The Brown Mouse

  CHAPTER VIII

  AND THE OLD BOTTLES

  The day passed. Four o'clock came. In order that all might reach home forsupper, there was no staying, except that Newt Bronson and Raymond Simmsremained to sweep and dust the schoolroom, and prepare kindling for thenext morning's fire--a work they had taken upon themselves, so as toenable the teacher to put on the blackboards such outlines for themorrow's class work as might be required. Jim was writing on the board alist of words constituting a spelling exercise. They were not from thetext-book, but grew naturally out of the study of the seedwheat--"cockle," "morning-glory," "convolvulus," "viable," "viability,""sprouting," "iron-weed" and the like. A tap was heard at the door, andRaymond Simms opened it.

  In filed three women--and Jim Irwin knew as he looked at them that he wasgreeting a deputation, and felt that it meant a struggle. For they werethe wives of the members of the school board. He placed for them the threeavailable chairs, and in the absence of any for himself remained standingbefore them, a gaunt shabby-looking revolutionist at the bar of settledusage and fixed public opinion.

  Mrs. Haakon Peterson was a tall blonde woman who, when she spoke betrayedher Scandinavian origin by the northern burr to her "r's," and a slightdifficulty with her "j's," her "y's" and long "a's." She was slow-spokenand dignified, and Jim felt an instinctive respect for her personality.Mrs. Bronson was a good motherly woman, noted for her housekeeping, andfor her church activities. She looked oftener at her son, and his friendRaymond than at the schoolmaster. Mrs. Bonner was the most voluble of thethree, and was the only one who shook hands with Jim; but in spite of herrather offhand manner, Jim sensed in the little, black-eyed Irishwoman thereal commander of the expedition against him--for such he knew it to be.

  "You may think it strange of us coming after hours," said she, "but wewanted to speak to you, teacher, without the children here."

  "I wish more of the parents would call," said Jim. "At any hour of theday."

  "Or night either, I dare say," suggested Mrs. Bonner. "I hear you've thescholars here at all hours, Jim."

  Jim smiled his slow patient smile.

  "We do break the union rules, I guess, Mrs. Bonner," said he; "there seemsto be more to do than we can get done during school hours."

  "What right have ye," struck in Mrs. Bonner, "to be burning the district'sfuel, and wearing out the school's property out of hours like that--notthat it's anny of my business," she interposed, hastily, as if she hadbeen diverted from her chosen point of attack. "I just thought of it,that's all. What we came for, Mr. Irwin, is to object to the way theteachin's being done--corn and wheat, and hogs and the like, instead ofthe learnin' schools was made to teach."

  "Schools were made to prepare children for life, weren't they, Mrs.Bonner?"

  "To be sure," went on Mrs. Bonner, "I can see an' the whole district cansee that it's easier for a man that's been a farm-hand to teach farm-handknowledge, than the learnin' schools was set up to teach; but if so be hehasn't the book education to do the right thing, we think he should getout and give a real teacher a chance."

  "What am I neglecting?" asked Jim mildly.

  Mrs. Bonner seemed unprepared for the question, and sat for an instantmute. Mrs. Peterson interposed her attack while Mrs. Bonner might berecovering her wind.

  "We people that have had a hard time," she said in a precise way whichseemed to show that she knew exactly what she wanted, "want to give ourboys and girls a chance to live easier lives than we lived. We don't wantour children taught about nothing but work. We want higher things."

  "Mrs. Peterson," said Jim earnestly, "we must have first things first.Making a living is the first thing--and the highest."

  "Haakon and I will look after making a living for our family," said she."We want our children to learn nice things, and go to high school, andafter a while to the Juniwersity."

  "And I," declared Jim, "will send out from this school, if you will letme, pupils better prepared for higher schools than have ever gone fromit--because they will be trained to think in terms of action. They will goknowing that thoughts must always be linked with things. Aren't yourchildren happy in school, Mrs. Peterson?"

  "I don't send them to school to be happy, Yim," replied Mrs. Peterson,calling him by the name most familiarly known to all of them; "I send themto learn to be higher people than their father and mother. That's whatAmerica means!"

  "They'll be higher people--higher than their parents--higher than theirteacher--they'll be efficient farmers, and efficient farmers' wives.They'll be happy, because they will know how to use more brains in farmingthan any lawyer or doctor or merchant can possibly use in his business.I'm educating them to find an outlet for genius in farming!"

  "It's a fine thing," said Mrs. Bonner, coming to the aid of her fellowsoldiers, "to work hard for a lifetime, an' raise nothing but a family offarmers! A fine thing!"

  "They will be farmers anyhow," cried Jim, "in spite of yourefforts--ninety out of every hundred of them! And of the other ten, ninewill be wage-earners in the cities, and wish to God they were back on thefarm; and the hundredth one will succeed in the city. Shall we educate theninety-and-nine to fail, that the hundredth, instead of enriching therural life with his talents, may steal them away to make the citystronger? It is already too strong for us farmers. Shall we drive our bestaway to make it stronger?"

  The guns of Mrs. Bonner and Mrs. Peterson were silenced for a moment, andMrs. Bronson, after gazing about at the typewriter, the hectograph, theexhibits of weed seeds, the Babcock milk tester, and the otherunscholastic equipment, pointed to the list of words, and the arithmeticproblems on the board.

  "Do you get them words from the speller?" she asked.

  "No," said he, "we got them from a lesson on seed wheat."

  "Did them examples come out of an arithmetic book?" cross-examined she.

  "No," said Jim, "we used problems we made ourselves. We were figuringprofits and losses on your cows, Mrs. Bronson!"

  "Ezra Bronson," said Mrs. Bronson loftily, "don't need any help in tellingwhat's a good cow. He was farming before you was born!"

  "Like fun, he don't need help! He's going to dry old Cherry off and fattenher for beef; and he can make more money on the cream by beefing aboutthree more of 'em. The Babcock test shows they're just boarding on uswithout paying their board!"

  The delegation of matrons ruffled like a group of startled hens at thisinterposition, which was Newton Bronson's effective seizing of theopportunity to issue a progress bulletin in the research work on theBronson dairy herd.

  "Newton!" said his mother, "don't interrupt me when I'm talking to theteacher!"

  "Well, then," said Newton, "don't tell the teacher that pa knew which cowswere good and which were poor. If any one in this district wants to knowabout their cows they'll have to come to this shop. And I can tell youthat it'll pay 'em to come too, if they're going to make anything sellingcream. Wait until we get out our reports on the herds, ma!"

  The women were rather stampeded by this onslaught of the irregulartroops--especially Mrs. Bronson. She was placed in the position of a womantaking a man's wisdom from her ne'er-do-well son for the first time in herlife. Like any other mother in this position, she felt a flutter ofpride--but it was strongly mingled with a motherly desire to spank him.The deputation rose, with a unanimous feeling that they had been scoredupon.

  "Cows!" scoffed Mrs. Peterson. "If we leave you in this yob, Mr. Irwin,our children will know nothing but cows and hens and soils and grains--andwhere will the culture come in? How will our boys and girls appear when weget fixed so we can move to town? We won't have no culture at all, Yim!"

  "Culture!" exclaimed Jim. "Why--why, after ten years of the sort of schoolI would give you if I were a better teacher, and could have my way, thepeople of the cities would be begging to have their children admitted sothat they might obtain real culture--culture fitting them for life in thetwentieth century--"

  "Don't bother to get ready for the city children, Jim,"
said Mrs. Bonnersneeringly, "you won't be teaching the Woodruff school that long."

  All this time, the dark-faced Cracker had been glooming from a corner,earnestly seeking to fathom the wrongness he sensed in the gathering. Nowhe came forward.

  "I reckon I may be making a mistake to say anything," said he, "f'r we-allis strangers hyeh, an' we're pore; but I must speak out for Mr. Jim--Imust! Don't turn him out, folks, f'r he's done mo' f'r us than eveh anyone done in the world!"

  "What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Peterson.

  "I mean," said Raymond, "that when Mr. Jim began talking school to us, wewas a pore no-'count lot without any learnin', with nothin' to talk aboutexcept our wrongs, an' our enemies, and the meanness of the Iowa folks.You see we didn't understand you-all. An' now, we have hope. We done gothope from this school. We're goin' to make good in the world. We'regetting education. We're all learnin' to use books. My little sister willbe as good as anybody, if you'll just let Mr. Jim alone in this school--asgood as any one. An' I'll he'p pap get a farm, and we'll work and think atthe same time, an' be happy!"