She was presently conscious, however, that something unusual was going on, and on looking up, found the eyes of the pupils fastened on “Dodd.”  She ran down to his desk, hoping to find the beans in order.  But alas for human expectations!  We are all so often doomed to disappointment!  Not a bean was to be seen, and “Dodd” hung his head.

Miss Stone reached for his hands, thinking he was hiding them there; but his hands were empty.  She tried his pockets.  They yielded ample returns of such things as boys’ pockets are wont to contain, but no beans appeared.

Miss Stone was alarmed, and she almost trembled as she asked: 

“‘Dodd,’ where are the beans?”

The boy did not look up, but with a kind of suppressed chuckle, he muttered, “I’ve eat ’em all up!”

CHAPTER IV.

For some cause or other Miss Stone and “Dodd” did not get on well together as their acquaintance progressed.  The boy was impulsive, saucy, rude, and generally outrageous, in more ways than can be told or even dreamed of by any one but a primary teacher who has become familiar with the species.

Miss Stone had no natural tact as a teacher, no gift of God in this direction, no intuition, which is worth more than all precepts and maxims combined.  She knew how to work by rule, as so many teachers do, but beyond this she had little ability.  This to her credit, however:  she did, ultimately, labor hard with the boy, and tried her best to do something with him, or for him, or by him, but all to little purpose.

It seemed to be “Dodd’s” special mission to knock in the head the pet theories of this hand-made school-ma’am.  She had him up to read on the afternoon of the first day of his attendance at school.  Being but six years of age, and having just entered school, it was proper, according to the regulations, that he should enter the Chart Class.  So to the Chart Class he went.

The word for the class that day was “girl,” and the lesson proceeded after the usual manner of those who hold to this method of teaching children to read.

A little girl was placed upon the platform (the prettiest little girl in the class, to be sure), and the pupils were asked to tell what they saw.  They all answered in concert, “a girl;” and it is to be hoped that this answer, thus given, was duly evolved from their inner consciousness by a method fully in harmony with the principles of thought-development, as laid down in the books, and by Miss Stone’s preceptors.  A picture girl was then displayed upon a card-board which hung against the wall.  There were many of these card-boards in the room, all made by a book-concern that had some faith and a good deal of money invested in this particular way of teaching reading—­all of which, I am sure, is well enough, but the fact, probably, ought to be mentioned just here, as it is.