“Hey, there, teacher!” called out Johnny Scott to Miss Strong, whom he
spied across the road. “Say, you didn’t lick me today, did you? Pa said
you would, but I told him where he got off at.”
[Sidenote: Loud Manners]
The men lounging before the postoffice laughed good-naturedly as Johnny
yelled this greeting to his teacher. She was embarrassed, but not angry,
for she knew Johnny and fine manners had never had a fair chance to
become acquainted. She dreaded going to the postoffice for her letters,
but as she could not have them without making the trip, she finally
mustered up courage and ran the gauntlet of staring idlers. One of them,
Ike Masters, spoke to her as she came out.
“Well, the first day’s done, ain’t it?” he asked with kindly interest.
“An’ you ain’t sorry, now, I’ll bet. If my boy gives you any trouble
just lick the stuffing out of him, an’ I’ll do it again when he gits
home if I’ve hearn about it.” His friends nodded and guffawed their
approval, and Miss Strong escaped with a murmur and a smile. The smile
came because she realized that these mountain people were kindly
disposed toward her and her work, and that their crudeness was that of
ignorance and not that of viciousness.
“We are going to play a game,” she announced the next day, when regular
lessons were done and the happy play-hour had come. “We’re going to play
we are going along the street, and meet each other. We’ll practice the
right way to greet our friends.” She told a little story of a boy who
started out one morning and met various people,—a lady, whom he greeted
with lifted hat; an old man, whose basket he carried; a stranger, whom
he directed; and a lost baby, whom he took home to his mother. She
illustrated graphically the various stages in this small paragon’s
progress, and then asked who wanted to play that he was Ben Blossom (the
name of the model boy). Two hands went up; really all wanted to play,
but games were a new thing and the children were shy. So these two boys
were allowed to put on their hats and play the little drama of good
manners. She herself took the part of the woman, and greeted the boy who
lifted his hat with sweet courtesy. She hobbled along like an old man,
with her satchel for a basket, and she selected the smallest girl to be
the lost baby. They were all so excited about the play that they forgot
to stop at four o’clock; and Miss Strong promised that they might play
it again.
When they played it the second time, Bob Everly took the part of Ben,
and Dicey Snively was the lady. “Good morning, Miss Snively,” Bob called
out cheerily as soon as he entered the room. “How d’ you do?”
“Aw, that ain’t the way to do it,” Bud Hawkins complained.
“’Tis too,” returned Bob, hotly. “Ain’t it, Miss Strong?”
“Let’s talk about that,” said Miss Strong. “Bob, do you think Ben
Blossom shouted at the lady as soon as he saw her, or did he wait until
he was near her and then spoke in a rather low voice?”
“He waited!” Bud Hawkins put in virtuously.
“I don’t know,” said Bob. “What _did_ he do?”
“He waited until he had almost reached her, and then he lifted his hat
with the hand that was on the other side of her. See if you can show Bud
just how it was done.”
Bob did it beautifully. “Now,” said Miss Strong, “I want to see if you
can bow and lift your hats to me, next time you pass me on the road, as
nicely as Ben Blossom did to that lady he knew. And you’ll wait until
you are near me before you begin to tell me things, won’t you? I like
that so much better than calling out to me.”
“My pop don’t lift his hat,” said Bud. “He says it’s stuck-up.”
“I think it’s stuck-up _not_ to lift your hat,” said the new teacher.
“If you don’t lift your hats, I might think you didn’t like me.”
By means of such little plays Miss Strong taught her mountain boys and
girls the more obvious points of good manners. Gradually they learned
not to shout to her across the road, to address her by name instead of
by the title “Teacher,” and to raise their caps punctiliously when she
passed. A few of the fathers, as eager as their children to learn the
ways of the world, also learned to salute her courteously; but most of
them merely tolerated this innovation as a harmless fancy of the new
teacher’s.