MARY JAY.
Besides Lucy’s studies at home, she went to school, where she had
other studies to attend to. The school was a small one, including the
children of only one or two families, and was kept in a room which
opened into a large and beautiful garden, as is more fully described
in the book called LUCY’S STORIES. To go to this school, the children
went through a gate on the street, and then, passing through a green
alley, they went around a corner, with trees, flowers, and shrubbery on
each side, to the garden, and there, up stairs, was the school-room.
There were not many children there. But, besides the teacher, there was
a girl about fifteen, whom the children generally called Mary Jay. She
could not walk very well, for she was very lame; but her countenance
had a very mild and beautiful expression, and she was always very kind
to the children. She used to read them stories out of a great book of
stories, which she had written, and which she called the Morocco Book.
The reason why Mary Jay went to the school, was because she wanted to
learn to be a teacher herself; and all the children thought that she
would make a very excellent teacher. For she often heard the scholars
recite their lessons, and explained their difficulties; and the
children liked to go to her very much. She was very gentle and kind,
and yet she always made them obey. In fact, they liked to obey. One
day, when they were going home from school, Lucy said to her,--
“When are you going to have a school of your own, Mary Jay?”
“Why?” said Mary Jay; “why do you wish to know?”
“Because,” said Lucy, “I mean to come and be one of your scholars.”
“Well,” said Mary Jay, “the school which we go to now, isn’t going to
be kept but two or three weeks longer, and then you may come to the
house where I live, and be my scholar.”
“I don’t know where the house is that you live in,” said Lucy.
“You know the road that leads to the mill,” said Mary Jay.
“Yes,” said Lucy.
“And do you remember a guide-post, at the foot of a hill, fastened to a
great tree?”
“Yes,” said Lucy, “with bridge and two mills written on it.”
“Two _miles_,” said Mary Jay, “not _mills_. It says that to the bridge
it is two miles. Did you think it was mills?”
“Yes,” replied Lucy; “I thought it meant that that road led to a place
where there was a bridge and two mills.”
“O no,” said Mary Jay, laughing. “It means that it is two miles to the
bridge. The house that I live in, is about a half a mile along that
road.”
As Mary Jay said this, they reached the place where the road to the
house, which Lucy lived in, turned away from the road which Mary Jay
was to take. So Lucy bade her good bye; and Mary Jay, after resting a
moment upon her crutch, looking at Lucy as she walked along, turned
away into her own road, and Lucy saw her no more.
That evening, however, Lucy told her mother what Mary Jay had said.
Her mother inquired about it, and found that it was true that the
school where Lucy had been admitted was to be closed in a few weeks,
because the family where it had been kept were going away, and it
wasn’t to be opened again until the next spring. But there were to be
three more months of pleasant weather; and so Lucy’s mother went to see
Mary Jay, and made an arrangement with her to take Lucy for a scholar.
Accordingly, a few days after this, Lucy set off, one morning, with
Royal to guide her, to go to Mary Jay’s house, to begin at her new
school. They walked along very pleasantly together, Royal carrying
Lucy’s slate and book for her, in a green satchel. When they came to
the guide-board, Lucy stopped to examine it more particularly. She
found it was _miles_, not _mills_.
“You might have known,” said Royal, “by there being no _and_. If it had
meant two mills, it would have been, bridge _and_ two mills.”
“Then it means,” said Lucy, “that it is two miles to the bridge down
this road.”
“Yes,” said Royal.
“How far is two miles?” asked Lucy.
“O, it isn’t very far,” said Royal. “I can walk two miles easily
enough.”
“I should like to see the bridge,” said Lucy.
“Yes,” said Royal. “Some day we will take a walk down and see it.”
So Royal and Lucy walked on. After a time, the road turned a little,
coming round a pretty green hill covered with trees; and on the other
side of it, there came into view a small farm-house, painted white,
with a garden on one side, and a few small sheds and barns upon the
other. Between the house and the garden there was a little gate, and a
path leading up to a door in the end of the house; and there was quite
a pleasant little grass yard in front of the door, with the garden gate
on the opposite side of it.
“There,” said Royal, “that is Mary Jay’s house.”
“Is that it?” said Lucy; “what a pleasant house! Do you think she will
let me go in that garden?”
“No,” said Royal, “not she.”
“Why not?” said Lucy.
“O, because you’d pull up the flowers, and trample on the beds. They
don’t let children go in such pretty gardens as that.”
“O Royal,” said Lucy, “I shouldn’t trample on the beds, I am sure. I
should be very careful.”
“Well,” replied Royal, “you’ll see whether she’ll let you go in her
garden. But now you can find your way to the door, and I am going back.”
“No, Royal,” said Lucy; “you must come and knock for me.”
“O no,” replied Royal; “you must knock for yourself.”
“I can’t knock hard enough,” said Lucy; “besides, I am afraid.”
Royal only laughed at Lucy’s fears, and said he only came to show her
the way, and not to knock for her. But he did wrong. He ought to have
been willing to have gone up to the door with her, since she wished it;
but he would not.
He, however, finally consented to remain where he was, to watch and see
whether she got in safely.
So Lucy took her satchel and walked along, while Royal sat down upon a
stone by the roadside, to watch her progress.
There was a little gate next to the street, which Lucy would have to
pass through in going up to the door. There were two large lilac bushes
hanging over the gate, one on each side. When she came to it, she found
it fastened by a kind of wooden latch; and at first she did not know
how to open it. She turned around, and beckoned to Royal to come and
help her; but Royal sat still. He thought that she might have climbed
over, if she couldn’t open the gate.
There was another large gate beyond the house, which seemed to lead
from the street into a yard, where the little barns and sheds were; and
Lucy had a great mind to go in there, for the large gate was open. But
she was afraid that there might be some cows in there; and besides, she
did not know that there was any door leading into the house around that
way; so she tried once more to open the gate. This time she succeeded;
the gate came open, and Lucy, much relieved, went through, and shut it
after her.
She walked along the path, toward the door. Before the door there was a
large stone step, of irregular form, but smooth upon the top. There was
a rose-bush on each side of the step. One of the rose-bushes was very
large. There were apple-trees in the garden, and Lucy thought she saw a
bird’s nest on one of them.
Lucy knocked gently and timidly at the door; but nobody heard her. Then
she knocked again, a little louder. She listened, and presently she
thought she heard somebody coming. A moment after, the door opened, and
a little girl, who yet seemed to be considerably older than she was
herself, appeared. She smiled when she saw Lucy, as if she knew her,
but did not speak. She opened the door wide, and Lucy went in.
Then Royal, who had been all this time sitting upon the stone by the
roadside, watching Lucy’s motions, as soon as he saw that Lucy had gone
in, and that the door was shut, and that there was nothing more for him
to do, got up from his seat, and walked away towards home.
The girl who had opened the door for Lucy, conducted her along through
a kind of sitting-room, into a little bed-room, where Lucy found Mary
Jay sitting at a window at work.
“Ah! Lucy,” said Mary Jay, “I am glad to see you; how did you find your
way?”
“Royal showed me,” said Lucy.
“I expected that Royal would show you the way; but where is he?”
“He did not come quite here,” said Lucy, “but stopped out in the road;
and now I suppose that he has gone home.”
“O, I am sorry that he didn’t come in. He would have liked to see our
bird’s nest.”
“Have you got a bird’s nest?” said Lucy.
“Yes,” said Mary Jay, “with three young birds in it. And there is a
little ladder, so that we can climb up very easily and see it. But you
may take off your bonnet and put it away. You’ll find a nail to hang it
upon in that closet.”
Mary Jay pointed to a closet door, which Lucy opened, and found there
two nails, driven on purpose for her, low enough for her to reach. She
put her bonnet upon one, and hung her satchel upon the other, after
having taken out her book and slate. Then Lucy went back to Mary Jay.
“There,” said Mary Jay, “look there, and see what a table I have
prepared for you.”
Lucy looked where Mary Jay pointed. There were two chairs placed near
the window, with a board passing across from one chair to the other.
The board was pretty wide, but not very long. It was smooth, and it
looked very new. One end of the board rested upon one chair, and the
other end upon the other chair, so that it made a sort of table. There
was a small chair with a seat made of a kind of basket work, before
this table. Lucy knew at once that this little chair was for her.
“Is that my table?” said Lucy.
“Yes,” said Mary Jay, “or desk; you may call it your desk, if you
please.”
Lucy sat down at her desk, and she said she liked it very much. She put
her book and slate before her, and found that the board was just high
enough for her.
“Now,” continued Mary Jay, “that will be your place to study; but the
place to keep your books after you have done studying is on a shelf in
the closet. You may go and see if you can find it.”
So Lucy went to the closet again. She found a small shelf there, pretty
low, so that she could not only reach it, to put things on and take
them off, but she could see all over it.
There was an inkstand upon this shelf, and a ruler and a pencil.
“Whose inkstand, and ruler, and pencil, are these, Mary Jay, on my
shelf?” said Lucy.
“They are yours,” said Mary Jay.
“I don’t suppose I ought to call you Mary Jay,” said Lucy, “now you are
my teacher.”
“Yes,” said Mary Jay, “call me by that name, just as you always have
done.”
“Am I going to write with pen and ink?” said Lucy.
“Yes,” said Mary Jay.
“But I don’t know how to write with pen and ink,” said Lucy.
“That’s the very reason why I got them for you, so that you might
learn. Children don’t come to school to do what they know how to do
already.”
“Well,” said Lucy.
So Lucy came away from her closet, and sat down before her desk.
“What am I going to learn first?”
“Why, the first thing I want you to learn, is to go alone a little.”
“To go alone?” repeated Lucy.
“Yes,” replied Mary Jay, “intellectually.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that,” said Lucy.
“Why, you know, when children are very little, they cannot walk at all
without somebody to take hold of their hands and lead them. After a
while, they learn to go alone. Now, when they first come to school, it
is just so with their progress in study. They can’t go alone at all.
The teacher has to lead them all the way. After a time, they get along
a little way, so that they can study by themselves a quarter of an
hour, or half an hour, and, by and by, an hour, without any help; and
this is what I call going alone. Now, when a scholar gets so as to go
alone a little in her studies, it is a great deal easier to teach her.
“Now,” continued Mary Jay, “my plan is for you to study half an hour
by yourself, if I can only contrive lessons which you can understand
without help for so long a time; and that is what I call going alone.”
“Well,” said Lucy, “I will try.”
“Now,” added Mary Jay, “your first lesson shall be to make figures on
your slate. I will set you a copy.”
So Mary Jay took Lucy’s slate, and, with the ruler and the slate
pencil, she ruled a line along the top of it, and then made a number
of figures, very neatly and carefully, for Lucy to copy. She told Lucy
to take the ruler, and sit down at her desk, and rule another line,
and then to make some figures exactly like the copy, and then to rule
another line, and so on down the slate.
“I want to see,” said Mary Jay, “if you can keep yourself busy doing
that, without saying a word to me, for half an hour. That will be going
alone. When the half-hour is out, I will let you have a recess.”
Lucy tried, but she did not succeed very well. She could not rule her
lines straight, and she wanted to come and show them to Mary Jay. Then,
whenever she made a bad figure, she would sigh, and exclaim, “O dear
me! how hard it is!” If she made a good figure, she wanted to jump up,
and come and show it to Mary Jay. When the time was about half out, she
was very thirsty, and she wanted Mary Jay to go out and get her a drink
of water. In reply to all her questions and complaints, Mary Jay always
told her to wait until the half-hour was out, and she would attend to
her. Even for the drink of water, she told her that she must wait until
the recess.
When the time which Mary Jay had assigned to Lucy had expired, she said
to her,--
“Now, Lucy, it is time for recess. So you may leave your slate upon the
desk, and go out and play a little while.”
“Well,” said Lucy, “only may I first come and show you what I have
done?”
“No,” said Mary Jay, “not till after the recess.”
“Then shall I go and put my slate away first, upon my shelf?”
“No,” said Mary Jay, “not till after recess. When you get any
directions from your teacher, you must obey them exactly.”
“Where shall I go to play?” said Lucy.
“O, you may go out into the yard and garden, and see what you can find
to amuse yourself with.”