CHAPTER XVI.

THE SCHOOL-MISTRESS.

In the old brown school-house, overshadowed by apple-trees and sheltered on the west by a long steep hill, where the acorns and wild grapes grew, Mary Howard taught her little flock of twenty-five, coaxing some, urging others, and teaching them all by her kind words and winsome ways to love her as they had never before loved an instructor.

When first she was proposed as a teacher in Rice Corner, Widow Perkins, and a few others who had no children to send, held up their hands in amazement, wondering “what the world was comin’ to, and if the committee man, Mr. Knight, s’posed they was goin’ to be rid over rough-shod by a town pauper; but she couldn’t get a stifficut, for the Orthodox minister wouldn’t give her one; and if he did, the Unitarian minister wouldn’t!”

Accordingly, when it was known that the ordeal had been passed, and that Mary had in her possession a piece of paper about three inches square, authorizing her to teach a common district school, this worthy conclave concluded that “either every body had lost their senses, or else Miss Mason, who was present at the examination, had sat by and whispered in her ear the answers to all hard questions.”  “In all my born days I never seen any thing like it,” said the widow, as she distributed her green tea, sweetened with brown sugar, to a party of ladies, which she was entertaining “But you’ll see, she won’t keep her time more’n half out.—­Sally Ann, pass them nutcakes.—­Nobody’s goin’ to send their children to a pauper.  There’s Miss Bradley says she’ll take her’n out the first time they get licked.—­Have some more sass, Miss Dodge.  I want it eat up, for I believe it’s a workin’,—­but I telled her that warn’t the trouble; Mary’s too softly to hurt a miskeeter.  And so young too.  It’s government she’ll lack in.—­If any body’ll have a piece of this dried apple pie, I’ll cut it.”

Of course, nobody wanted a piece, and one of the ladies, continuing the conversation, said she supposed Mary would of course board with Mrs. Mason.  The tea-pot lid, which chanced to be off, went on with a jerk, and with the air of a much injured woman the widow replied:  “Wall, I can tell her this much, it’s no desirable job to board the school-marm, though any body can see that’s all made her so anxious for Mary to have the school.  She’s short on’t, and wants a little money.  Do any on you know how much she charges?”

Nobody knew, but a good many “guessed she didn’t charge any thing,” and the widow, rising from the table and telling Sally Ann to “rense the sass dishes, and pour it in the vinegar bottle,” led her guests back to the best room, saying, “a dollar and ninepence (her usual price) was next to nothing, but she’d warrant Miss Mason had more’n that”