The white drifts of winter grew gray and then turned black under the
March sun that melted them down and drained off their soluble parts,
leaving only a residuum of mud along fences and hedges where, a few
days before had been shapely piles of snow. April came with its
deluges of rain that washed the earth clean and carried off the
riffraff of the previous season, making ready for another and more
bountiful harvest. What a thrifty housekeeper nature is!
"Dodd" still stayed away from school, and through slush and mud and
drenching rain worked like a little man. The fact is, he had secretly
made up his mind never to go to school again, a conclusion that it is
no particular wonder he had reached after his experience with Amos
Waughops, as just chronicled. He observed that his ready work met the
approval of both of his parents and grandparents, and he quietly hoped
that they would let him alone and permit him to stay out of school so
long as he continued to make himself useful on the farm.
He said nothing about this, however. His training had not been such as
to inspire confidence between himself and his parents, and already he
had begun to think, plan and act for himself, unaided by their counsel
or advice.
Nor is it an uncommon thing for many well-meaning and well-wishing
parents thus to isolate their children from the holy of holies of their
hearts and force them out into the desert of their own inexperience, to
die there alone, or compel them to seek help from the heathenish crowd
that is always camped around about within easy reach of such wandering
ones.
How is it in your own household, beloved? Look it up, if you dare to!
But one day when the boy and his grandfather were burning corn stalks
in the field, making ready for plowing, the old gentleman broached the
subject of school to "Dodd," and, by dint of much persuasion, gained
his reluctant consent to brave once more the trials of the school room
and out himself again under the guidance of a teacher. A week later
"Dodd" made his third venture in the legalized lottery of licensed
school teachers. He had drawn blanks twice and he was more than
suspicious of the enterprise. He had no faith in it whatever.
But the counterfeit always presupposes the genuine, and the same system
that includes such specimens as Miss Stone and Amos Waughops in its
wide embrace, enfolds also thousands who are the worthiest of men and
women. After all, Virtue is on top in this mundane sphere; if it were
not so, this old planet would have gone to ruin long ago. Let us look
up!
Amy Kelly bad been awarded the contract to teach the "spring and summer
school" in district four, Dundas township, on this particular year, and
with timid, anxious steps she had walked six miles the first Monday
morning of the term to take charge of her pupils.
It was her first school, and she was worried about it, as folks usually
are about almost anything that is new to them and concerning which they
are conscientious. Some people never are worried, though. They are
born in a don't-care fashion; they absorb the principle from the first,
and it never wears out. Others are anxious to begin with, but grow
careless as they grow familiar with their surroundings. Others are
always anxious. They never do so well that they do not hope to do
better next time, and they would almost decline heaven if they felt it
to be a place where they must forever remain as they are.
Amy Kelly was of the pattern last described.
As her name indicates, she was Irish. Her father and mother came from
"the old sod" before she was born, and they had won their way up from
working at day's wages to being the owners of a snug farm, which was
well stocked and thriftily kept. They spoke their native tongue to
each other when in the secret recesses of their home, and talked with
their children and the neighbors in a brogue so deeply accented that it
would be useless for them ever to claim to be "Scotch-Irish," had they
wished to make such pretensions--which they did not.
Indeed, these people would have been called "very Irish" by the average
observer. The old gentleman had red hair and only allowed his beard to
grow about his neck, under his chin; wore a strap around his wrist, and
smoked a short clay pipe. His wife was stout and somewhat red-faced,
and in summer a stray caller would be likely to find her at work in
petticoat and short gown, her rather large feet and ankles innocent of
shoes or stockings. But she was a good housekeeper, for all of these
things. No better butter than hers ever came to market, and her heart
was warm and true, even if it did beat under a rather full form and
beneath a coarsely woven garment. She had a cheery voice and a
pleasant disposition, loved her husband devotedly, was proud of her
family, both on account of its numbers and the health, brightness and
good looks of her progeny; and her good deeds toward her neighbors,
together with her general thrift and good nature, made her a great
favorite in all the country-side.
Such was the family from which this young school miss was sprung.
The girl was just eighteen when she went to her new work. She had
received most of her education in a similar school, in a neighboring
district, where she had always led her classes, but had spent two
winters in a State Normal School. She was a trim body, compactly
built, had black hair and eyes, and a fresh, rosy complexion that is so
characteristic of her class. She could ride a fractious horse, milk,
sew, knit and cook, and had followed the plow more than one day; while
during harvest and corn-husking she had many a time "made a hand."
From this cause she was strong and well knit in all her frame, a
perfect picture of young womanly health and rustic beauty. She had a
soft, sweet voice and spoke without the slightest trace of a brogue, so
surely does a single generation Americanize such people, and was very
modest and retiring in her manners. Like her parents, she was a devout
Catholic.
It was hardly seven o'clock on an April morning when this girl unlocked
the schoolhouse door at the end of her long walk and let the fresh
spring breeze blow into its interior. It was a small building, with
one door, opening to the south, and six windows, two on each of three
sides, all darkened with tight board shutters. She threw all these
open and raised the sashes for a fuller sweep of the air, for the
school-roomish smell was stifling to one accustomed to wholesome,
out-of-door air. As soon as she felt free to take a long breath she
began to examine the room in which she was to go to work.
The floor was filthy beyond description. There was a hill of dry
tobacco quids on the floor under the "teacher's desk," historical
relics of the reign of Amos Waughops, and equally disgusting debris
scattered all over the room, special contributions of the free American
citizens of "deestrick four," who had held an election in the house a
few days previous. Moreover, the desks were, many of them, smeared
with tallow on the top, patches of grease that told of debating
societies, singing schools, and revival meetings of the winter
before--blots that Amos had never thought of trying to remove. The
stovepipe had parted and hung trembling from the ceiling, while the
small blackboard in the corner was scrawled all over with rude and
indecent figures, the handiwork of the electors aforesaid. Pray do not
think I have painted this picture in too high colors, you fastidious
ones, who dwell in fine houses and live in towns and have never seen
sights like these. I have not. There are thousands of just such
schoolhouses in this and every other State in the Union, that open on
an April morning just as this one did. It is a great pity that it is
so, but so it is. I wish it were otherwise. But it isn't, and I
sometimes wonder if it ever will be!
Amy took in the situation at a glance and resolved what to do
forthwith. There was a house a quarter of a mile down the road, and
thither she bent her sprightly steps. Fifteen minutes later she
returned with two buckets, a scrubbing brush, a broom and a mop. She
rolled up her sleeves, disclosing an arm that you well might envy, my
dear, you who delight in the display of such charms in parlor or ball
room--charms which no cosmetics can rival--turned up the skirt of her
neat calico dress, and pinned it behind her supple waist, donned a
large coarse apron that she had borrowed with the rest of her outfit,
and was ready for work.
She righted the stovepipe--without swearing--and built a brisk fire.
Then she began to scrub.
She had worked an hour, when she heard a voice and footsteps, and a
moment later "Dodd" and the young Weavers darkened the door.
"Good morning!" she exclaimed, pausing a moment in her work and
brushing back her hair with her arm, as she raised her flushed face,
which was covered with a dew of perspiration; "you had better put your
dinner pail out by the well, and then you can play in the yard a while,
till I get the house cleaned up a little," and again she turned to her
scrubbing.
"Dodd" stood in the door and looked at the girl in amazement. This was
a new phase of the school teacher, sure enough. He thought of Miss
Stone and wondered bow she would look, down on her knees and scrubbing,
as this girl was. He stood in the door for some minutes, till,
finally, Amy arose and started to carry out a pail of dirty water and
bring in a fresh one in its place. As she neared the boy he stepped to
one side and let her pass, looking up into her face as she went by.
She returned his glance and smiled, and "Dodd" answered back with
something akin to a blush, though the expression was such a stranger to
his face that the superficial observer might have failed correctly to
classify it at first sight.
Amy threw the water out, far into the road, and went to the well,
"Dodd" saw where she was going, and, running to the pump, he seized the
handle and began pumping vigorously.
"Thank you," said Amy, when the bucket was filled; "I hardly think you
can carry the pail so full," she added, as "Dodd" proceeded to grasp
the pail with both hands to carry the water to the house. "Better let
me help you," she continued, taking hold of one side. "There, so; now
we'll carry it together," and, one on either side of the bucket, they
went into the house again.
It may safely be said that the brief space of time occupied in going
from the well to the school room, carrying half of that pail of water,
was the proudest moment yet experienced by the hero of this story. For
the first time in his life the spirit of chivalry arose in his bosom,
and though the act he performed in response to its promptings was a
very simple and menial one, yet it was enough to stir all the pulses of
his boyish nature and to make of him, for the time being, such a little
man as he had never before dreamed of being. It is William Shakspeare,
I think, who has it--
"From woman's eyes this doctrine I derive,
They are the books, the grounds, the academies,
From which doth spring the true Promethean fire!"
or words to that effect. "Dodd," however, knew nothing of the great
poet, but he did know that something in the kindly eyes of this honest
Irish girl made him want to do everything he could for her, and help
her in every possible way.
The most gallant knight could rise to no more sublime condition!
When the pail was set down and Amy was once more on her knees, "Dodd"
began to look about to see what else he could do. The girl took note
of this, and soon set him to work. She had him go through all the
desks and clean out all the places where the books were kept. When
this was done she gave him something else to do, and to all her
biddings he was most obedient. He worked with a will, and carefully,
doing just as he was told to do, and feeling that much of the success
of the enterprise on foot depended on his own exertions. It is such
work as this that counts here below, and transforms the unfixed
elements of human nature into character as enduring as the everlasting
bills. It is a little difficult to realize this fact, just at the time
of its happening, but the after years show the truth of the statement.
The evolution that took place in "Dodd's" soul that morning was a
measurable quantity.
By noon the dirty, not to say nasty, school house was clean and in
order, and after dinner Amy Kelly began to arrange her classes and
prepare for school work. During the forenoon she had learned the names
of many of her pupils from their conversations with each other, and had
put herself on such terms with them that the work of organizing her
classes was easily accomplished, without annoyance to herself or the
children. By four o'clock she had her work laid out for the entire
school, and the children went home happy, rejoicing in the newly found
treasure of a school teacher in whom they delighted.
Amy knew little of many things that are well worth knowing in this
world, but she did know how to manage children and how to teach school.
She was a girl of resources. "Of such is the kingdom of heaven" among
school teachers.