“I went into the school house early Monday mornin’ an’ built a good fire in the new stove.  When it was safe to leave it I went into the next house an’ watched the scholars arrive.  The lady was a widder with one great unruly boy in the school, an’ she was glad to give me a winder to look out of.  It was a turrible cold day, an’ when ’t was ten minutes to nine an’ the school room was full I walked in as big as Cuffy.  There was five rows of big boys an’ girls in the back, all lookin’ as if they was loaded for bear, an’ they graded down to little ones down in front, all of ’em hitchin’ to an’ fro in their seats an’ snickerin’.  I give ’em a surprise to begin with, for I locked the door when I come in, an’ put the key in my pocket, cool as a cucumber.

“I never said a word, an’ they never moved their eyes away from me.  I took off my fur cap, then my mittens, then my overcoat, an’ laid ’em in the chair behind my desk.  Then my undercoat come off, then my necktie an’ collar, an’ by that time the big girls begun to look nervous; they ‘d been used to addressin’, but not undressin’, in the school room.  Then I wound my galluses round my waist an’ tied ’em; then I says, clear an’ loud:’  I’m your new teacher!  I’m goin’ to have a hundred dollars for teachin’ out this school, an’ I intend to teach it out an’ git my money.  It’s five minutes to nine.  I give you just that long to tell me what you’re goin’ to do about it.  Come on now!’ I says, ‘all o’ you big boys, if you’re comin’, an’ we’ll settle this thing here an’ now.  We can’t hev fights an’ lessons mixed up together every day, more ’n ’s necessary; better decide right now who’s boss o’ this school.  The stove’s new an’ I’m new, an’ we call’ate to stay here till the end o’ the term!’

“Well, sir, not one o’ that gang stirred in their seats, an’ not one of ’em yipped!  I taught school in my shirt sleeves consid’able the first week, but I never hed to afterwards.  I was a little mite weak on mathematics, an’ the older boys an’ girls hed to depend on their study books for their information,—­they never got any from me,—­but every scholar in that Digby school got a hundred per cent in deportment the nine weeks I taught there!”

XXX

THE INGLENOOK

It was a wild Friday night in March, after days of blustering storms and drifting snow.  Beulah was clad in royal ermine; not only clad, indeed, but nearly buried in it.  The timbers of the Yellow House creaked, and the wreaths of snow blew against the windows and lodged there.  King Frost was abroad, nipping toes and ears, hanging icicles on the eaves of houses, and decorating the forest trees with glittering pendants.  The wind howled in the sitting room chimney, but in front of the great back-log the bed of live coals glowed red and the flames danced high, casting flickering shadows on the children’s faces.  It is possible to bring up a family by steam heat, and it is often necessary, but nobody can claim that it is either so simple or so delightful as by an open fire!