Lem had a foolish, apologetic grin with which he always used to respond to these personalities, hanging his head to one side and opening and shutting his big hands nervously.

The tumble-down, two-roomed house in which the Warrens lived was across the road from the schoolhouse, and Mrs. Warren’s voice was penetrating.  Lem was accepted throughout his school-life at the home estimate.  The ugly, overgrown boy, clad in cast-off, misfit clothing was allowed to play with the other children only on condition that he perform all the hard, uninteresting parts of any game.  Inside the schoolroom it was the same.

He never learned to shut his mouth, and his speech was always halting and indistinct, so that he not only did not recite well in class, but was never in one of the school entertainments.  He chopped the wood and brought it in, swept the floor and made the fires, and then listened in grinning, silent admiration while the others, arrayed in their best, spoke pieces and sang songs.

He was not “smart at his books” and indeed did not learn even to read very fluently.  This may have been partly because the only books he ever saw were old school books, the use of which was given him free on account of his mother’s poverty.  He was not allowed, of course to take them from the schoolroom.  But if he was not good at book-learning he was not without accomplishments.  He early grew large for his age, and strong from much chopping of wood and drawing of water for his mother’s washings, and he was the best swimmer of all those who bathed in the cold, swift mountain stream which rushes near the schoolhouse.  The chief consequence of this expertness was that in the summer he was forced to teach each succeeding generation of little boys to swim and dive.  They tyrannized over him unmercifully—­as, in fact, everyone did.

Nothing made his mother more furious than such an exhibition of what she called “Lem’s meachin’ness.”  “Ain’t you got no stand-up in ye?” she was wont to exhort him angrily.  “If you don’t look out for yourself in this world, you needn’t think anybody else is gunto!”

The instructions in ethics he received at her hands were the only ones he ever knew, for, up to his fourteenth year, he never had clothes respectable enough to wear to church, and after that he had other things to think of.  Fourteen years is what we call in our State “over school age.”  It was a date to which Mrs. Warren had looked forward with eagerness.  After that, the long, unprofitable months of enforced schooling would be over, Lem would be earning steady wages, and she could sit back and “live decent.”

It seemed to her more than she could bear, that, almost upon her son’s birthday, she was stricken down with paralysis.  It was the first calamity for which she could not hold her marriage responsible, and her bitterness thereupon extended itself to fate in general.  She cannot have been a cheerful house-mate during the next ten years, when Lem was growing silently to manhood.