Colonel Starbottle's Client

  THE NEW ASSISTANT AT PINE CLEARING SCHOOL.

  CHAPTER I.

  The schoolmistress of Pine Clearing was taking a last look around herschoolroom before leaving it for the day. She might have done so withpride, for the schoolroom was considered a marvel of architecturalelegance by the citizens, and even to the ordinary observer was apretty, villa-like structure, with an open cupola and overhanging roofof diamond-shaped shingles and a deep Elizabethan porch. But it wasthe monument of a fierce struggle between a newer civilization and abarbarism of the old days, which had resulted in the clearing away ofthe pines--and a few other things as incongruous to the new life and farless innocent, though no less sincere. It had cost the community fifteenthousand dollars, and the lives of two of its citizens.

  Happily there was no stain of this on the clean white walls, thebeautifully-written gilt texts, or the shining blackboard that hadoffered no record which could not be daily wiped away. And, certainly,the last person in the world to suggest any reminiscences of itsbelligerent foundation was the person of the schoolmistress. Mature,thin, precise,--not pretty enough to have excited Homeric feuds, nor yetso plain as to preclude certain soothing graces,--she was the widow ofa poor Congregational minister, and had been expressly imported fromSan Francisco to squarely mark the issue between the regenerate andunregenerate life. Low-voiced, gentlewomanly, with the pallor ofill-health perhaps unduly accented by her mourning, which was still cutmodishly enough to show off her spare but good figure, she wassupposed to represent the model of pious, scholastic refinement. TheOpposition--sullen in ditches and at the doors of saloons, or in thefields truculent as their own cattle--nevertheless had lowered theircrests and buttoned their coats over their revolutionary red shirts whenSHE went by.

  As she was stepping from the threshold, she was suddenly confronted bya brisk business-looking man, who was about to enter. "Just in time tocatch you, Mrs. Martin," he said hurriedly; then, quickly correcting hismanifest familiarity, he added: "I mean, I took the liberty of runningin here on my way to the stage office. That matter you spoke of isall arranged. I talked it over with the other trustees, wrote to SamBarstow, and he's agreeable, and has sent somebody up, and," he rapidlyconsulted his watch, "he ought to be here now; and I'm on my way to meethim with the other trustees."

  Mrs. Martin, who at once recognized her visitor as the Chairman ofthe School Board, received the abrupt information with the slighttremulousness, faint increase of color, and hurried breathing of anervous woman.

  "But," she said, "it was only a SUGGESTION of mine, Mr. Sperry; I reallyhave no right to ask--I had no idea"--

  "It's all right, ma'am,--never you mind. We put the case square toBarstow. We allowed that the school was getting too large for you totackle,--I mean, you know, to superintend single-handed; and that thesePike County boys they're running in on us are a little too big andsassy for a lady like you to lasso and throw down--I mean, to sortercontrol--don't you see? But, bless you, Sam Barstow saw it all in aminit! He just jumped at it. I've got his letter here--hold on"--hehastily produced a letter from his pocket, glanced ever it, suddenlyclosed it again with embarrassed quickness, yet not so quickly but thatthe woman's quicker eyes were caught, and nervously fascinated by theexpression "I'm d----d" in a large business hand--and said in awkwardhaste, "No matter about reading it now--keep you too long--but he'sagreed all right, you know. Must go now--they'll be waiting. Only Ithought I'd drop in a-passin', to keep you posted;" and, taking off hishat, he began to back from the porch.

  "Is--is--this gentleman who is to assist me--a--a mature professionalman--or a--graduate?" hesitated Mrs. Martin, with a faint smile.

  "Don't really know--I reckon Sam--Mr. Barstow--fixed that all right.Must really go now;" and, still holding his hat in his hand as a politecompromise for his undignified haste, he fairly ran off.

  Arrived at the stage office, he found the two other trustees awaitinghim, and the still more tardy stage-coach. One, a large, smooth-faced,portly man, was the Presbyterian minister; the other, of thinner andmore serious aspect, was a large mill-owner.

  "I presume," said the Rev. Mr. Peaseley, slowly, "that as our goodbrother Barstow, in the urgency of the occasion, has, to someextent, anticipated OUR functions in engaging this assistant, heis--a--a--satisfied with his capacity?"

  "Sam knows what he's about," said the mill-owner cheerfully, "and ashe's regularly buckled down to the work here, and will go his bottomdollar on it, you can safely leave things to him."

  "He certainly has exhibited great zeal," said the reverend gentlemanpatronizingly.

  "Zeal," echoed Sperry enthusiastically, "zeal? Why, he runs PineClearing as he runs his bank and his express company in Sacramento, andhe's as well posted as if he were here all the time. Why, look here;"he nudged the mill-owner secretly, and, as the minister's back wasmomentarily turned, pulled out the letter he had avoided reading to Mrs.Martin, and pointed to a paragraph. "I'll be d----d," said the writer,"but I'll have peace and quietness at Pine Clearing, if I have to wipeout or make over the whole Pike County gang. Draw on me for a piano ifyou think Mrs. Martin can work it. But don't say anything to Peaseleyfirst, or he'll want it changed for a harmonium, and that lets us infor psalm-singing till you can't rest. Mind! I don't object to Churchinfluence--it's a good hold!--but you must run IT with other thingsequal, and not let it run YOU. I've got the schoolhouse insured forthirty thousand dollars--special rates too."

  The mill-owner smiled. "Sam's head is level! But," he added, "he don'tsay much about the new assistant he's sending."

  "Only here," he says, "I reckon the man I send will do all round; forPike County has its claims as well as Boston."

  "What does that mean?" asked the mill-owner.

  "I reckon he means he don't want Pine Clearing to get too high-tonedany more than he wants it too low down. He's mighty square in hisaverages--is Sam."

  Here speculation was stopped by the rapid oncoming of the stage-coachin all the impotent fury of a belated arrival. "Had to go round byMontezuma to let off Jack Hill," curtly explained the driver, as heswung himself from the box, and entered the hotel bar-room in companywith the new expressman, who had evidently taken Hill's place on thebox-seat. Autocratically indifferent to further inquiry, he called outcheerfully: "Come along, boys, and hear this yer last new yarn about SamBarstow,--it's the biggest thing out." And in another moment the waitingcrowd, with glasses in their hands, were eagerly listening to therepetition of the "yarn" from the new expressman, to the apparentexclusion of other matters, mundane and practical.

  Thus debarred from information, the three trustees could only watchthe passengers as they descended, and try to identify their expectedstranger. But in vain: the bulk of the passengers they already knew, theothers were ordinary miners and laborers; there was no indication of thenew assistant among them. Pending further inquiry they were obligedto wait the conclusion of the expressman's humorous recital. This wasevidently a performance of some artistic merit, depending upon a capitalimitation of an Irishman, a German Jew, and another voice, which wasuniversally recognized and applauded as being "Sam's style all over!"But for the presence of the minister, Sperry and the mill-owner wouldhave joined the enthusiastic auditors, and inwardly regretted therespectable obligations of their official position.

  When the story-teller had concluded amidst a general call for moredrinks, Sperry approached the driver. The latter recognizing him, turnedto his companion carelessly, said, "Here's one of 'em," and was goingaway when Sperry stopped him.

  "We were expecting a young man."

  "Yes," said the driver, impatiently, "and there he is, I reckon."

  "We don't mean the new expressman," said the minister, smiling blandly,"but a young man who"--

  "THAT ain't no new expressman," returned the driver in scornfuldeprecation of his interlocutor's ignorance. "He only took Hill'splace from Montezuma. He's the new kid reviver and polisher for thatUniversity you're runnin' here. I say--you fellers oughter get him totell you that sto
ry of Sam Barstow and the Chinaman. It'd limber youfellers up to hear it."

  "I fear there's some extraordinary mistake here," said Mr. Peaseley,with a chilling Christian smile.

  "Not a bit of it. He's got a letter from Sam for one of ye. Yere,Charley--what's your name! Com yere. Yere's all yer three bosses waitingfor ye."

  And the supposed expressman and late narrator of amusing stories cameforward and presented his credentials as the assistant teacher of PineClearing.

  CHAPTER II.

  Even the practical Mr. Sperry was taken aback. The young man before himwas squarely built, with broad shoulders, and a certain air of muscularactivity. But his face, although good-humored, was remarkable foroffering not the slightest indication of studious preoccupation ormental training. A large mouth, light blue eyes, a square jaw, the otherfeatures being indistinctive--were immobile as a mask--except that,unlike a mask, they seemed to actually reflect the vacuity of the moodwithin, instead of concealing it. But as he saluted the trustees theyeach had the same feeling that even this expression was imported and notinstinctive. His face was clean-shaven, and his hair cut so short as tosuggest that a wig of some kind was necessary to give it characteristicor even ordinary human semblance. His manner, self-assured yet lackingreality, and his dress of respectable cut and material, yet worn as ifit did not belong to him, completed a picture as unlike a student orschoolmaster as could be possibly conceived.

  Yet there was the letter in Mr. Peaseley's hands from Barstow,introducing Mr. Charles Twing as the first assistant teacher in the PineClearing Free Academy!

  The three men looked hopelessly at each other. An air of fatiguedrighteousness and a desire to be spiritually at rest from other trialspervaded Mr. Peaseley. Whether or not the young man felt the evidentobjection he had raised, he assumed a careless position, with his backand elbows against the bar; but even the attitude was clearly not hisown.

  "Are you personally known to Mr. Barstow?" asked Sperry, with a slightbusiness asperity.

  "Yes."

  "That is--you are quite well acquainted with him?"

  "If you'd heard me gag his style a minute ago, so that everybody hereknew who it was, you'd say so."

  Mr. Peaseley's eyes sought the ceiling, and rested on the hanging lamp,as if nothing short of direct providential interference could meet theoccasion. Yet, as the eyes of his brother trustees were bent on himexpectantly, he nerved himself to say something.

  "I suppose, Mr.--Mr. Twing, you have properly understood the great--Imay say, very grave, intellectual, and moral responsibilities of thework you seek to undertake--and the necessity of supporting it byEXAMPLE, by practice, by personal influence both in the school and OUTOF IT. Sir, I presume, sir, you feel that you are fully competent toundertake this?"

  "I reckon HE does!"

  "WHO does?"

  "Sam Barstow, or he wouldn't have selected me. I presume" (with theslightest possible and almost instinctive imitation of the reverendgentleman's manner) "his head is considered level."

  Mr. Peaseley withdrew his eyes from the ceiling. "I have," he said tohis companions, with a pained smile, "an important choir meeting toattend this afternoon. I fear I must be excused." As he moved towardsthe door, the others formally following him, until out of the stranger'shearing, he added: "I wash my hands of this. After so wanton andunseemly an exhibition of utter incompetency, and even of understandingof the trust imposed upon him--upon US--MY conscience forbids me tointerfere further. But the real arbiter in this matter will be--thankHeaven!--the mistress herself. You have only to confront her at oncewith this man. HER decision will be speedy and final. For even Mr.Barstow will not dare to force so outrageous a character upon adelicate, refined woman, in a familiar and confidential capacity."

  "That's so," said Sperry eagerly; "she'll settle it. And, of course,"added the mill-owner, "that will leave us out of any difficulty withSam."

  The two men returned to the hapless stranger, relieved, yet constrainedby the sacrifice to which they felt they were leading him. It would benecessary, they said, to introduce him to his principal, Mrs. Martin,at once. They might still find her at the schoolhouse, distant but a fewsteps. They said little else, the stranger keeping up an ostentatiouswhistling, and becoming more and more incongruous, they thought, as theyneared the pretty schoolhouse. Here they DID find Mrs. Martin, who had,naturally, lingered after the interview with Sperry.

  She came forward to meet them, with the nervous shyness and slightlyfastidious hesitation that was her nature. They saw, or fanciedthey saw, the same surprise and disappointment they had themselvesexperienced pass over her sensitive face, as she looked at him; theyfelt that their vulgar charge appeared still more outrageous by contrastwith this delicate woman and her pretty, refined surroundings; but theysaw that HE enjoyed it, and was even--if such a word could be applied toso self-conscious a man--more at ease in her presence!

  "I reckon you and me will pull together very well, ma'am," he saidconfidently.

  They looked to see her turn her back upon him; faint, or burst outcrying; but she did neither, and only gazed at him quietly.

  "It's a mighty pretty place you've got here--and I like it, and if WEcan't run it, I don't know who can. Only just let me know WHAT you want,ma'am, and you can count on me every time."

  To their profound consternation Mrs. Martin smiled faintly.

  "It rests with YOU only, Mrs. Martin," said Sperry quickly andsignificantly. "It's YOUR say, you know; you're the only one to beconsidered or consulted here."

  "Only just say what you want me to do," continued Twing, apparentlyignoring the trustees; "pick out the style of job; give me a hint ortwo how to work it, or what you'd think would be the proper gag to fetch'em, and I'm there, ma'am. It may be new at first, but I'll get at thebusiness of it quick enough."

  Mrs. Martin smiled--this time quite perceptibly--with the leastlittle color in her cheeks and eyes. "Then you've had no experience inteaching?" she said.

  "Well no."

  "You are not a graduate of any college?"

  "Not much."

  The two trustees looked at each other. Even Mr. Peaseley had notconceived such a damning revelation.

  "Well," said Mrs. Martin slowly, "perhaps Mr. Twing had better COMEEARLY TOMORROW MORNING AND BEGIN."

  "Begin?" gasped Mr. Sperry in breathless astonishment.

  "Certainly," said Mrs. Martin in timid explanation. "If he is new to thework the sooner the better."

  Mr. Sperry could only gaze blankly at his brother official. Had theyheard aright? Was this the recklessness of nervous excitement in a womanof delicate health, or had the impostor cast some glamour upon her? Orwas she frightened of Sam Barstow and afraid to reject his candidate?The last thought was an inspiration. He drew her quickly aside. "Onemoment, Mrs. Martin! You said to me an hour ago that you didn't intendto have asked Mr. Barstow to send you an assistant. I hope that, merelybecause he HAS done so, you don't feel obliged to accept this managainst your better judgment?"

  "Oh no," said Mrs. Martin quietly.

  The case seemed hopeless. And Sperry had the miserable conviction thatby having insisted upon Mrs. Martin's judgment being final they hadestopped their own right to object. But how could they have foreseen herextraordinary taste? He, however, roused himself for a last appeal.

  "Mrs. Martin," he said in a lower voice, "I ought to tell you that theReverend Mr. Peaseley strongly doubts the competency of that young man."

  "Didn't Mr. Barstow make a selection at your request?" asked Mrs.Martin, with a faint little nervous cough.

  "Yes--but"--

  "Then his competency only concerns ME--and I don't see what Mr. Peaseleyhas to say about it."

  Could he believe his senses? There was a decided flush in the woman'spale face, and the first note of independence and asperity in her voice.

  That night, in the privacy of his conjugal chamber, Mr. Sperry relievedhis mind to another of the enigmatical sex,--the stout Southwesternpartner of his joys and troubles.
But the result was equallyunsatisfactory. "Well, Abner," said the lady, "I never could see, forall your men's praises of Mrs. Martin, what that feller can see in HERto like!"

  CHAPTER III.

  Mrs. Martin was early at the schoolhouse the next morning, yet not soearly but that she discovered that the new assistant had been therebefore her. This was shown in some rearrangement of the school seats andbenches. They were placed so as to form a horseshoe before her desk, andat the further extremity of this semicircle was a chair evidently forhimself. She was a little nettled at his premature action, althoughadmitting the utility of the change, but she was still more annoyedat his absence at such a moment. It was nearly the school hour whenhe appeared, to her surprise, marshaling a file of some of the smallerchildren whom he had evidently picked up en route, and who were, to hergreater surprise, apparently on the best of terms with him. "ThoughtI'd better rake 'em in, introduce myself to 'em, and get 'em to know mebefore school begins. Excuse me," he went on hastily, "but I've a lotmore coming up, and I'd better make myself square with them OUTSIDE."But Mrs. Martin had apparently developed a certain degree of stiffnesssince their evening's interview.

  "It seems to me quite as important, Mr. Twing," she said drily, "thatyou should first learn some of your own duties, which I came here earlyto teach you."

  "Not at all," he said cheerfully. "Today I take my seat, as I'vearranged it, you see, over there with them, and watch 'em go through themotions. One rehearsal's enough for ME. At the same time, I can chip inif necessary." And before she could reply he was out of the schoolhouseagain, hailing the new-comers. This was done with apparently suchdelight to the children and with some evidently imported expression intohis smooth mask-like face, that Mrs. Martin had to content herself withwatching him with equal curiosity. She was turning away with a suddensense of forgotten dignity, when a shout of joyous, childish laughterattracted her attention to the window. The new assistant, with half adozen small children on his square shoulders, walking with bent back andevery simulation of advanced senility, was evidently personating,with the assistance of astonishingly distorted features, the ogre of aChristmas pantomime. As his eye caught hers the expression vanished, themask-like face returned; he set the children down, and moved away. Andwhen school began, although he marshaled them triumphantly to the verydoor,--with what contortion of face or simulation of character she wasunable to guess,--after he had entered the schoolroom and taken his seatevery vestige of his previous facial aberration was gone, and only hisusual stolidity remained. In vain, as Mrs. Martin expected, the hundreddelighted little eyes before her dwelt at first eagerly and hopefullyupon his face, but, as she HAD NOT expected, recognizing from theblankness of his demeanor that the previous performance was intended forthem exclusively, the same eager eyes were presently dropped again upontheir books in simple imitation, as if he were one of themselves. Mrs.Martin breathed freely, and lessons began.

  Yet she was nervously conscious, meanwhile, of a more ill-omenedoccurrence. This was the non-arrival of several of her oldest pupils,notably, the refractory and incorrigible Pike County contingent to whomSperry had alluded. For the past few days they had hovered on the vergeof active insubordination, and had indulged in vague mutterings whichshe had resolutely determined not to hear. It was, therefore, with someinward trepidations, not entirely relieved by Twing's presence, that shesaw the three Mackinnons and the two Hardees slouch into the schoola full hour after the lessons had begun. They did not even excusethemselves, but were proceeding with a surly and ostentatious defianceto their seats, when Mrs. Martin was obliged to look up, and--as theeldest Hardee filed before her--to demand an explanation. The culpritaddressed--a dull, heavy-looking youth of nineteen--hesitated with anair of mingled doggedness and sheepishness, and then, without replying,nudged his companion. It was evidently a preconcerted signal ofrebellion, for the boy nudged stopped, and, turning a more intelligent,but equally dissatisfied, face upon the schoolmistress, begandeterminedly:--

  "Wot's our excuse for coming an hour late? Well, we ain't got none. WEdon't call it an hour late--WE don't. We call it the right time. We callit the right time for OUR lessons, for we don't allow to come here tosing hymns with babbies. We don't want to know 'where, oh where, are theHebrew children?' They ain't nothin' to us Americans. And we don't wantany more Daniels in the Lions' Den played off on us. We have enough of'em in Sunday-school. We ain't hankerin' much for grammar and dictionaryhogwash, and we don't want no Boston parts o' speech rung in on us thefirst thing in the mo'nin'. We ain't Boston--we're Pike County--WE are.We reckon to do our sums, and our figgerin', and our sale and barter,and our interest tables and weights and measures when the time comes,and our geograffy when it's on, and our readin' and writin' and theAmerican Constitution in reg'lar hours, and then we calkilate to gitup and git afore the po'try and the Boston airs and graces come round.That's our rights and what our fathers pay school taxes for, and we want'em."

  He stopped, looking less towards the schoolmistress than to hiscompanions, for whom perhaps, after the schoolboy fashion, this attitudewas taken. Mrs. Martin sat, quite white and self-contained, with hereyes fixed on the frayed rim of the rebel's straw hat which he stillkept on his head. Then she said quietly:--

  "Take off your hat, sir."

  The boy did not move.

  "He can't," said a voice cheerfully.

  It was the new assistant. The whole school faced rapidly towards him.The rebel leader and his followers, who had not noticed him before,stared at the interrupter, who did not, however, seem to exhibit any ofthe authority of office, but rather the comment and criticism of one ofthemselves. "Wot you mean?" asked the boy indignantly.

  "I mean you can't take off your hat because you've got some thingsstowed away in it you don't want seen," said Twing, with an immovableface.

  "Wot things?" exclaimed the boy angrily. Then suddenly recollectinghimself, he added, "Go along! You can't fool me! Think you'll make metake off my hat--don't you?"

  "Well," said Twing, advancing to the side of the rebel, "look herethen!" With a dexterous movement and a slight struggle from the boy, helifted the hat. A half-dozen apples, a bird's nest, two birds' eggs,and a fluttering half-fledged bird fell from it. A wave of delightand astonishment ran along the benches, a blank look of hopelessbewilderment settled upon the boy's face, and the gravity of thesituation disappeared forever in the irrepressible burst of laughter,in which even his brother rebels joined. The smallest child who had beenhalf-frightened, half-fascinated by the bold, bad, heroic attitude ofthe mutineer, was quick to see the ridiculousness of that figure crownedwith cheap schoolboy plunder. The eloquent protest of his wrongs waslost in the ludicrous appearance of the protester. Even Mrs. Martin feltthat nothing she could say at that moment could lift the rebellion intoseriousness again. But Twing was evidently not satisfied.

  "Beg Mrs. Martin's pardon, and say you were foolin' with the boys," hesaid in a low voice.

  The discomfited rebel hesitated.

  "Say it, or I'll SHOW WHAT YOU'VE GOT IN YOUR POCKETS!" said Twing in aterribly significant aside.

  The boy mumbled an apology to Mrs. Martin, scrambled in a blank,hopeless way to his seat, and the brief rebellion ignominiously ended.But two things struck Mrs. Martin as peculiar. She overheard the culpritsay, with bated breath and evident sincerity, to his comrades: "Hadn'tnothing in my hat, anyway!" and one of the infant class was heard tocomplain, in a deeply-injured way, that the bird's nest was HIS, and hadbeen "stoled" from his desk. And there still remained the fact for whichTwing's undoubted fascination over the children had somewhat preparedher--that at recess the malcontents--one and all--seemed to haveforgiven the man who had overcome them, and gathered round him withunmistakable interest. All this, however, did not blind her to theserious intent of the rebellion, or of Twing's unaccountable assumptionof her prerogative. While he was still romping with the children shecalled him in.

  "I must remind you," she said, with a slight nervous asperity, "thatthis outrageous co
nduct of Tom Hardee was evidently deliberated andprepared by the others, and cannot end in this way."

  He looked at her with a face so exasperatingly expressionless thatshe could have slapped it as if it had belonged to one of the olderscholars, and said,--"But it HAS ended. It's a dead frost."

  "I don't know what you mean; and I must remind you also that in thisschool we neither teach nor learn slang."

  His immobile face changed for an instant to a look of such decidedadmiration that she felt her color rise; but he wiped his expressionaway with his hand as if it had been some artificial make-up, and saidawkwardly, but earnestly:--

  "Excuse me--won't you? But, look here, Mrs. Martin, I found out earlythis morning, when I was squaring myself with the other children, thatthere was this row hangin' on--in fact, that there was a sort of ideathat Pike County wasn't having a fair show--excuse me--in the running ofthe school, and that Peaseley and Barstow were a little too much on inevery scene. In fact, you see, it was just what Tom said."

  "This is insufferable," said Mrs. Martin, her eyes growing darker asher cheeks grew red. "They shall go home to their parents, and tell themfrom me"--

  "That they're all mistaken--excuse me--but that's just what THEY'REGOIN' TO DO. I tell you, Mrs. Martin, their little game's busted--I begpardon--but it's all over. You'll have no more trouble with them."

  "And you think that just because you found Tom had something in his hat,and exposed him?" said Mrs. Martin scornfully.

  "Tom HADN'T anything in his hat," said Twing, wiping his mouth slowly.

  "Nothing?" repeated Mrs. Martin.

  "No."

  "But I SAW you take the things out."

  "That was only a TRICK! He had nothing except what I had up my sleeve,and forced on him. He knew it, and that frightened him, and made himlook like a fool, and so bursted up his conspiracy. There's nothin'boys are more afraid of than ridicule, or the man or boy that make 'emridiculous."

  "I won't ask you if you call this FAIR to the boy, Mr. Twing?" said Mrs.Martin hotly; "but is this your idea of discipline?"

  "I call it fair, because Tom knew it was some kind of a trick, andwasn't deceived. I call it discipline if it made him do what was rightafterwards, and makes him afraid or unwilling to do anything to offendme or you again. He likes me none the worse for giving him a chance ofbeing laughed out of a thing instead of being DRIVEN out of it. And," headded, with awkward earnestness, "if you'll just leave all this toME, and only consider me here to take this sort of work which ain'ta lady's--off your hands, we'll just strike our own line between thePeaseleys and Pike County--and run this school in spite of both."

  A little mollified, a good deal puzzled, and perhaps more influenced bythe man's manner than she had imagined, Mrs. Martin said nothing, butlet the day pass without dismissing the offenders. And on returning homethat evening she was considerably surprised to receive her landlady'sextravagant congratulations on the advent of her new assistant. "Andthey do say, Mrs. Martin," continued that lady enthusiastically, "thatyour just setting your foot down square on that Peaseley and thatBarstow, BOTH OF 'EM--and choosing your own assistant yourself--a plainyoung fellow with no frills and fancies, but one that you could setabout making all the changes you like, was just the biggest thing youever did for Pine Clearing."

  "And--they--consider him quite--competent?" said Mrs. Martin, with timidcolor and hesitating audacity.

  "Competent! You ask my Johnny."

  Nevertheless, Mrs. Martin was somewhat formally early at the schoolhousethe next morning. "Perhaps," she said, with an odd mixture of dignityand timidity, "we'd better, before school commences, go over the lessonsfor the day."

  "I HAVE," he said quickly. "I told you ONE rehearsal was enough for me."

  "You mean you have looked over them?"

  "Got 'em by heart. Letter perfect. Want to hear me? Listen."

  She did. He had actually committed to memory, and without a lapse, theentire text of rules, questions, answers, and examples of the lessonsfor the day.

  CHAPTER IV.

  Before a month had passed, Mr. Twing's success was secure andestablished. So were a few of the changes he had quietly instituted.The devotional singing and Scripture reading which had excited thediscontent of the Pike County children and their parents was notdiscontinued, but half an hour before recess was given up to somesecular choruses, patriotic or topical, in which the little ones underTwing's really wonderful practical tuition exhibited such quick andpleasing proficiency, that a certain negro minstrel camp-meetingsong attained sufficient popularity to be lifted by general accord topromotion to the devotional exercises, where it eventually ousted theobjectionable "Hebrew children" on the question of melody alone. Grammarwas still taught at Pine Clearing School in spite of the Hardees andMackinnons, but Twing had managed to import into the cognate exercisesof recitation a wonderful degree of enthusiasm and excellence.Dialectical Pike County, that had refused to recognize the governingpowers of the nominative case, nevertheless came out strong in classicalelocution, and Tom Hardee, who had delivered his ungrammatical proteston behalf of Pike County, was no less strong, if more elegant, in hisimpeachment of Warren Hastings as Edmund Burke, with the equal sanctionof his parents. The trustees, Sperry and Jackson, had marveled, butwere glad enough to accept the popular verdict--only Mr. Peaseley stillretained an attitude of martyr-like forbearance and fatigued tolerationtowards the new assistant and his changes. As to Mrs. Martin, she seemedto accept the work of Mr. Twing after his own definition of it--as of amasculine quality ill-suited to a lady's tastes and inclinations; but itwas noticeable that while she had at first repelled any criticism of himwhatever, she had lately been given to explaining his position to herfriends, and had spoken of him with somewhat labored and ostentatiouspatronage. Yet when they were alone together she frankly found him veryamusing, and his presumption and vulgarity so clearly unintentional thatit no longer offended her. They were good friends without having anyconfidences beyond the duties of the school; she had asked no furtherexplanation of the fact that he had been selected by Mr. Barstowwithout reference to any special antecedent training. What his actualantecedents were she had never cared to know, nor he apparently toreveal; that he had been engaged in some other occupations of superioror inferior quality would not have been remarkable in a community wherethe principal lawyer had been a soldier, and the miller a doctor. Thefact that he admired her was plain enough to HER; that it pleased her,but carried with it no ulterior thought or responsibility, might havebeen equally clear to others. Perhaps it was so to HIM.

  Howbeit, this easy mutual intercourse was one day interrupted by whatseemed a trifling incident. The piano, which Mr. Barstow had promised,duly made its appearance in the schoolhouse, to the delight of thescholars and the gentle satisfaction of Mrs. Martin, who, in addition tothe rudimentary musical instruction of the younger girls, occasionallyplayed upon it herself in a prim, refined, and conscientious fashion.To this, when she was alone after school hours, she sometimes added afaint, colorless voice of limited range and gentlewomanly expression. Itwas on one of these occasions that Twing, becoming an accidental auditorof this chaste, sad piping, was not only permitted to remain to hear theend of a love song of strictly guarded passion in the subjunctivemood, but at the close was invited to try his hand--a quick, if not acultivated one--at the instrument. He did so. Like her, he added hisvoice. Like hers, it was a love song. But there the similitude ended.Negro in dialect, illiterate in construction, idiotic in passion, andpresumably addressed to the "Rose of Alabama," in the very extravaganceof its childish infatuation it might have been a mockery of theschoolmistress's song but for one tremendous fact! In unrestrainedfeeling, pathetic yearning, and exquisite tenderness of expression, itwas unmistakably and appallingly personal and sincere. It was true thelips spoken of were "lubly," the eyes alluded to were like "lightenin'bugs," but from the voice and gestures of the singer Mrs. Martinconfusedly felt that they were intended for HERS, and even the refrainthat "she dressed so ne
at and looked so sweet" was glaringly allusiveto her own modish mourning. Alternately flushing and paling, with ahysteric smile hovering round her small reserved mouth, the unfortunategentlewoman was fain to turn to the window to keep her countenance untilit was concluded. She did not ask him to repeat it, nor did she againsubject herself to this palpable serenade, but a few days afterwards, asshe was idly striking the keys in the interval of a music lesson, oneof her little pupils broke out, "Why, Mrs. Martin, if yo ain't a pickin'out that pow'ful pretty tune that Mr. Twing sings!"

  Nevertheless, when Twing, a week or two later, suggested that he mightsing the same song as a solo at a certain performance to be given by theschool children in aid of a local charity, she drily intimated that itwas hardly of a character to suit the entertainment. "But," she added,more gently, "you recite so well; why not give a recitation?"

  He looked at her with questioning and troubled eyes,--the one expressionhe seemed to have lately acquired. "But that would be IN PUBLIC!There'll be a lot of people there," he said doubtfully.

  A little amused at this first apparent sign of a want of confidence inhimself, she said, with a reassuring smile, "So much the better,--you doit really too well to have it thrown away entirely on children."

  "Do YOU wish it?" he said suddenly.

  Somewhat confused, but more irritated by his abruptness, she replied,"Why not?" But when the day came, and before a crowded audience, inwhich there was a fair sprinkling of strangers, she regretted her rashsuggestion. For when the pupils had gone through certain calisthenicexercises--admirably taught and arranged by him--and "spoken theirpieces," he arose, and, fixing his eyes on her, began Othello's defensebefore the Duke and Council. Here, as on the previous occasion, she feltherself personally alluded to in his account of his wooing.Desdemona, for some occult reason, vicariously appeared for her in theunwarrantable picture of his passion, and to this was added the absurdconsciousness which she could not put aside that the audience, followingwith enthusiasm his really strong declamation, was also following hissuggestion and adopting it. Yet she was also conscious, and, as shethought, as inconsistently, of being pleased and even proud of hissuccess. At the conclusion the applause was general, and a voice addedwith husky admiration and familiarity:--

  "Brayvo, Johnny Walker!"

  Twing's face became suddenly white as a Pierrot mask. There was a deadsilence, in which the voice continued, "Give us 'Sugar in the Gourd,'Johnny."

  A few hisses, and cries of "Hush!" "Put him out!" followed. Mrs. Martinraised her eyes quickly to where her assistant had stood bowing histhanks a moment before. He was gone!

  More concerned than she cared to confess, vaguely fearful that she wasin some way connected with his abrupt withdrawal, and perhaps a littleremorseful that she had allowed her personal feelings to interfere withher frank recognition of his triumph, she turned back to the schoolroom,after the little performers and their audience had departed, in the hopethat he might return. It was getting late, the nearly level rays of thesun were lying on the empty benches at the lower end of the room, butthe desk where she sat with its lid raised was in deep shadow.Suddenly she heard his voice in a rear hall, but it was accompanied byanother's,--the same voice which had interrupted the applause. Beforeshe could either withdraw, or make herself known, the two men hadentered the room, and were passing slowly through it. She understood atonce that Twing had slipped out into a janitor's room in the rear,where he had evidently forced an interview and explanation from hisinterrupter, and now had been waiting for the audience to dispersebefore emerging by the front door. They had evidently overlooked her inthe shadow.

  "But," said the stranger, as if following an aggrieved line of apology,"if Barstow knew who you were, and what you'd done, and still thoughtyou good enough to rastle round here and square up them Pike Countyfellers and them kids--what in thunder do you care if the others DO findyou out, as long as Barstow sticks to you?"

  "I've told you why, Dick," returned Twing gloomily.

  "Oh, the schoolma'am!"

  "Yes, she's a saint, an angel. More than that--she's a lady, Dick,to the tip of her fingers, who knows nothing of the world outside aparson's study. She took me on trust--without a word--when the trusteeshung back and stared. She's never asked me about myself, and now whenshe knows who and what I have been--she'll loathe me!"

  "But look here, Jim," said the stranger anxiously. "I'll say it's all alie. I'll come here and apologize to you afore HER, and say I took youfor somebody else. I'll"--

  "It's too late," said Twing moodily.

  "And what'll you do?"

  "Leave here."

  They had reached the door together. To Mrs. Martin's terror, as thestranger passed out, Twing, instead of following him as she expected,said "Good-night," and gloomily re-entered the schoolroom. Here hepaused a moment, and then throwing himself on one of the benches,dropped his head upon a desk with his face buried in his hands--like avery schoolboy.

  What passed through Mrs. Martin's mind I know not. For a moment she saterect and rigid at her desk. Then she slipped quietly down, and, softlyas one of the last shadows cast by the dying sun, glided across thefloor to where he sat.

  "Mrs. Martin," he said, starting to his feet.

  "I have heard all," she said faintly. "I couldn't help it. I was herewhen you came in. But I want to tell you that I am content to know youonly as you seem to be,--as I have always found you here,--strong andloyal to a duty laid upon you by those who had a full knowledge of allyou had been."

  "Did you? Do you know what I have been?"

  Mrs. Martin looked frightened, trembled a moment, and, recoveringherself with an effort, said gently, "I know nothing of your past."

  "Nothing?" he repeated, with a mirthless attempt at laughter, and aquick breath. "Not that I've been a--a--mountebank, a variety actor--aclown, you know, for the amusement of the lowest, at twenty-five cents aticket. That I'm 'Johnny Walker,' the song and dance man--the all-roundman--selected by Mr. Barstow to teach these boors a lesson as to whatthey wanted!"

  She looked at him a moment--timidly, yet thoughtfully. "Then you are anactor--a person who simulates what he does not feel?"

  "Yes."

  "And all the time you have been here you have been acting theschoolmaster--playing a part--for--for Mr. Barstow?"

  "Yes."

  "Always?"

  "Yes."

  The color came softly to her face again, and her voice was very low."And when you sang to me that day, and when you looked at me--asyou did--an hour or two ago--while you were entertaining--youwere--only--acting?"

  Mr. Twing's answer was not known, but it must have been a full andcomplete one, for it was quite dark when he left the schoolroom--NOT forthe last time--with its mistress on his arm.