a master hand to keep
a secret; but Miss Randall is forever in hot water. She and Miss Brown
are hand in glove, and both on ’em turn up their noses at Miss Thompson
and Dell, who never pretend to make anything of ’em. I’m considerable
_intimate_, at the Captain’s, and I know all about it. Dell is smart as
a steel trap, and it’s a pity she’s took such a dislike to you.”
“I don’t think she ought to blame me,” said I, “for I didn’t know as she
wanted the school”——
“’Tain’t that altogether,” resumed Mrs. Ross, again speaking in a
whisper. “’Tain’t that altogether, and if you’ll never lisp a word on’t
I’ll tell you the hull story.”
I gave the required promise, and then Mrs. Ross proceeded to inform me
that Dell was jealous of me.
“Jealous!” I exclaimed. “How can that be?”
“You remember Dr. Clayton, don’t you?” said she.
“Yes, I remember him, but what has he to do with Miss Thompson’s being
jealous of me!”
“Why,” returned Mrs. Ross, “Dell’s kinder settin’ her cap for him, and I
guess he’s a snickerin’ notion after her. Any way he comes there pretty
often. Well, he was there the week after the examination, and told ’em
about you. He said you was bright as a new guinea, and had better
larnin’ than half the teachers, and then you had such a sweet
name—_Rose_—he liked it. You orto have seen how mad Dell was at you
after he was gone. I don’t b’lieve she’ll ever git over it.”
Here Ike called out that “the Johnny-cake was burnt blacker than his
hat,” and forthwith Mrs. Ross started for the house, first bidding me
“keep dark,” and telling me she hoped “I wouldn’t be partial to Mr.
Randall’s children, for they needed lickin’ if ever young ones did—they
warn’t brought up like Isick, who was governed so well at home that he
didn’t need it at school.”
I was learning to read the world’s great book fast—very fast—and with a
slightly heavy heart I turned away, pausing once while Mrs. Ross, from
the doorstep, called to me, saying, that “she guessed I’d better give
Isick the seat to-morrow, seem’ his heart was set on’t.”
I found Mrs. Randall waiting to receive me in a clean gingham dress and
apron, with her round, good-humored face shining as if it had been
through the same process with the long line of snow-white linen, which
was swinging in the clothes-yard. The little hair trunk had been removed
to the “best room,” which was to be mine. The big rocking-chair was
brought out for me, the round tea table, nicely spread, stood in the
centre of the floor, and Mrs. Randall hoped I would make myself at home,
and put up with her own rough ways if I could. To be sure, she didn’t
have things quite as nice as Mrs. Captain Thompson, but she did as well
as she knew how. Dear Mrs. Randall! how my heart warmed towards her; and
as I took my seat at the table, and she helped me to a larger slice of
pure white honeycomb than I had ever before been allowed to eat at one
time, I felt that I would not exchange her house for a home at Capt.
Thompson’s.
Without any intention of revealing what Mrs. Ross had imparted to me, I
still felt a great curiosity to know Mrs. Randall’s opinion of her; so,
after a time, I ventured to speak of my having seen her, and to ask when
and where she taught school. With a merry laugh, Mrs. Randall replied,
“I wonder, now, if she’s made your acquaintance so soon! She told you, I
suppose, to come to her with all your troubles, for she knew just how to
pity you, as she’d been a schoolma’am herself.”
My flushed cheeks betrayed the fact that Mrs. Randall had guessed
rightly, and after a moment she continued: “Her keeping school amounts
to this. When she was a girl, a friend of hers who was teaching wanted
to go away for _two_ days, and got Miss Ross, then Nancy Smedly, to take
her place, and that’s the long and short of her experience. She’s a
meddlesome woman, and makes more trouble in the District than anybody
else. She tried to make Miss Brown think she was misused, because we
wouldn’t hire her instead of you, who applied first, and for a spell, I
guess Miss Brown was a little sideways, but she’s a sensible woman and
has got all over it.”
I was about to tell her of the trouble between George and Ike, when she
anticipated me by saying, “George says he and Ike Ross _fit_ about a
seat, and I’ve hired him to give it up peaceably, for if Miss Ross gets
miffed in the beginning, there’s no knowing what kind of a row she’ll
raise, and you are so young I feel kinder tender of you.”
If there were tears in my eyes, they were not tears of grief, and if I
was pleased with Mrs. Randall before, I liked her ten times better now,
for I saw in her a genuine sincerity which convinced me she was my
friend indeed. To be sure, she was rather rough and unrefined, but her
heart was right, and in her treatment of me, she was always kind and
considerate, making ample allowance for my errors and warmly defending
me when she thought I was misused. If in every District there were more
like Mrs. Randall, the teacher’s lot would not be one half so hard to
bear as oftentimes it is.
When I awoke next morning I heard the large raindrops pattering against
the window, and on pushing aside the curtain, I saw that the dark heavy
clouds betokened a dull rainy day. Involuntarily, I thought of the old
garret at home, where on such occasions we always resorted, “raising
Cain generally,” as Sally said, and when, with umbrella, blanket-shawl,
and overshoes, I started for school, I looked and felt forlorn indeed.
Raining as it was, it did not prevent Mrs. Ross from coming out with the
table-spread over her head, to tell me that “though she never warn’t an
atom particular, and never meant to interfere with teachers, as she knew
just what it was, she _did_ hope I’d give Isick the seat, and not be
partial to George Randall.”
I replied that “I’d see to it,” and was hurrying along, when she again
stopped me to know “what I’d got in my dinner basket that was good.”
Afterwards I found it to be one of her greatest peculiarities, this
desire to know what her neighbors had to eat, and I seldom passed her
door that she did not inquire of me concerning the “kind of fare” I had
at the different places where I boarded. When I reached the schoolhouse,
I found George Randall transferring his books to another part of the
room, at the same time telling Isaac “he could have the disputed seat if
he wanted it.”
With the right kind of training and influence Isaac Ross would have been
a fine boy, for there were in his disposition many noble traits of
character, and when he saw how readily George gave up the seat, he
refused to take it, saying, “he didn’t care a _darn_ where he sat—one
place was as good as another.”
That day was long and dreary enough. Not more than half the children
were there, and I found it exceedingly tiresome and monotonous, sitting
in that hard, splint-bottomed chair, and telling Emma Fitch and Sophia
Brown, for the hundredth time, that the round letter was “O” and the
crooked one “S.” The scholars, too, began to grow noisy, and to ask me
scores of useless questions. Their lessons were half learned, and if I
made a suggestion, I was quickly informed that their former teacher,
Sally Damm, didn’t do so. Even little Emma Fitch, when I bade her keep
her eyes on the book instead of letting them wander about the room,
lisped out that “Thally Damm let her look off;” a fact I did not dispute
when I found that she had been to school all winter without learning a
single letter by sight, though she could repeat the entire alphabet
forward and back and be all the while watching a squirrel on the
branches of the tree which grew near the window.
Before night a peculiar kind of sickness, never dangerous, but decidedly
disagreeable, began to creep over me, and had it not been for the mud, I
should probably have footed it to Meadow Brook, where alone could be
found the cure for my disease. Just before school was out a little boy
cried to go home, and this was the one straw too many. Hastily
dismissing the scholars, I turned towards the window and my tears fell
as fast as did the rain in the early morning.
“The schoolma’am’s cryin,’—she is. I saw her,” circulated rapidly among
the children, who all rushed back to ascertain the truth for themselves.
“I should think she would cry,” said one of the girls to her brother.
“You’ve acted ugly enough to make anybody cry, and if you don’t behave
better to-morrow, Jim Maxwell, I’ll tell mother!”
After the delivery of this speech, the entire group moved away, leaving
me alone; and sure am I there was never a more homesick child than was
the one, who, with her head lying upon the desk, sat there weeping in
that low, dirty schoolroom, on that dark, rainy afternoon. Where now was
all the happiness I had promised myself in teaching? Alas! it was
rapidly disappearing, and I was just making up my mind to brave the
ridicule of Meadow Brook, and give up my school at once, when a hand was
laid very gently on my shoulder, and a voice partially familiar said,
“What’s the matter, _Rose_?”
So absorbed was I in my grief, that I had not heard the sound of
footsteps, and with a start of surprise I looked up and met the serene,
handsome eyes of _Dr. Clayton_, who stood at my side! He had been to
visit a patient, he said, and was on his way home, when, seeing the door
ajar, he had come in, hoping to find me there, “but I did not expect
this,” he continued, pointing to the tears on my cheek. “What is the
matter? Don’t the scholars behave well, or are you homesick?”
At this question I began to cry so violently, that the doctor, after
exhausting all his powers of persuasion, finally laid his hand
soothingly on my rough, tangled curls, ere I could be induced to stop.
Then, when I told him how disappointed I was, how I wished I had never
tried to teach, and how I meant to give it up, he talked to me so
kindly, so brotherlike, still keeping his hand on my shoulder, where it
had fallen when I lifted up my head, that I grew very calm, thinking I
could stay in that gloomy room forever, if _he_ were only there! He was,
as I have said before, very handsome, and his manner was so very
fascinating, and his treatment of me so much like what I fancied
Charlie’s would be, were he a grown up man and I a little girl, that I
began to like him very, very much, thinking then that my feeling for him
was such as a child would entertain for a father, for I had heard that
he was twenty-seven, and between that and thirteen there was, in my
estimation, an impassable gulf.
“I wish I had my buggy here,” he said at last, after consulting his
watch, which pointed to half-past five, “I wish I had my buggy here, for
then I could carry you home. You’ll wet your feet, and you ought not to
walk. Suppose you ride in my lap; but no,” he added, quickly, “you’d
better not, for Mrs. Thompson and Mother Ross would make it a
neighborhood talk.”
There was a wicked look in his eye as he said this, and I secretly
wondered if he entertained the same opinion of _Dell_, that he evidently
did of her sister. At length, shaking my hand, he bade me good-bye,
telling me that the Examining Committee had placed _me_ and my school in
his charge, and that he should probably visit me officially on Thursday
of the following week. Like a very foolish child, I watched him until a
turn in the road hid him from view, and then, with a feeling I could not
analyze, I started for my boarding-place, thinking that if I gave up my
school I should wait until after Thursday.
In the doorway, with her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, and her
hair, as she herself said, “at sixes and sevens,” was Mrs. Ross, who,
after informing me that “it had been a desput rainy day,” asked, “if I
knew whether Dr. Clayton had been to Captain Thompson’s?”
There was no reason why I should blush at this question, but I did,
though my sun-bonnet fortunately concealed the fact from my
interrogator, who, without waiting for an answer, continued, “He drove
past here about fifteen minutes ago, and I guess he’s been sparkin’
Dell.”
It must have been an evil spirit surely which prompted my reply that “he
had been at the schoolhouse with me.”
“How you talk! Isick never said a word about it!” was Mrs. Ross’s
exclamation, the blank expression of her face growing still more blank
when I told her that he did not come until the scholars were gone.
“You two been there all sole alone since four o’clock! I’ll give up now!
I hope Dell Thompson won’t find it out, for she’s awful slandersome;
but,” she added, coming to the gate, and speaking in a whisper, “I’m
glad on’t, and mebby she’ll draw in her horns, if she finds that some of
the _under crust_, as she calls ’em, can be noticed by Dr. Clayton as
well as herself.”
Equivocal as this compliment was, it gratified me, and from that moment
I felt a spirit of rivalry towards Dell Thompson. Still, I did not wish
her to know of Dr. Clayton’s call, and so I said to Mrs. Ross, who
replied, “You needn’t be an atom afeard of _my_ tattlin’. I know too
well what ’tis to be a schoolmarm, and have the hull Deestrict peekin’
at you. So if you’ve anything you want kept, I’m the one; for I can be
still as the grave. Did the doctor say anything about Dell, but he
didn’t, I know, and ’taint likely he said anything about anybody.”
I replied, that he talked with me about my school, and then as I heard
the clock strike six I walked along. Looking back, as I entered Mr.
Randall’s gate, I saw Mrs. Ross’s old plaid shawl and brown bonnet
disappearing over the hill as fast as her feet could take them, but I
had no suspicion that her destination was _Captain Thompson’s_! I did
not know the world then as well as I do now, and when the next morning I
met Dell Thompson, who stared at me insolently, while a haughty sneer
curled her lip, I had no idea that _she_ was jealous of _me_, little
Rosa Lee, whose heart was lighter, and whose task seemed far easier on
account of Dr. Clayton’s past and promised visit.
Saturday night came at last, and very joyfully I started home on foot,
feeling not at all burdened with the compliments of my patrons or the
esteem of my pupils. Oh, what a shout was raised at the shortness of my
three weeks, as I entered our sitting-room! All laughed at me, except my
mother. She was not disappointed, and when I drew Carrie’s little
rocking-chair to her side, and told her how hard my head was aching, she
laid her soft hand caressingly upon my brow, and gently smoothing my
short curls, bathed my forehead in camphor until the pain was gone. Had
there been no one present but our own family, I should probably have
cried; but owing to some untoward circumstance, Aunt Sally Wright was
there visiting that afternoon, and as a teacher I felt obliged to
maintain my dignity before her prying eyes. Almost her first salutation
to me was, “Wall, Rosa, so you’ve grown old since you left home?”
“I do not understand what you mean,” I answered.
“Why, I mean,” said she, “that somebody told me that Mrs. Green told
them, that Major Pond’s wife told her, that Mary Downes said, that Nancy
Rice heard Miss Cap’n Thompson say that you told Dr. Clayton you was
_sixteen_!”
I knew that the subject of my age had not come up between me and the
doctor, but it was useless to deny a story so well authenticated, so I
said nothing, and Aunt Sally continued; “They do say you thrash ’em
round about right,” while mother asked “who Dr. Clayton was?”
“Why, he’s a young pill-peddler, who’s taken a shine to Rosa, and staid
with her alone in the schoolhouse until _pitch dark_,” said Aunt Sally,
her little green eyes twinkling with the immense satisfaction she felt.
Greatly I marvelled as to the source whence she obtained the
information, which so greatly exceeded the truth; and considering that
no one knew of the doctor’s call but _Mrs. Ross_, it really was a
wonder! She was proceeding with her remarks, when we were summoned to
the supper table, where green tea had so good an effect upon her, that
by the time she was blowing her third cup, she began to unbend,
repeating to me several complimentary remarks which she said came from
Mrs. Ross. By this I knew that she had Pine Hill as well as Meadow Brook
upon her hands, and, indeed, ’twas strange how much Aunt Sally did
manage to attend to at once; for, besides keeping her son’s wife
continually fretted, and her daughter constantly quarrelling with her
husband, by her foolish interference; there was scarcely a thing
transpired in the neighborhood in which she did not have a part. Not a
marriage was in prospect, but she knew something bad of both parties;
not a family _jar_ occurred in which she did not have a finger. Not a
man owed more than he was worth, but she had foreseen it from the first
in the extravagance of his wife. But everybody in Meadow Brook knew Aunt
Sally, and it was a common saying, that “her tongue was no slander;” so
I did not feel as much annoyed as I otherwise should at her spiteful
remarks, which continued with little intermission until dark, when,
gathering up her snuff-box, knitting, and work-bag, she started for
home.
The next day was the Sabbath, and if at church, I _did_ now and then
cast a furtive glance at the congregation, to see if they were looking
at me because I was a “schoolma’am,” it was a childish vanity, which _I_
have long since forgiven, as I trust my reader will do. Among the
audience was our minister’s young bride, and when, after church, he
introduced her to me, saying to her, “This is Rose, who, I told you, was
only thirteen and teaching school,” I felt quite reconciled to my lot,
and thought that after all, it was an honor to be a teacher.