Time after time she raised her head to call her mother and show her what she had done, then changed her mind.  She had always found it wiser not to call attention to herself.  But the most difficult work of all was yet to come:  the building up of the town on both sides of the river.  It meant much shifting about of stones and bits of glass.  The sheriff’s house wanted to crowd out the merchant’s shop; there was no room for the judge’s house next door to the doctor’s.  There were the church and the parsonage, the drug-store and post-office, the peasant homesteads, with their barns and outhouses, the inn, the hunter’s lodge, the telegraph station.  To remember everything was no small task!

Finally, the whole town of white and red houses stood embedded in green.  Now there was only one thing left:  she had worked hard to get everything else done so as to begin on the schoolhouse.  She wanted plenty of space for the school, which was to be built on the riverside, and must have a big yard, with a flagpole right in the middle of the lawn.

She had saved all her best blocks for the schoolhouse.  Now she wondered how she had best go about it.  She wanted it to be just like their school, with a big classroom on the ground floor and another upstairs; then there was the kitchen and also the big room where she and her parents lived.  But all that would take a good while.  “They won’t leave me in peace long enough,” she said to herself.

Just then footsteps were heard in the entry; some one was stamping off snow.  In a twinkling she went ahead with her building.  “Here comes the parson to chat with father and mother,” she thought.  Now she would have the whole evening to herself.  And with renewed courage she began to lay the foundation of a schoolhouse as big as half the parish.

Her mother, who had also heard the steps in the hall, got up quickly and drew an old armchair up to the fireplace.  Then turning to her husband, she said:  “Shall you tell him about it to-night?”

“Yes,” answered the schoolmaster, “as soon as I can get round to it.”

Presently the pastor came in, half frozen and glad to be in a warm room where he could sit by an open fire.  He was very talkative, as usual.  It would be hard to find a more likable man than the parson when he came in of an evening to chat about all sorts of things, big and little.  He spoke with such ease and assurance of everything pertaining to this world, that one could scarcely believe that he and the dull preacher were one and the same person.  But if you happened to speak to him about spiritual things he grew red in the face, began fishing for words, and never said anything that was convincing, unless he chanced to mention that “God governs wisely.”

When the parson had settled himself comfortably, the schoolmaster suddenly turned to him and said in a cheery tone: 

“Now I must tell you the news:  I’m going to build a mission house.”