STARTING SCHOOL
"You see," explained Bobby, as the children turned down the street
that led past the schoolhouse, "primary school isn't so awfully
important. That's why the grammar and high school got the new
building; I heard old Hornbeck say so."
"You shouldn't call him old Hornbeck," said Meg reprovingly. "Mother
says it isn't respectful."
Bobby didn't answer, for they had reached the primary school building
and he was busy counting windows to find Miss Mason's room. The Oak
Hill primary grades occupied an old building on a corner lot, while
the grammar and high schools were housed in a handsome modern building
a few blocks away, with a playground and even an extra lot for the
school gardens. But the primary children really had a better time by
themselves, and were certainly spared a great amount of teasing.
"----Five, six," finished Bobby. "There--see the sixth window on the
second floor? That's our room, Meg."
Meg gazed interestedly at the window that looked exactly like all the
other windows and yet was different to her because it was a part of
the schoolroom she had never seen.
"Is Miss Mason cross, Bobby?" she asked timidly.
"Not always," said Bobby encouragingly. "Course if you whisper or
giggle, or chew chewing gum----My! how she does hate chewing gum," he
added. "But most times she is nice. And you ought to hear her read
stories!"
Miss Mason taught two sections of the first and second years, and so
it happened that Meg would be in the same room with Bobby, although
this was her first year at school and his second. Last year Meg had
gone to a small private kindergarten, but she was very eager to go to
what she called a "real school."
"I think it's mean we can't go," complained Twaddles, scuffing his
feet moodily as Bobby and Meg went on ahead. "We wouldn't hurt their
old school!"
"Maybe they'll be sorry," said Dot. "Some day they'll want us to go to
school and we won't!"
Lunch was ready when the four little Blossoms reached home, and after
lunch more dresses were waiting for Meg to try on. Miss Florence came
and sewed another day, and then, finally, the first morning of the
school term arrived.
"I hear this is a very important day," announced Father Blossom
smilingly at breakfast. "Don't tell me it is a birthday, and I've
forgotten all about it!"
Meg dimpled.
"'Tisn't a birthday, Daddy," she declared.
Father Blossom pretended to be very much worried.
"I know it isn't Christmas," he said anxiously, "because it isn't cold
enough. And it can't be the Fourth of July. What day is it, Meg?"
"The first day of school!" pronounced Meg triumphantly. "And I'm
going. See, I have on a new dress, and here's my pencil case, and my
hat has new elastic----"
"Well! well! well!" exclaimed Father Blossom, "is it possible? My
eldest daughter old enough to go to school! I suppose in another year
or so the twins will be clamoring for pencil cases and we won't have
any children who have time to play."
"I could go to school now," scolded Twaddles, "only everybody says I'm
too young."
"Never mind," said Father Blossom comfortably. "You've years of school
ahead of you, Son. Does Mother have to go this morning?"
"No indeed," answered Mother Blossom cheerfully. "I've already seen
Miss Mason about Meg, and as she is going to be in the same room with
Bobby, he will look after her. And if you don't want to be late the
first morning, children, I think you should start in a few minutes."
The whole family followed Meg and Bobby to the door to see them off,
and even Norah left her morning work to wave good-by to them. Philip
and Annabel Lee and Sam were standing in the garage door to see them
go, and altogether the two scholars felt rather important.
"There's Fred Baldwin," said Bobby, spying a boy just ahead of them.
"He's in my grade. Hey, Fred!"
The boy turned and waited for them to come up with him.
"Hello," he said shyly, "going to school, Bobby?"
"Sure," replied Bobby. "Here is my sister Meg."
Fred and Meg said "Hello," and the three walked along rapidly toward
the schoolhouse.
"Did you have Miss Mason last year?" Fred asked.
"Yes. You had Miss Watts, didn't you?" said Bobby. "Is she cross?"
"Awful," confided Fred sadly. "I'll bet I stayed in three nights a
week regular."
His dancing black eyes seemed to say that he had had a good time in
school, no matter if he had been kept in; indeed Fred was a
mischievous-looking child, and his own mother was inclined to think,
as she often told him, that Miss Watts probably could tell another
story.
"I have to take Meg up and let her get her seat," announced Bobby when
they reached the school yard. "You coming?"
Fred thought he would stay down and see some of the boys.
"I don't care where I sit," he explained. "And if you go in late most
all the front seats have been given out. I'd rather sit in the back of
the room."
So you see Fred did have a choice, though he said, and probably
honestly thought, he did not.
Meg followed Bobby upstairs and into a large square room half filled
with chattering children. A gray-haired lady was speaking to the young
woman who stood near a desk on a small platform.
"That's Miss Wright, the vice-principal," whispered Bobby, indicating
the gray-haired woman. "Mr. Carter, over at the grammar school, is the
real principal. If you're real bad, Miss Wright sends for him. But she
opens assembly and like-a-that."
Presently Miss Wright went out, and Bobby led Meg up to the teacher.
"This is my sister Meg," he said politely. "She hasn't any seat yet."
"How do you do, Margaret?" said Miss Mason, smiling. "Your name is
really Margaret, isn't it? I like to use my pupils' full names. I'm
sorry your sister can't sit with you, Robert, but I can't mix the
grades. You may have any seat on this aisle, Margaret."
Poor Meg found it most confusing to be called Margaret, and was almost
startled to hear Bobby addressed as "Robert." Father Blossom
occasionally called him that, but only when he meant to scold him. But
Meg sensibly supposed that when one went to school there were a number
of new things to get used to, and it seemed that names were to be
among them.
She chose a seat half-way down the aisle and in a direct row with
Bobby's, which was on the other side of the room. And by the time she
had made her choice and put away her pencil box, Miss Mason announced
that it was five minutes of nine and that no child should leave the
room.
Clang! A harsh gong rang through the halls. Clang! Clang!
The noise in the school yard ceased with a suddenness that was
surprising. The gong rang again and a trampling and scuffling through
the halls announced that the boys and girls were marching up to their
classrooms. Miss Mason took her place at the door, and as a long line
marched into her room she directed them where to sit. Meg wondered
what she was to do with her hat.
"Beginning with the first aisle, the girls may go to the cloak room
and hang up their hats," announced Miss Mason, just as if Meg had
spoken aloud. "Then after all the girls have returned, the boys may
go, aisle by aisle. And I want no whispering or unnecessary delay."
Before the last of the boys had found a hook for his cap, clang! went
the gong again and a piano some distance away sounded a lively march.
"Stand!" said Miss Mason. "Margaret, you may lead the line. Come
here." Meg stood quietly.
"Margaret Blossom!" and this time Miss Mason's voice sounded
impatient. "Is the child dreaming? You're holding back the whole
room."
Meg blushed and came forward hastily. To tell the truth, she had not
realized that Miss Mason was speaking to her--the unfamiliar
"Margaret" bewildered her.
"Take your place here," commanded Miss Mason, pushing her gently into
a place in the doorway. "And when you see the last child leave that
room opposite, wheel in after her and follow to the auditorium."
Meg looked around for Bobby. He was near the end of the long line that
had formed around the sides of the room, and when he caught his
sister's eye he grinned and nodded encouragingly to her.
"You'll do all right," he seemed to say.